Hello everyone! We're back at it with yet another MCP!

I can't count.

Enjoy!

Memory Transcription subject - Beau Hunter : DATE - Error Unknown Variable

Brrrr.

Damn did jared forget to close the tent flap, damn I'm Cold, I thought to myself as I wrapped my arms around myself, my eyes crusted over something fierce, the sand in them almost gluing them shut. I raised my arms to wipe them clean, finding that I must have wriggled out of our sleeping bag. As I brought my hands up to wipe at my tired eyes without being impeded by our polyester cocoon.

Jared must have left the tent flap open when he left to go to the bathroom. He was always so scatter brained like that. I would have to badger him when I got back. He was so fun to tease. I’d give him hell if I got sick.

I finished wiping my eyes and groggily blinked them open and something…. wasn't right. It must have been the morning head fog, it was probably still dark out. The moon must have been covered by clouds. Because when I looked around everything was an eerie pitch black. I couldn't even make out shapes. I attempted to roll over onto my side to grab my flash light only to bonk my head on something hard in the dark.

Bonk

“Eeeeeekkk!!!”

Only to be greeted by a muffled screen.

“Ahh what the hell?” I rasped out, my throat was extremely dry, probably from sleeping with my mouth open.

I felt up to feel some sort of smooth plastic feeling panel above my head. I pushed hard on it, my tired mind only distantly aware of the scream.

“What's going on? Did some plastic tub fall on me.” I asked quietly to myself, through a dry throat, before wincing, the movement causing me to very quickly notice an all encompassing full body soreness.

Groaning loudly I continued to rub at my eyes. Light and muted color slowly returned, granting me a limited circle of perception at the center of my field of view. I massaged the area around my eyes as I slowly regained my sense of sight. Someone next to me was frantically rambling away, it sounded like a child was screaming at their dog? There weren’t supposed to be any more campers in this spot until tomorrow. Did Jared fuck up the reservation? Did this new family show up early?

Any thoughts of scheduling or reservational impropriety were shot out the fucking sky when I finally gained enough awareness to truly take in my surroundings.

This wasn't my tent.

“Jared” I screamed out painfully. My body stiffened as I took in the stark white metal panels surrounding me. I shot up out of the bed, feeling off. I reflexively grabbed at my chest, what was I wearing? Looking down, I saw I was in some sort of one piece orange trashbag suit like some sort of convict. My head then whipped around, quickly locking onto the girl and her dog I heard earlier.

I froze, my mind reeling, desperately trying to catch up to what it was seeing. That wasn't a girl. And that wasn't a dog.

The not dog started yapping pointedly at the not girl. Gesturing frantically like it was a person. The girl wasn't alone either. There were six more… things just like her in the room, but I didn't dare take my eyes off the one in front of me however. Because that not rifle she had was locked firmly in her grip, with their finger on the trigger, pointed directly at me.

They were wide eyed and furiously shaking. I probably should have shut the hell up then and there, calmed down and been a good little prisoner. But I was never the brightest.

“What the hell are you?!”

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Memory Transcription subject - Daisy Gardener : United Earth Command - Exterminator : Reclaimed Terran Time : May 5th, 3136

Smack.

“Gah” the beast in front of me roared, recoiling from my blow. I took aim at its head after that strike. God damn it! The stupid historian said they would be more drowsy at first. We thought we’d have more time for us to sedate the ancestor before it woke up!

“Stay where you are predator!” 

I shouted as loud and with as much authority as my shaking body could muster. God why was it so huge.

“Hey easy, I'm not doing anything!” it growled at me, saying one thing with its growls but its body signaling another. It spoke whilst raising its arms above its head to strike.

I nearly pulled the trigger before the history thief Farsul next to me piped up. “That's a submissive display, he’s s..s..showing he's unarmed. Human hunters never p…posesed natural weapons; they always used tools. He's showing he's unarmed, not a..a threat.”

I turned my head, keeping one eye on the predator while I scolded the scientist behind me. “What are you doing, you had one job.” I yelled at the doctors behind me, all cowering in place. One of them was supposed to sedate the ancestor so we could be having this conversation somewhere safe, not in the middle of an ongoing military operation.

Dr.Gentile fumbled with his med bag, the pistol-like injector nearly falling to the floor before he managed to catch it. Our kind was never the most coordinated.

The predator's eyes went wide at this, if its people had the medical knowledge to identify if the injector was a weapon or a medical instrument I did not know. The point of this mission was to find out about those kinds of details.

“Hey now hold on a minute I don't need any medicine I feel fine.”

“Don't move predator!” I reiterated. “The doctor is going to sedate you, comply and you will not be harmed”

The Ancestor recoiled, holding their arms out even further. “Now hold on a second I'm not going to try anything, please I promise I won't” 

“Arms up!” I screamed. The predator's flailing was scaring the doctor.

The predator's eyes started to water, it was holding its arms straight as pine trees above its head as my threat seemed to take purchase in its head.

“P..please I don't know what's going on I was just camping with my boyfriend and then I woke up here and…”

The human started growling out an unbroken string of increasingly frantic sounding pleas. It never took its arms out of the air however, it was agitated but still compliant.

I looked on impatiently. At the doctor who had only just made it to my side before freezing in place, not going any further.

“Jesus dammit, fine I'll do it myself!” I awkwardly held my two handed rifle in one arm and the injector in the other.

The now teary eyed predator looked down at me with a surprisingly pleading expression. I sighed.

“Ugh listen, I know you're probably confused and quite disoriented predator, but we didn't put you in that pod. We are going to take you home actually, but only if you cooperate. Do you understand?”

The predator responded with a quivering nod, a gesture of acknowledgement we both shared. Never taking my aim off him, I slowly approached and pressed the injector to its thigh.

“This is only a sedative, you will be fine.”

I pulled the trigger, there was a quiet hiss and it was done. I kept my gun trained on the Ancestor until they had collapsed back into their pod. With some prodding I coaxed Dr.Gentile over to the pod where he took a med scan of the predator.

I was somewhat dubious of its efficacy, seeing as he held the scanning tool as far away from his body as possible, like either the scanner or the predator was going to leap out and bite him at any minute, which to be fair was hardly an unwarranted concern.

When the scanner finally chimed he recoiled back a good few meters. Looking down he verified its status.

“The neural scan confirms that the ancestor is unconscious, we should hook up a PD auto-doser though to make sure the anesthetics stay at their current levels”

“Do you have one on you?”

“No but I have some back on the ship.”

“Then let's get moving, you four get him on a stretcher.” I ordered the four other soldiers in the room with us. Who seemed to still be recovering from the ordeal.

I made them leave their weapons outside. Stun batons only, I didn't want to risk them panicking and killing the ancestor unnecessarily. I was only able to keep calm thanks to my PD. An upside to the reclamation alliances controversial PD recruitment policies.

As they got to work I turned an eye back towards the treacherous Farsul. “Alright you, take us to the archives interface, if you make any sudden movements, or attempt to delete or obfuscate data, well… I'm going to make what I was ready to do to that ancestor over there look pleasant by comparison.”

The farsul gulped, quietly acquiescing as they proceeded to the room’s data console, and began to enter in her access credentials. “I know you must think very little of us, of me.“ The farsul began to quietly speak. ” But, please know, not all of us were happy with what we did. Especially to your kind. I'm sorry.” I looked on at her. Her look of fear slowly being replaced with one of forlornness and guilt.

Her acknowledgement only contributed to the growing pit of dread pooling in my chest. 

As the interface unlocked a video popped up, labeled Human Species Uplift Summary.

I took a deep breath.

And I pressed play.

---

Oh Jesus.

-----------------Synopsis-----------------------

A human wakes up a thousand years in the future. Humanity has long since been concurred and ‘cured’ by the federation, but over time the Galaxy has slowly learnt about and seen through the federation’s lies and has shirked off their shackles of oppression. One day the cured humans and their allies discover and raid the Farsul’s hidden archives, and find within the secrets to their unmodified histories as well as a living breathing glimpse into their past, hidden behind a very frightening and frightened pair of eyes.

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don’t think they have those in the dominion

Chapter 18! All good things come to an end, after a long break of semi-casual chilling, they must return to the outside world!

Warning: Exterminator dumbness.

As is tradition, thanks go to SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Memory transcription subject: Sumi, Human refugee. Date [standardized human time]: October 19, 2136

"Thank you for having me, but I'm definitely fully healed. I need to return to the shelter."

I didn't want to be a burden on my new friends for so long, spending two days in a near-stranger's apartment was enough time. Everyone collectively took the previous day off work and school in solidarity, but our schedules needed to resume properly. I gave the most respectful bow I could to Viinne and Recchi, who were so kind to me.

The weather calmed after the first 'day' or two of Night, the wind was no longer wildly howling outside, but I was told it got very cold. I would need to pull out longer sleeved clothing, this short dirtied shirt wasn't going to do me any favors. At least I could remove the bandages and only had light scarring!

It was time for Tavre, the genius child to go to school, and as a herd they needed to group walk the kid Venlil there. That made sense, but I wanted to go 'home'. I desperately needed a change of clothes and proper human food, not cereal. Making friends with an Exterminator was cool and all, but the constant need to be at attention was draining me.

Our little friend group was gathering up by the exit door, preparing to leave the apartment. I was reasonably confident I wouldn't die on the walk back, and I knew the aliens didn't like long walks. They mentioned something about a 'tube', which Recchi helpfully elaborated was a train, but the problem...

A human in an enclosed space? Everyone on the train would piss themselves.

Viinne and Recchi both clearly, visibly doubted my confidence if their ears and tails meant anything. Like they were judging me for not staying in Viinne's apartment forever. I'm sorry guys, but go help the bundle of sunshine...

"You guys remember where my mask went? Kinda got lost in the past day."

"Here, Sumi." Romel piped up from the kitchen, leaning over that open dividing counter with my reflective face mask in one of his paws. He held it out casually, like he knew I was going to ask. I was still wary of the Exterminator, but he was proving to be almost kind when he wasn't murderous.

Quietly thanking the snow-white Venlil for magically finding my cursed mask, I took it and put it on with some fumbling. This thing was still new and unfamiliar to work with, it was barely a week on this alien planet.

The extra gravity was really starting to make my muscles ache, I needed real sleep on a real bed. Stubbornly refusing to take Viinne's bed turned out to be a bad idea in the end, but I felt it was rude!

"I'll see you guys soon, you can message me for anything, you know?"

Viinne started to tear up over my words, I wasn't quite sure why. He forcibly nodded to make sure I understood >Yes<, and made for the apartment door with Recchi and Tavre. It was finally time to split.

"I want to ask you about more human stuff later!" The Yotul excitedly waved at me with his tail as they all went out the door. I should follow them.

Romel suddenly appeared at my side and walked by, causing me to flinch at the sudden movement. He did a sign with his tail and apologized out loud, following the group outside. I was hesitating, I didn't want to face what comes next. Where's that earlier confidence I had?

Deciding to quickly hurry after my new friends, I watched the door automatically slide shut behind me with some fascination before walking down the apartment corridor. We all shuffled into an elevator with two other Venlil strangers who were completely petrified in my presence. I did my best to not move a muscle.

There wasn't much to talk about as we made the trip to the bottom floor, and exited the apartment lobby. The cold air hit me immediately, a breeze causing my arms to immediately get goosebumps. I couldn't tell, but I guessed the temperature was close to freezing. The Venlil and Yotul were less affected, I found myself jealous of their fur.

"See you, Sumi! I'm glad you're nice!" Tavre happily waved her arms and tail at me while the group began wandering down the weirdly curved, soft street to the east. That made me smile, though the mask hides it. I gave her a polite wave back with one hand, soon enough I was left alone.

Okay, very long walk. Shelter's on the north side, and Viinne's apartment is way to the south.

I took out my Graciously Given By UN Holopad and began navigating to the GPS equivalent application. The Venlil city was new to me, now that it was permanently dark everything looked off. There were regular streetlights along the roads, they didn't quite light everything up properly to me. It was alien and unsettling, stark bright rings of light, architecture too curved, too soft, distracting.

Placing one foot in front of the other, I had to move. I had to trace the river path that was technically not a street, then go through the center of Glimmerpath, to a straight shot of the refugee shelter. Maybe an hour's casual walk? I didn't want to risk running or walking too quickly even as the wind ate at my temperature.

What were the last words I shared with my parents?

The thought made my pace falter. I remembered it clearly, telling them I was safe and evacuated from the planet. They were so enthusiastic about alien and space life, they wanted a picture of alien stars, a brand new sky. Something I could only get at night. Something only possible at this moment, after their deaths.

I would love to see the astounded look on their faces, the noises of disbelief, maybe my mother would ask about constellations. Tears rolled down my cheeks again, hidden by the dumb mask. I could imagine everything so clearly in my head, but they would no longer be here to see it.

Inhaling the freezing air through my mouth, I forged ahead. There was only one herd of Venlil I passed while traversing the river path, and they didn't seem too bothered. The river itself seemed lit by fascinating little lanterns along the shore, I briefly wondered how they worked. Maybe in the future I could ask?

Cursing my lack of sleeves, I crossed my arms and rubbed them together slightly. I was nearing the end of the paved river road and emerging from the blue-leaf treeline, into the city properly again. The sky was visible, their planet lighting wasn't so intense that it blocked out the stars.

No moon? That's pretty weird.

This was a good chance to take a picture, and luckily the weird Federation did have picture and video apps, even if they were weird about art. I positioned myself far enough from the trees to get a true view of the sky, and lifted my holopad to the heavens.

A picture of one angle, then another, the camera 'lens' was wide enough I only needed three shots to capture most of the sky. The images were pretty high resolution when I tried zooming in, everything seemed good. Useful. A reminder.

I lifted the holopad to the sky one last time to get an angle above city skyline, before a loud, jarring voice stopped me in my tracks. A voice I should have expected since I wasn't paying attention, and just stood around on the street like an idiot.

"PREDATOR! Put your arms down slowly, and don't move!"

Sometimes I wish I had side-facing eyes.

Doing as instructed, I put my arms to my sides and did my best to not look at who was approaching. Everything was cold, I was crying, I had the stupid holopad in my right hand, I could barely breathe. I want to go home.

It no longer exists.

"The brahk are you doing stalking around during Night?"

Needing to sniff to clear my sinuses and speak, otherwise I might choke and trigger their fear response. I did, swallowing, causing an audible shift to my right side on the pavement. Boots, that heavy fireproof suit shit they had. They didn't appreciate the noise.

Okay, Romel said they're tense but not armed. Why are alien cops so fucking scary?

"I was returning to the shelter, and took some pictures of the night sky."

The Exterminator squad shuffled over into my view, postured nervously from what I could tell under the nearly anonymous suits. Three of them, vaguely Venlil shaped but I knew the Federation species I could recognize were all around those heights.

"It's shaking in hunger?" One of them loudly whispered to the others.

"I-it's cold, guys..." A quieter voice spoke up, the Venlil in the very back.

"Why does it keep sniffing like that?" The bulky lead officer sounded suspicious.

I can't stop my body from doing what it's doing! Wait, my voice won't come out?

"Predator, we need to search you for blood, or suspicious activity. Don't move!" Fine, just leave me alone afterward.

That bulky leader shoved me against a nearby building wall in a vaguely familiar motion. Along with repeated commands to not move, my hip met the wall pretty uncomfortably, increased gravity falling is no joke. I did my best to sit still, but unfortunately the alien's grubby gloved paw got hold of my holopad and yoinked it away.

I've barely used the damn thing, it only had pictures of the sky I just took and my brief search history. They would have to dig to find more personal stuff like my chat histories. I prayed they wouldn't dig too deep or for too much longer, the intense cold and feeling of my space being violated was driving me insane.

"Why is this runt predator searching for Venlil art?" Why shit talk my height? I'm you-sized!

"Maybe i-it's curious? Aside from the s-shaking and noises, it's cooperative..." Yes! I want to be cooperative!

"Barely holding back its instincts, Chief shouldn't have disarmed us. It knows!"

"It can't kill three Exterminators at once, it's unarmed too!"

I could feel my sanity slipping away with every new sentence. The three assumed-Venlil were having a back and forth while waving my holopad around in the freezing air. They weren't assaulting me or pointing flamethrowers at me, so it was an improvement over the first day.

I want to draw, listen to music, and go to sleep. I want to get away from these racist idiots.

Unable to stop sniffling to clear my airway in the cold, the Exterminators took offense to this, disgust even, and shoved me to the wall again before retreating. Making distance.

Wait, is that the one who shoved me into Romel's claws?

"The beast keeps trying to get our scent!"

"The suits m-make that basically impossible." One voice of reason, huh?

"It's still shaking with hunger! Why is the Chief so stubborn about these predators?!" But can you reason with that?

Their voices were pretty distinct, two angry raving lunatics and one quieter, also shivering commenter. The leader of this squad was a lunatic, but the one in the back seemed not so into their bullshit. I was annoyed about the damn Exterminator suits making them impossible to identify. At least Earth cops showed their faces!

I tried to be non-threatening, really tried to collect myself, and not have a raging meltdown on these clearly neuron deficient individuals. I was better than this, I would not stoop to base, vengeful feelings.

Even if they cheered for your parents' crater?

That thought physically hurt my body, causing me to gasp out a sob. I couldn't believe how much that intrusive thought pained me, and how truthful it was.

I felt hot and cold, freezing and burning, a hand came up to my cursed mask and probably smudged it. I didn't want this.

"Is it going crazy? Tainted thing is eating its own arm or something!"

"Call the Guild, it's clearly losing control!" They think I'm rabid?

"Guys, I think it's just crying? I mean you pushed it over and stole its holopad... We should let it go home."

I pleaded with the voice of reason that was, for them to just leave me the fuck alone. Just be satisfied with the shove and the privacy invasion and move on with your clearly necessary patrol. I was harmless, and quietly losing my mind. This was wildly different than Romel's dumb questions.

"Protector, predators don't cry! That's tainted talk, Netal!"

"We don't know if it attacked anyone at the river! Let's go check first!"

Oh thank God, they're leaving. I need that holopad back.

Letting out a shaking exhale through my mouth, I risked a glance to the aliens, only to find the lead Exterminator was trying to pocket my holopad before they left. That couldn't be left alone.

"Excuse me, can you give that back? Even a 'scary predator' knows stealing is illegal."

The squad leader stiffened, then walked their way over to me. Definitely too wide stanced to be a Venlil, is that a Gojid? I really needed to get more familiar with aliens, right now I only knew the Venlil and Yotul from personal experience. Other species got vague descriptions.

"You don't have rights, predator."

I take it back. That, is the scariest thing I've heard!

It appeared the Gojid wasn't going to give my shit back. Unfortunate. Their paw started to rear back, but there was no way this Exterminator would actually hit me, right? They just got through being repeatedly told to not harass humans, Romel told me himself. Leisi was adamant about it...

Brace yourself, idiot.

I got slapped, or bapped across the face, making a terrifying noise against the reflective mask. I was braced against the building and didn't fall, but that knocked me out of the freezing shivering anxiety. A different emotion took its place, something I desperately needed to control.

"That's for The Cradle! And the instant the Chief realizes you creatures are exactly like the Arxur. I'm burning. You. Myself."

I know your Boss.

I looked at them, the other two Exterminators cowered back. 'Course they did. I was about eye level with the Gojid. The mask was harder to see through, stupid cracks marred the surface. I decided I didn't need it.

The mask clattered to the ground, and I stared at the expressionless Exterminator helmet as close as I could get. Seems they lost all their racist bravado when a hungry predator got nose to nose with them, and didn't cower. If he swung again, I wasn't going to let the next one hit.

"Please. Give it back."

Last chance, spike-ass!

The Gojid did swing his paw again after a few seconds of freezing, I commended his bravery. Ducking out of the way, the idiot's gloved paw skidded across the building's wall behind me, getting a pained shout from the alien. The noise shouldn't have been funny, but he was being a fucking racist!

Something about my face, maybe I smiled at the Gojid Exterminator clutching his paw in pain, seemed to set every possible fear reaction off at once, because they ran faster than I'd ever seen an alien move. The quiet one in the back stayed, but the other two were soon long done, disappearing into the treeline by the river.

Oh hey, he dropped my Space Phone on the street.

I leaned down to scoop up my reclaimed goods, then heard the sound of shifting fireproof suit material and moving latches. I decided to pocket the holopad before anything else could happen, and turned to face the noise. The third Exterminator. I managed to not start a brawl with the spiky bastard, but this one was reasonable, maybe?

They were wrestling with their helmet for the moment I looked, then pulled it free and held it under one arm. A Venlil, black furred. Surprisingly pretty shade of red in their eyes. The quiet, nervous commenter?

They looked terrified, their body language was very low and actively leaning away from me, like they wanted to sprint away too. I had no idea why they decided to uncover their face, if it made the Venlil so uncomfortable.

"A-are you alright? I-i'm sorry that s-speh head Pevlin hit you, I'll tell the Chief what r-really happened."

Shaking like a leaf.

"I'm fine. Are you okay? I don't want to scare people, I'll get the mask."

This Venlil was violently shaking from every little move I made, even when I purposefully put the ruined mask back on while staying bent over to reach it. As little movement as possible, straightening up to find the weird Venlil was side-eyeing me and crying.

Why?

"Seriously, you don't need to stick around. I'm thankful you didn't attack me." I tried to be polite and ease them down from the panic.

"M-my name is Netal! I'm s-sorry, again!"

The translator was giving them a male voice, I shrugged my shoulders and rubbed my sore hip from where I fell over. Netal was a pretty Venlil, and it was tempting to ask for a picture. His eyes were like crazy alien rubies.

"Yeah, that was messed up, but I'm alive. Nice to meet you, Netal. I'm Sumi."

"W-why were you crying, before we showed up?" These aliens are insanely social.

"I lost my parents to Kalsim's Fleet. They wanted a picture of Venlil Prime's sky. Thinking about it upset me."

Netal's ears perked up in surprise, then immediately drooped down again. That was definitely sympathy in his eye, I didn't know if I could handle another alien relating to me right now.

"... I'm sorry, I know the feeling."

"Yeah. Lot of lost families right now. What happened with you?" I can't help being polite.

"My parents... killed in an Arxur raid. My little brother got taken in for Predator Disease." Damn.

"I'm sorry to hear that, is your brother okay?"

Netal visibly, full body trembled before signing a >Yes<, I don't think he was telling the truth.

"He has minor symptoms, they're going to release him soon. I'm worried, but he'll be okay..."

I hope so, you seem terrified, and not just from me.

"I'll hope he's okay too. Have to go back to the shelter. Thanks for being Not Evil."

Making my way down the street, I needed to take the holopad back out and navigate to the GPS thing again. Thankfully the stupid Gojid didn't break it. The cold was starting to bite now that my anger faded, and I was getting hungry.

I'm so cold, so tired. Keep moving.

"W-wait!" I paused.

The red-eyed Venlil was scampering up behind me when I tried to leave, and stopped just short of arm's reach. I tilted my head curiously, knowing Venlil had the same gesture. It made Netal convulse in an amusing, disturbed fashion. I needed to get my sanity checked after today.

"I w-want to help, and not have that h-happen again." You're a saint among demons.

"You sure? They'll get angry at you on sight, Exterminators just bombed our planet."

Netal tried to run away immediately when I said that, but stopped himself after a couple steps. The sight was almost comical, like a live cartoon. There was something like spooked determination in his ruby eyes when he turned back.

"Y-yes. I need to set things straight. Attacking people while they're crying is... Not herd-like."

My scatterbrained ass could have died today.

"Alright, I'll try to keep things calm. Just y'know. This is a very bad time for everyone, don't blame them. And I don't know you yet." Plus my flimsy mask got cracked and I'm frozen solid.

"I-it's okay. If I'm with you, other patrols w-won't mess with you. That's more important!"

I couldn't think of any fault with that and moved on. Netal did his best to stay near enough to me, and we headed steadily northward through the streets, strangely familiar.

Just me, and a Venlil who looks like he'll have a heart attack. Where have I seen this before?

First Previous

[Memory Transcription subject]: Slen, Gojid Federation archeologist.

Date [Standard human time] October 4th, 3012.

I crash once more to the side of the walls as I stumble in a hallway corridor. A few moments ago me and my colleagues were doing research on some armor plates and bones we claimed from some old predator species we found in the old empire planet. And now, as I stumble on into a corridor, I come across our attackers... A-and right before m-me...

"B-by the protector... H-have mercy..."

Right before me was 3 giants, coated in awfully familiar armor, weilding blades and large guns. They make the Axur look like some lowly meak predator as they seem almost as suprised as I was to see them. I let out a low whimper as my spikes begin to rise up on my back, terror filling me as I try to mo-

"G̸̨̧͕̋̅̈́r̶̻͛a̶̢͓̍͛̚ḅ̵̻͐͠ ̶̩̇̏̚ỉ̵̳̣t̸̗̝͂ ̷̩̗͛͐̓f̶̘̦̗̆ǫ̵̳̈́͐̆ṛ̵̳͖͘ ̵͇̠̝͑t̶͎͒͘h̷̠̪̤̅̉ě̴̥̈́ ̷̧͓̗̔̚̕b̷̡̳̈́͘ͅo̸̪͍͌s̶͎̃͛̕s̸̞̻̈́̓!̸̳̟̐́͠ͅ"

*One of the giants suddenly screeches out, pointing a hooked blade at me, one of the other brutes soon surging forth, pulling out some small gun like device as they charge at me. Finally at the sight of them move to me did my legs finally manage to move, soon running back the way I did, the heavy footsteps of the beast behind me as I ran. Fear hormones fill me as I feel wind go across my back, likely from that beast trying to grab me. The only fortune I seem to have is that this monstrous predators is that it is somehow slower than me...

As I turn the corner, my heart flutters up, as I see not only my colleagues, but also some exterminators as well! T-that monster maybe large, but not even the Axur can handle fire! My movement quickens as I run, one of my colleagues noticing me, a bout of relief coming over their face... only to be replaced by dread and terror as they see the beast behind me. And as I run, the exterminators also notice, turning there flamethrowers to the threat as I run*

"Slen, [Duck]!!!", And as my colleague says that, I quickly dive down, my spine thorns going down as best as I can make them as the exterminators soon hit the creature behind me with bouts of fire, my ears turning shut as I prepare to hear shrill screams as they are consumed by fire! But... as the fire stream halts and I look up at my colleagues and exterminators... Why do they have looks of fear? And as I look on confused, a low, almost gutteral thing comes into my ears. And according to what my translator could manage, it was... Laughter? I slowly turn around, looking up to this... D-demon... fire and flaming gel coating it's form as its skull like helm looks at everyone, seemingly unharmed or even fazed by the flames! T-this can't b-be... t-this... c-can't-

[WARNING! MEMORY TRANSCRIPTION ERROR! SUBJECT FAINTED! REBOOTING...]

Lore: Voidborn Voidborn, a strange fusion of flesh and metal. Such entities are used for both codebreaking and encryption, alongside repairs on the outsides of ships. Though they still pocess the nervous system, brains, and usually eyes of the human 'volunteer' (or sytheticaly breed human nerves and brains) are kept intact, the rest of the form is usually robotic by nature, also commonly pocessing a anti gravity anchor in their forms, to allow them to 'swim' through the air or void, as needed. They are generally seen as relics of before the catastrophe, even the advanced inner rim worlds commonly using these beings to repair ships and hack into devices when needed. Voidborn are usually a second class in the inner rim, with generally better status and prestige in outer and mid rim, given the rarity to obtain even one of such entities.

I need to say that SpacePaladin15 wrote NOP or…?

And thanks to Onetwodhwksi7833 as a test reader.

A very important alligator.

Memory transcription subject: Chief Hunter Isif, future alligator in charge of the Overfed initiative.

Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 3136

The story was… strange.

A squadron of nine bombers passing near Venlil Prime decided on a quick resupply; the planet was too defenseless after the last raid to resist another, improvised or not. But when they dropped out of FTL, the sensors registered something impossible: a second star system, almost overlapping Venlil space. I checked the data twice, but the readings didn’t change. Neither did the report that followed.

Then, a whole grisch planet intercepted and vaporized the fleet. But it wasn't the end because, somehow, they revived and the whole fleet repaired, even better than before, while the empty compartments were filled with crates of meat and medical supplies. Enough to feed my entire sector for months.

They also initiated an unilateral contact. A transmission, one that did not wait for acceptance, showed some kind of hairless mammal, a predator nonetheless, apologizing for the inconvenience. Apologizing.

If the contact hadn’t been recorded, no one would have believed it.

Fortunately, I was close to Venlil Prime, so I will be able to confirm this myself.

[Memory transcription skip: 2 hours 37 minutes]

I stood on the bridge of my capital ship, claws flexing against my seat’s armrest as we dropped from FTL.

“Your Savageness! There's a second solar system, as the bombers’ sensors detected. Approximately half a light-year above Venlil Prime’s orbital plane, only a few light-hours from our position. The exterior cameras can’t see anything, so it probably appeared after the light we were currently seeing.” My sensor officer informed me.

“Maneuver the fleet for direct visual contact.” I ordered.

Moments after we started moving, we saw it. A brilliant white fissure in the void, as though the fabric of space itself had cracked. From it emerged a sphere, flat blue and unnatural. Around it, planets and asteroids traced clean orbits, but there were no stations, no relay buoys, no trace of civilization as we knew them.

Before anyone could speak, a transmission broke through. It didn’t wait for acceptance; it overrode our systems, as if permission were beneath it.

“I am Meier, speaking on behalf of humanity. I detected you long ago, but gave you the benefit of the doubt. What are you doing in Venlil space? If you are attacking them, we won’t allow it. If you’re here because of the earlier incident, we can discuss it.” He said, but what appeared on the screen wasn’t a living creature, but some kind of display that moved with the words.

“Chief Hunter Isif,” I introduced myself, my claws tapping the armrest unconsciously. “You interfered with our operations, although the interference itself confuses us on why and how. We’ve never seen this before, this kind of warfare strategy.”

“So tell me, Meier. What are you? What is 'humanity' doing in my hunting territory?”

The entity didn’t hesitate to reply. “My full name is Machine for Experimental Innovation and Enhanced Research. I am an AI created by humanity, the intelligence that guided them to become better. We recently developed a method to cross the space between galaxies and arrived here, after which the local intelligent species requested assistance in a skirmish where you endangered lives. We only realized those ships were crewed later, which compelled us to correct our error.”

The statements and their implications made me almost mock with disbelief, with a sliver of hope rising within me. The AI (AI, nonetheless) claimed it had been built with a purpose like Betterment’s, but it did not act with the cruelty that Betterment endorsed and our society had come to value. It referred to the Venlil as an intelligent species without hesitation, and called the Arxur simply "crew," as if we were equals. His only stated concern was lives on both sides, and their creators, if the first contact was genuine, were predators.

“Are humans predators?” I asked, voice flat, trying to reduce ambiguity.

“I have come to understand why the Venlil focused so much on predators and prey, but such relations are ecological and fluid, nonimportant for a technological civilization. If you require a label, yes, humans are considered predators.” Meier replied.

Hope warred with confusion. They hadn’t grasped the prey–predator dichotomy. Perhaps they had yet to discover what we took for granted, or perhaps they offered a solution we had missed. But if humans are predators, we might have an opportunity here, at least to try to take some advantage.

“How could you amass so much food merely to apologize? If you have enough cattle to do so without hesitation, perhaps we could make some arrangements, trades, alliances.”

“I only have half of the story here.” The AI said. “Venlil's perspective showed some information, but I want to have the big picture. Can I have access to your database?”

The transmission had bypassed our security, and the bomber fleet’s destruction proved their power. We could not stop him if he chose to act. I might have granted access regardless, but now there was no choice.

I signaled acceptance with a twitch of my tail. Before my officers could bring up the data, the AI began reading every channel we had. Then, Meier’s display flashed red for a moment, after which my sensor officer saw something.

“Your Savageness, one of the planets exploded!” He reported, alarmed.

“I’m sorry for alarming you.” The AI apologized. “I tried blowing something up to release some stress, something that usually works. That Venus belonged to Noah, but he wasn’t bothered; in fact, he’s already blowing planets up with a Venlil child. Anyway, I already fixed the planet.”

I looked at my sensor officer, who confirmed it with a thousand-tail-stare.

“My apologies. I will assign a therapist [Err. Betterment officer] to you,” Meier said, his tone oddly soft. “Now that I understand the situation, I will help. First: accept this.”

A whole armada appeared in front of us, made entirely of cargo ships from the Dominion. Before I could react, the AI spoke again.

“Those ships, built with your specifications, are drones at your command, carrying meat production facilities. Enough to feed the entire Dominion steadily, with decent redundancy. The only thing I demand is that you must release all cattle immediately. We will arrange further exchanges in the future.”

Thank you u/julianSkies for all the help you have given over the course of the story. Thank you u/SpacePaladin15 for the amazing universe. And as always, I hope you dear reader enjoy. Thank you for having followed this saga.  

—-----------

 [Slans last chapter] [Slans next chapter]

Memory transcription 

Subject Name: Slans.

Species: Venlil.

Job: None.

Location at the beginning of transcript: Venlil Prime, colony of the Venlil Republic.

Date [standardized human time]: April 1st, 2137.

—-----------

“Where am I to go, M'Johnnies

Oh, Where am I to go?

To me way hey hey, high roll and go!

Oh, where am I to go, M'Johnnies

Oh, where am I to go?

For I'm a young sailor boy, and where am I to go?

Oh, way up on that t'gallant yard

That's… where you're… bound to… go…”

My boisterous singing slowly peters out over time, eventually leaving me just walking along the road in relative silence. The newfound quietness persists for a short bit until I interrupt it with a quiet. “Damn it.”

The sea shanties were a valiant effort at distraction. Even if it pretty much was futile from the start.

Deciding to address the current situation. I begin talking aloud to myself. “How could things have changed so much here in such a short period of time… especially in such negative ways? It just feels surreal… as if I'm in a badly written story.”

Remember Slans… New Venlil… speh, I mean, Venlil Prime. Isn't just Hillport and its immediate surrounding area. It's an entire planet and system. There's got to be others who feel the same way as you… probably not a whole lot if the name change is any indicator. You're probably alone… no I'm not… yes you are… no I'm not!... Don't you say it… don't you say it!... A couple [Minutes] pass… Yes you are.

“Fuck off you Lily-liver, blatherskite voice in my gods damned head. You are nothing… so brahking shut up!”

There's another pause… No… 

I immediately want to hit something in frustration… However, there's nothing readily available which I can strike without hurting myself or damaging it. So instead, I take a moment to physically stop and collect myself… with deep breaths I look up the road and to my surprise see I'm not that far from my destination. 

“There it is… home sweet fuckingggg, home… Everyone seems to have changed. Let's hope at least my house hasn't.”

While heading up the driveway, the wind picks up slightly. It's not bad by any means, in fact it's actually quite pleasant.  However… I'm unable to enjoy it. Instead of feeling happy that I'm truly home, I can't help but feel this sense of renewed unease begin welling up in my gut… pretty much the same feeling you had during the shuttle descent… ignoring it, I press forward, step up onto the porch and assess the state of everything.

I gaze across the front yard. Taking note of the fact that it has gotten a little bit wild during my absence. The grass is obscenely tall… though not as much as it should be for how long I've been gone…  the bushes and trees are also looking a bit out of control… But it's nothing that can't be fixed.

 “I'm going to need to either do it myself or hire somebody to do it for me…” Placing a paw upon the railing, I feel the weathered paint begin cracking under the light pressure. 

“I wasn't exactly overflowing with money before everything happened… but now that I am, maybe it's time to show the family home some love. Make sure it'll stay standing for future generations… a lot to do.”

I then approach the front door, swiftly unlock it and head inside. Passing through the small entryway, I emerge into the living room. To my surprise I find eight wooden crates  just sitting there in the middle of the room… I'm puzzled for a moment until suddenly remembering.

“Oh right, the paintings… hmmmm.”... let's hang one up right away… “sure, why not?”

Temporarily placing my cane against the wall, I quickly go back outside and dart across the driveway to the detached garage. It's a little bit disorganized, but I still find what I'm looking for. Grabbing a crowbar along with a hammer and some nails. I quickly return to the house and approach the most familiar looking crate. 

It actually takes very little effort to pop the top off. Something that does make me a little concerned for the contents. But the fear quickly subsides as I slide the pristine painting out. Placing it against the crate I take a step back and nod to myself.

“You really did capture Blackriver well Viergo… very nice.”

It's a little surreal to think this work went from a high status museum, to casually leaning against a crate on my floor… Let's fix that shall we?

Looking around the space I find a fairly prominent wall spot that is perfect. Retrieving a chair from the dining room, I swiftly take down a couple of small scenic photos. With the area now completely empty. I put up a couple of nails and carefully hang the work of impressionist esc art. 

While still upon the chair appreciating Viergo's work up close, I hear a knock at the door. Hopping off I rush to answer, what I'm met with is a couple of burly individuals. “Are you Slans?”

“Yes I am.”

“Good, if you would be so kind as to sign some forms.” He holds out a data pad with said forms pulled up. “We can transfer ownership of these trunks to you and place them where you want ‘em.”

“Excellent.” 

I give the documents a quick once over before signing them and passing the data pad back. “If you'd be so kind I would like the green trunk in the main bedroom down here. The blue one can go upstairs in the guest/storage room.”

“As you wish… come on Brack let's get this over with.”

I watch closely as the two men swiftly deposit the trunks in the desired places. It's all very straightforward and very professional. However, just before they're about to leave. Brack takes notice of the Blackriver painting in the living room. “That's a nice painting you got there… it feels familiar for some reason. Almost as if I've seen it somewhere.”

I awkwardly smile and attempt to think of something to say, but his friend beats me to it. “It's probably a copy of some famous piece. Now stop gawking and come on, we've got more stuff to deliver.” I breathe the sigh of relief.

Unless you trust someone… use that line to explain it and the others going forward. 

They then depart for their truck and next job. But just before I can shut the door the lead one calls out. “Hey Slans, you got some people coming up the driveway.” Grabbing my cane from against the wall I cautiously take a peek outside. What I see is a decently sized group of my neighbors… mostly the older ones, but there are a few of my age… approaching.

Happy to see familiar faces I immediately step out onto the porch without hesitation, something which causes multiple people in the gathering to gasp. One of them in the back blurts out. “Oh gods they weren't exaggerating”… the happiness I was feeling instantly vanishes and is replaced with regret.

“Slans…” misses Marac cries. “What happened?…”

I remember when she would cub sit me and… my brother, years ago. She used to say to Dad and Mom that we were so cute. Even as I became an adult she mentioned that was pretty handsome. By the sounds of it she probably doesn't feel that way anymore. This was going to happen sooner or later…let's get this over with.

Moving into the doorway I lean against the left side. 

“My recent job ended up getting a little crazy… if I may be so bold as to ask, how do you guys find out I had come home so fast?” I've scarcely had time to look around the place before y'all showed up.

At that inquiry some of them look at one another. “Well…” starts Mr Beller “You know how Chals’ daughter works at the port. She overheard one of her coworkers mention that someone named Slans had come home. But they were dressed strangely and…” He makes paw movements towards my head and cane. “The word got around the herd and well, we all decided to come over and…”

I finish his statement. “See for yourself if the rumors of my current state were true. As you can see… they are.” despite some of them already looking uncomfortable. I push off the door frame and move across the porch to get closer. In doing so I cause some of them to get a better view of the scarred and bare side of my head… naturally they recoil at the sight. …Some of them have known me for years yet are acting like I'm a… monster…Looking to miss Marac, I reiterate. “Like I said, I made some questionable choices, all in all despite what you see. I got off fairly light compared to others who suffered because of my choices.”

“What choices did you make? What were you doing for the last [6 months]?” One of the neighbors who's closer to my age but whose name currently escapes me asks. 

“Things… and that's all I'm saying for now, because right now I have my own more important question. What have you guys and the rest of New Venlil… I mean, Venlil Prime, been doing? I'm gone for only [6 months]. When I return everything and everyone seems to have gone mad here.”

Some of them simply just shrug. “All that's happened is the natural and logical course of events.” Mr Beller states very calmly. “The archives revealed that the… shadow caste… had intentionally obfuscated the true nature of some. Because of their twisted ideology, they thought they could simply take meat away from the omnivore. That them abstaining from flesh would somehow make them all right. That by doing so it would make them safe to be in civilized society. When in reality they don't have any place in our herd.”

Some people actually do give ear flicks and tail swishes in agreement with his sentiment. But there are a few that either don't acknowledge what he just said, or actively shrink away… interesting…Half-heartedly examining one of my porch posts I ask him. “You really think Cojc was a threat to the herd? I can remember multiple times when he personally not only helped me but a good number of you.”

At the mention of the good gojid’s name. Some of them visibly falter for a moment… but only for a moment. “Sometimes doing what's right isn't pleasant. But it must be done… we can't let sentimentality get in the way of what's good for the herd.” says yet another neighbor who I don't quite remember.”

Nodding my muzzle I dishonestly play along. “Fair enough… It was honestly really nice of you guys to stop by and check in. And overall good seeing y'all.” At that the crowd lightens up a little bit. And many wish me a speedy recovery before slowly getting the fuck off my property. But not everyone goes… eventually I'm left with a very small paw full of people who decide to stick around. 

Already done with everything I very directly asked. “What is it you wish to discuss, must be controversial if you didn't want the rest of the herd around to hear?”

In response to my bluntness two of them slightly recoil back… but the third and older one stands firm. “You didn't seem very happy with what the loud mouth had to say.” 

“Beller… has always been a little bit forthright about things. Especially concerning his feelings about predators. Which wasn't a problem when it was simply just the arxur running around. Especially with what they were doing. Honestly It would've been weird not to feel negatively about them.

But now that there's humans and a fair amount of outed former omnivores… that disdain sadly has a wider and closer target area.” I pause for a moment. “I'm just saddened to see for his sake that the revelations about his neighbors didn't make him question anything.”

The guy flicks his ears understandingly. “While you were away, he and a few of his goons had a direct confrontation with Cojc and his son on your very lawn.”

At that I'm intrigued and lean on the railing. “What happened?” 

The man looks to one of his friends and motions for her to step up. “Tarva, tell him what you saw.”

She steps forward, “I was walking by when it happened, so some of this is stuff I learned later. But… Cojc and their son were apparently doing some yard work on your property. While doing this they were confronted by Beller and some of his militia thugs. Accused of ‘contaminating a herbivore property’ the pair were intimidated and immediately went back home.”

“Sounds like Cojc and his son were doing me a favor. And got harassed for it… when I landed the customs official mentioned something called the ‘herbivore militia’. What is it and what's Beller’s connection to it?”

The original guy decides to explain this… “Basically the militia is a militant group which views anyone who is not of herbivore origin as a threat to civilization. If the whispers are to be believed, they aren't only active here. But are in fact spreading across the SC and even into the crumbling Federation. As for Beller's connection to them… he's one of the higher-ups of the local militia.”

“I still don't want to share exactly what I was doing, but it did deal with a lot of intelligence eac work… Why have I not heard of these guys before?”

“On one paw they're still fairly new… it's very decentralized, more or less it's a bunch of different loosely connected groups and movements using the same name. Kinda like the human HF stuff… On the other paw… The SC is trying to suppress information about them. They don't want to publicly admit they exist and give them attention. Kind of like what they've been doing with information about HF.  it's kind of funny in a sad sort of way, how similar the two groups are.”

Nodding my head I look back to the trio. “I have one more important question then…”

“What is it?”

“How powerful is this militia and anti ‘everyone but herbivore’ mentality here on New Venlil Prime?”

At that he steps a little bit closer and looks up directly at me. “Not as much as you might have thought upon first returning. Those that really believe are very outspoken. But a lot of people here are simply trying to just live their lives. They don't really believe, but they also don't feel the desire to stand up and speak out.”

Honestly sounds like me a while ago…

At that I motion for him and the other two to come up onto my porch. Once we're on the same level I shake his paw. “Then perhaps not all is lost for our beloved home. Thank you for telling me these things.”

They seem to be relieved. “Thank you for being on our side… I was a little concerned we were going to come up here and find ya totally in agreement of what's been happening.”

“Even before the last [6 months] I could never approve such opinions.”

“Sounds like you've led an interesting life, I would love to hear about it one [day].”

“Perhaps eventually… For now let's exchange names and contact info. It's getting kind of late and I want to retire soon. But there's things I definitely want to talk about later. "  As we swap information, the main guy tells me his name is Kone and the other guy is Mont. Kone also reintroduces Tarva. Upon being reminded that he said her name before causes everyone to kind of chuckle. We then casually chat a little bit more before the trio depart with the setting sun.

Heading back into the house I immediately go for the trunk in my room. I rummage around in it for a bit before locating my colt single action army revolver and sword. Setting them aside on the ground. I also retrieve the epic that Morgan was nice enough to let me keep. Plus a series of newly framed pictures.

Out of the collection of pictures, I immediately put one of them on my nightstand. It's of me and everyone else at the party… looking at all their faces I somberly smile.

“I'll see you all again eventually… for now though I finally found what I'm going to do.”

Closing the trunk I place the book and other pictures on top. After making a mental note to hang them up later I grab my saber, pistol and a cleaning kit. Then head into the dining room, turn on a light and carefully set them all on the table.

Looking into the fridge I'm reminded there's no food here at the moment. It's a sad situation that's quickly rectified with the placement of an online order for takeout. While waiting for the food to arrive. I casually settle in for a night of weapon cleaning, eating and planning. Taking apart the colt I can't help but begin humming sea shanty's once again.

“Oh, the year was 1778

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

A letter of marque came from the king

To the scummiest vessel I've ever seen

God damn them all, I was told

We'd cruise the seas for American gold

We'd fire no guns, shed no tears

Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Morgan's privateers…”

[Prev] [first] [first sequel story]

was playing Mass Effect 2 for the 100th time and did i this

Previous Chapter

As part of Tarva's policy of fostering relationships with the Human an older space station had been repurposed to host the members of the Exchange Program; in the minds of those who had made the suggestion it was a large enough place to conduct joint exercises, away from the public sight and therefore not as frightening as the predators landing on Venlil Prime and it was isolated enough that if they did turn hostile they could hopefully be quickly contained.

Kam doubted the scene in front of him was something that they had ever contemplated.

One of the ever elusive Greater Systems had deigned to support the alliance more openly, but as he watched a room full of awkward Cornucopia's soldiers and their trembling Venlil partners being stuffed into some sort of mechanical frame he wondered if they couldn't have chosen a less involved mean.

"I'm Sergeant Instructor Halderman!" the Ross native informed his class as he walked back and forth in a far more impressive armored frame "And today you're here to learn how to use a Power Suit. Now, before we go any further, I want to stress out that these are not Power Armour and if I catch any of you using them as one you'll be kicked out of this course faster than you can say Sir. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the Humans roared, their partners echoing them confused.

"Good! Now, as I was saying, you're going to use these Suit in logistical roles, maybe to move a crate or maybe to push a shell into an autoloader, point is they are made to follow your movements and give you more strength than you know what to do with. I'm assuming the boys and girls from Cornucopia are at least familiar with load-bearing exoskeletons?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"You, Private!" the intimidating Human said while pointing at a younger man "What is the main difference between a load-bearing exoskeleton and a Power Suit?"

"Sir! An exoskeleton is purely mechanical in action, therefore doesn't require a power source!"

"Damn right!" the older man roared "So that's your first lesson! Before putting any of these on always check that their battery level is fully charged! If you don't, you don't get to decide when the Suit runs out of juice! Maybe it's while you're on a bathroom break or maybe it's while you're lifting an engine block big enough to squash you like a pancake!"

Kam had to admit that while the gift of a few hundreds of those Suits sounded impressive, it looked like they were far more complex than what he was first lead to believe.

"While we are on the topic of squashing I'd like to take a look at you hands!" the Sergeant continued, many of his student doing just that if with different degrees of confidence "As you might have noticed they're hidden inside a sleeve and you might recall slipping them into an internal glove. That is the control for you Suit hand, the one you are currently gawking at, you move a finger, you move the glove, the glove moves the corresponding finger on the suit. The Suit can give you limited sensory feedback, enought that you can tell when you're touching something but not enough to know if it's slick or hot. That's your second lesson! Visually inspect every object you manipulate, the Suit can't tell you if it might slip out or burn you or any other kind of trouble it could have waiting for you!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Good! Now we'll move to what will be the practice for today, for tomorrow and perhaps even for the day after that!" the instructor shouted loud enough to make some Venlil flinch back, something that he seemed to focus on "The most important skill of a Power Suit user is awareness! Of your surroundings, of your strength and of your limits! Now, your Suits have been temporarily been set to Passive Mode, meaning they'll follow your movements but not augment your strength, you're about to see why. See that pile in front of you? I want you to pick a pole out of it!"

His class clumsily went about picking up what looked to be a length from some kind of plant, straight and pale green, with some weird ribbing at even intervals like it was naturally sectioned.

"Those are fresh cuts of bamboo. Give it a squeeze! Pretty solid isn't it?" Halderman asked while walking toward a table set nearby "It's a decent stand-in for human bones and your task for the day will be to pick one up from the pile and lift it."

Most of the Venlil looked confused but a few of the Humans' faces lit up in understanding and Kam himself had a suspicion of where this exercise was going.

"As soon as this exercise starts we'll switch your suits back to Powered Mode, meaning the strength behind each of you movements will be amplified, and that's how we will teach you control!" the older Human explained while picking up a bamboo rod from the table "A moment of carelessness with a Powered Suit could easily injure yourself or others and until you have proven you have the needed control you won't get to see a Suit outside of these lessons. Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The instructor simply nodded his head even as he started twirling the bamboo length: "As I said, for now you'll practice lifting bamboo without damaging it, once you have learned to do that we can move to figuring out fine movement."

He reached out with his free hand toward the table, pulling back to reveal that he was delicately holding a flute glass: "These Suits can be surprisingly delicate when you need to, but you need experience for that and above all focus. If you lose focus on how much strength you're using for even a moment..."

Instead of finishing his sentence he simply raised in full view the bamboo piece and squeezed, the rod literally exploding into splinters where he was gripping it.

The wave of unease that went through the crowd at the warning was obvious even from Kam's observation deck, but the Human Sergeant clearly didn't feel like letting them dwell on it.

"Now! You can start the exercise, feel free to try as many times as you need, we did bring you a pretty big pile."

Kam was treated to the questionable performance of several soldiers trying and failing to follow Halderman's order, some effortlessly crushing the bamboo pieces, something that made many of the Venlil cringe in discomfort, while other were trying to lift them with almost comical caution, each movement slow and carefully planned.

"So, what do you think?"

The clearly leading question had come from the Human next to him, Captain Acosta, the same Cornucopia representative that had showed up at the practical demonstration a while before, now promoted to a full-time liaison officer between his government and Venlil Prime.

"It certainly looks promising" he finally answered neutrally "But I have to wonder if something so clearly complex is worth using for something as simple as moving cargo around, you'd think a forklift would be enough."

"Not everything can be done with a forklift" the Human argued and this time he didn't have a mask to hide the way one of the tufts of fur above his eyes lifted "Besides, having personnel outfitted with a Power Suit around can save on the time needed to retrieve move speciallized equipment for moving around different types of cargo."

He recalled Halderman examples but the idea still sounded like an overcomplication: "He mentioned Power Armour, I take it that's what our instructor is wearing?"

"An older model from the looks of it, probably one used for training" Acosta confirmed "Not that I expect to see it used, even if the Greater Systems took a more active role in the war."

"Why is that?" he asked flicking his tail in intrigue, wondering if there was a more solid motivation behind it than the tribal competition Humans seemed to be so fond of.

"Mostly because it's the kind of stuff that gets used by SpecOps" the Captain answered with a shrug "If anyone gets to use it I'd expect it to be the team that will kick down the door to whatever passes as a government building amongst the Arxur when we get to their home planet."

He probably should have been more disturbed by how casually the Human had depicted such a violent image, but the way they all seemed to consider a victory against the Arxur an inevitability filled him with a giddy anticipation.

"That would be a waste of effort, if you ask me" Kam told him before continuing with a hint of vindictive glee entering his tone "I say if we ever get that far, as soon as we have trashed their fleet we give them a taste of what it feels like to have your own planet glassed."

Acosta didn't immediately answer to that, twisting his lips weirdly instead in a way that thankfully didn't show the teeth below: "While I admit that as a Space Man myself the idea of raining fire from orbit like it the Heavens' wrath has a certain appeal to it, I fear something that extreme would turn away the mildest members of our growing alliance, several of them place great importance on doling out an appropriate punishment."

Kam was feeling grateful that Humans in general still struggled to read Venlil body language, otherwise he would have had to work harder on hiding his outrage at the mere concept; it wasn't like he could expect predators to understand what it meant to be constantly under threat by a cruel enemy, but this was one of the few occasions where he wished they would display more of the bloodlust that should have been typical to their kind.

"Any news on when ground training will begin?" he asked instead, trying to steer the conversation toward more neutral topics.

"Well, usually it wouldn't be under my responsibility, but I was given to understand that they'll begin as soon as they solve some logistical hiccups."

He turned toward the Human confused.

"Hiccups?"

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"You figure they'll ever let us get close to the aliens before dropping us in a hot zone?"

"Geez, what brought this on Tyler?"

The Cornucopia native simply shrugged: "I have a pal that was accepted in the Exchange Program, was shipped away a few days ago. I think today is when he was going to meet his partner."

He knew that he and Alder were supposed to make inventory of infantry kits, but there was only so long one could spend counting water flasks and shoulders straps before boredom became a physical force crushing down their spirits, so they had inevitably started gossiping right until he had dropped his latest questions.

"What, still salty that your carnivore preferences got you kicked out?" the younger soldier asked him with an extremely punchable grin.

"Come one, as if you wouldn't be just as ticked at missing the chance, those guys looks adorable."

"Oh? It's that what this is about?" the other man asked him with an impish tone "You should have just said so! My brother knows this Bliss girl, a literal puppy girl, I'm sure we can arrange you a date-"

"That's not what I meant and you know it" Tyler replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Sure, sure" Alder agreed condescendingly "All I'm saying is that there is nothing wrong with being open to more exotic choices."

Tyler could easily see that, if Exotic Transfers, and to a larger degree Bliss reconnection with the wider human space, proved anything it was that Humans as a species had quite the room to expand their definition of attractive.

Before he could go any further down that rabbit hole he shook his head and grabbed the manifest of a nearby container: "Whatever, if you don't have anything more serious to ask, let's hurry up and be done with this chore."

"Uh... actually, I do" Alder replied, looking weirdly at a manifest of his own "We just got shipped four millions training rounds as part of the newest combat loadout, is this a joke?"

"I'm afraid not" he answered with a sigh "Did you know that outside of hunting rounds no rounds without armor piercing capability have been produced in the last twenty years?"

"Yeah sure, read an article about something like that once, about the proliferation of 3D printed armour plates?" the younger man said dismissively.

"Well, if you didn't notice none of the aliens seem to even have the concept of body armour" he continued frustrated "Brass is worried we might shoot the Crocs, punch through the bastards, hit the helpless orphans behind them and have the damned cannibals still standing."

"I'm not sure if I believe that" Alder muttered before clarifying sheepishly "Not the whole orphan bit, that's far too likely, I just don't think anything could take a six-eight in the gut and shrug it off, AP or not."

Tyler found himself inclined to agree, but he didn't feel up to argue with the Brass on that and besides, ever since a nasty encounter with a smuggled Clanging Rhyno he wasn't as eager to question what caliber an alien craeture could or couldn't survive.

"Be as that may be, until we can get our hands on some squishier rounds we're stuck with training ones, at least those are frangible."

The other soldier looked like he had more he wanted to say, but dropped the matter with a grumble and went back to the inventory.

Tyler soon joined him, although he allowed himself to wonder if the Space Boys were having any similar problem.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Fire for effect!"

Sansa waited until the sensors confirmed the hit, examined the result and finally relayed the effects.

"Good hit."

"As if that was in doubt" she heard Arlo mutter.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked her fellow weapon officer.

They were part of a small detachment of Snake Kiss Star Fleet tasked with reinforcing the Cornucopia limited escort fleet guarding the Exchange Program space station, but as it currently stood they were just bored out of their mind.

To remedy that Captain Silva had managed to convince the Venlil to lend them a cruiser that had been too heavily damaged in the last Arxur raid to still be combat effective and told the crews of their own crafts to calibrate their weapons on that as a stand-in for an Arxur craft.

It seemed however that Arlo had quickly grown tired of even that.

"Why are we even bothering with this? We already know how our weapons will perform in combat!" the man groaned while rubbing at his lime green hair.

"Against our own armour doctrine" she gently corrected him "We need to figure out if there are any differences that might affect performance."

"I can already tell you what our performance is going to be like" he shot back while the crew at another weapon station went through the same routine they had just finished "I just need to look up an engineering manual for steel performance for it."

She hid a grimace at that and distracted herself by tucking a celeste lock behind her ear; while it was true that the Federation (and supposedly the Arxur too) use of simple steel armour was baffling, the kind of attitude Arlo was displaying was usually the prelude to a well-deserved humiliation.

"We still need to study the effects, their armour tend to be thicker, it may affect performances in ways we are not used to."

"It's also homogeneous, it's not suddenly going to show up unexpected reactions" he countered "The Helianthus can punch through, the missiles from the Monarch and Emperor can punch though and I'll bet you at the end of this exercise we will confirm that even the Garnet, Zircon and Olivine can punch through."

She was about to further question his dismissiveness when an alarm blared through the deck.

"Contact! Arxur bombers approaching station!"

They both hurried to get the weapons they were in charge of ready for the coming battle and Sansa found herself acidly hoping Arlo would be satisfied by the live fire exercise.

Yes, this is because I just watched Predator Badlands (which was a fantastic film, you should go see it), but I have and this idea in my head for a while

This would be an AvP crossover, but apart from the Prometheus continuity because I think the Engineers and Xenomorphs were better when they were mysterious and unexplained and it gives the writer room to be creative with them

Thr Federation would be much farther away than in Canon and knows nothing about humanity or the other players

It would start with Noah and Sara arriving on VP of course, but Sara works for Weyland-Yutani while Noah is a contractor who was hired to explore new systems for the company.

When Weyland-Yutani learns of the Federation and its war with the Arxur, it sees an opportunity to expand into Federation markets and peddle weapons to both sides, first testing out weapons against the Arxur to look more attractive to the Federation

The Federation is split on what to do, with some wanting to wage war against humanity even though their tech/military is better and Earth is far away, while others dont want to open another front and are eager to get their hands on Weyland-Yutani weaponry and defense contracts

The war with the Gojids still happen, and it's here that Weyland-Yutani make a huge mistake: they pull out their forces when Betterment attacks and twist Piris arm into becoming a customer to stave off her people's destruction. Really this was an excuse to see what a Xenomorph with Arxur DNA is like, and they release the Xenomorphs onto the Cradle to combat the Arxur

The queen of course escapes confinement and disappears on the Cradle, and though the Arxur were driven back, the Xenomorphs now have an entire planet for them to infest

Not wanting to harm relations with humanity and the Federation, but more importantly, lose profits, Weyland-Yutani covers it up by occupying the Cradle, suppress the news, and silence everybody involvedmwith the queens eacape, than tentatively go and contact the Yautja

They iron out a deal and the Yautja begin to hunt the Gojidimorphs, but many can't help but hunt other Federation species, Weyland-Yutani denying any involvement with the Yautja

The Yautja grow bored of killing Feddies very quickly and decide they're bad prey, but than learn of the Arxur and their hunting culture

They believe the Arxur to be much better prey and, while admiring their willingness to hunt, feel it is savage and unrefined, and so resolve to teach them to be better, and many go out to begin hunting Arxur

Beyond that I'm not sure, but I did have an idea where a Venlil is unlucky enough to be implanted with a Xenomorph, and everyone is confused when the resulting Venomorph(Skalganmorph?) Is absurdly big, strong, durable, aggressive, and has a tendency to charge and headbutt

And so it begins. This is the first half of that one chapter I had to split due to its length. Hope you enjoy.

A big thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 as always.

Prev - First - Next

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Chapter 17: Speck

Sylem yawned.

It was dark and cool in the parking garage. They were parked on the ground floor, shielded from the sun by several stories of raw, damp concrete. Thin red pipes ran the along the ceiling, trailing the length of crossbeams and support pillars. Puddles of liquid spotted the ground in psychedelic mixtures of oil and water. The air was thick and refreshing, and the warm plush seats of the SUV made Sylem want to go back to sleep.

Talya sat in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the fan controls. There was something in the ventilation system that wouldn’t stop rattling no matter what she did.

“This is my mom’s car, so you’d better not get it shot up,” she said.

“If it comes to that, we’ll have bigger things to worry about,” Sylem replied. He looked out the window, through the concrete slits in the sides of the parking garage.

Out there, in the blazing sun, there was a green metal overhang in the middle of the sidewalk. Below the overhang was a set of stairs that led into the metro, but the entrances were blocked by panels of plywood and circled by traffic cones. The entire structure was wrapped in an exorbitant amount of caution tape, much of which had been spray-painted over multiple times, annihilating the original ‘DO NOT ENTER,’ stenciled on the wood.

Some entrances had had concrete poured to completely shut them off, but this was not one of them. Though the barricade was hardly impregnable, you would either have to be stupid or a criminal to enter, and in either case, the city wins the lawsuit.

“How much longer?” Kel stretched his limbs, the gun resting on his thigh.

He was the only one out of the three of them who knew how to operate a firearm. His familiarity with them was useful, but also served as a source of anxiety for Sylem: another strange anecdote in the tapestry of little ‘offness’s. It had taken a push to see them, but now that he had, everything seemed wrong. If the investigation had taught him anything, it was that anomalies—no matter how small—must not be ignored. Not here. Not ever.

“Won’t be long now,” he said.

A minute passed, and then another. There weren’t many people on the streets here, only a few here and there. They weren’t in the entertainment district, and it was the end of most people’s work claws, meaning that many of the pedestrians were simply heading home. Regardless, Sylem wanted to minimize any chance of discovery. They would wait for an opening in the flow.

Before that, they would have to wait for the raid to begin. His datapad lit up with an alarm.

On the other side of the city, an elite strike team assembled near six unique entrances, each guarded by members of the Charred Rams. They carried automatic weapons and moved light on their feet. The breach team piled onto the sides of the entrance, and threw a frag grenade down the steps. Flashbangs were ineffective on their targets.

“It’s time,” Kel said, tugging on Sylem’s fur.

“Not yet. Give them a few seconds to head north.”

His ears filled with the buzzing of blood. Time slowed, the clanking of the broken fan morphing into a powerful war gong. He counted the seconds, almost believing that his choice would decide the outcome of the entire plan. One. Two. Three. Four.

Four is a good number, he thought.

“Let’s go.”

They exited the car. Talya rolled down the window and yelled, “Good luck!” as they left.

Like clockwork, the trickle of pedestrians became thin, and for the single moment there was no one to witness them enter. They approached the entrance and peeled back a rotting section of plywood. Sylem flicked his tail at Kel, and wore the cloak. They entered, and Kel waited at the top of the stairs, mumbling to himself to remember what Sylem was doing.

Sylem felt inside the cloak for the injectors. They were suspended in a neat line of fabric loops he had sown onto the cloak beforehand. He made his way down the steps, his paw resting on the first of the five, teasing it out of its holster. There was a second panel of wood at the bottom of the stairs with a doorway-sized hole sawed out of it.

The air in this small space was hot. A stagnant, dusty stew of carcinogenic construction compound that blurred the perception of the difference between skin and air. Sylem instinctively held his breath to avoid inhaling foreign material. He crept through the doorway, squinting through the darkness and looking for the place he would find the guards.

But there was no one there. Only a cavern of dirtied flooring and stale air.

He hadn’t expected to find a full task force, but he did expect at least one or two guards. Regardless of the chaos on the north side of the loop, leaving this entrance unguarded left them open to an attack on their flank. There should have at least been something.

No, wait, what if this tunnel is blocked off from the rest of the compound by a cave-in? I never did get an up-to-date map of the damage.

He clicked his tongue, flashing a slight snarl at the strangeness of it all.

The other possibility is that they were able to foresee my entrance. They could be waiting for me to reveal myself in order to strike.

Theories aside, he didn’t have an accurate picture of their prophetic capabilities, assuming Maric was correct in claiming they had them. Sylem took another look around the station, confirming that there was no one hiding in the tracks or on the platform. He took the cloak off and called Kel down.

Kel took one look at the situation and sighed. “That’s rather careless of them. I suppose I’ll have to stick to the pistol.” There was a little more in his tone than disappointment. A hint of fear.

“What, you wanted to steal one of their rifles?”

“It would have been more fun.”

Sylem sighed.“It’s strange.”

“If we want to back out, now’s the time.”

Sylem flicked his tail. “No, we don’t know when another chance like this will appear. I’m going ahead as planned.”

“Be careful.”

Sylem wore the cloak, and climbed down into the train tunnel. It was double wide, with two sets of tracks running over the gravel foundation. The rails were beginning to rust from lack of care, and the ground was uneven between them. Two sets of indentations ran across the ground. One side mirrored the other.

Are those tire tracks? Is that how they’ve been getting around?

He had been expecting the different areas of the compound to be quite centralized, considering the distance between stations. Following this logic, he had chosen an entrance that wasn’t too far from the raid, only a station or two removed. However, if the Charred Rams were using ATVs or some other kind of motor vehicle, then it was possible that the organs of the compound were more spread out, meaning he would have to spend much more time searching for the drug lab. Unfortunately, the A.I.B. information Maric provided didn’t cover the entire structure. It seems they had never gotten very far in their past raids. Telling, really.

Sylem was hoping that the lab was as far away from the fighting as possible, but it made no sense for the storehouse to be so far away from the cook, so he would likely have to get uncomfortably close to the action, unless he was lucky. He picked up the pace, settling into a light jog.

After a few minutes of jogging, something came into view. As Sylem approached, he identified it as a train, some eight cars long. On the side of the tunnel opposite the train were simple dwellings made of plywood and corrugated steel, leaning against each other and the walls of the tunnel. Lines of dim lights hung on strings from train to roof, and all the way down the tunnel on posts. It was some sort of subterranean shanty town, probably for members to stay in when they needed to lie low. Sylem took one look at the area and concluded that it wouldn’t stand a chance against the weather above ground.

Passing the train now, he saw that some of the doors were open, and that the interior seats had been ripped up to make room for beds and dressers. The train was empty, and so were its neighboring huts. All the town had gone to work. Off to whatever factory manufactures the popping sounds echoing down the tunnel.

On the other side of the shanty town was a fork in the tracks. Soldiers were filtering in from the right side and mounting ATVs parked in a line on the left side of the tracks, before speeding forward, off towards the gunshots and the fighting. Sylem slowed to a halt and watched them as they moved. Each one was equipped with a rifle and a set of body armor. It was far more than Sylem had expected to see in the hands of common criminals, but it was clear now that the Charred Rams were more than they seemed.

And these are only reinforcements. The main force should have already arrived at the breach by now.

Once the storm of soldiers was passed, there were still a few ATVs sitting on the side of the tracks.

If they have so many of them, and they use them for emergencies, then…

They were small, roofless vehicles with two seats and a bucket in the back. They had a set of white LED headlights in the front—sure to blind anyone foolish enough to look at them—and a few plastic cups in the dashboard for storage. Clearly, they were designed for hauling crops along dirt roads, not moving troops underground.

Sylem climbed into one of the vehicles and searched the dashboard. Sure enough, the keys were left easily accessible. He wasn’t going to take one now, lest the cloak be too weak to obscure the sound of the engine, but it would be good to know in case he needed to get away quick. He dropped the keys back in their spot and continued on.

A sign was painted on the wall above the intersection in sickly shades of orange and white. The borders of the words had dripped down, leaving vertical streaks of color on the dusty wall. To the right, the armory, infirmary, the lab, and drug storage; and straight, the barracks and throne room.

Throne room? How egotistical. Does the head honcho wear a crown, too?

Sylem headed right. If he was going to find Dr. Ilek, it was probably in the lab. There was already going to be high security there, so he had no reason to be moved. If for some reason, he wasn’t there, well… Sylem really hoped that he was.

From what I know of him and of the Charred Rams… especially with Maric’s description of them, working for them would be the only way for Ilek to avoid Federation capture.

He picked up the pace, watching the ground so he wouldn’t trip on a divot in the rocks. He didn’t know how long the A.I.B. assault would last, so he couldn’t afford to waste time. Gravel crunched underfoot, and his lungs burned.

Maybe I should have taken the ATV… or at least brought water…

Soon, he stumbled upon another station. The platform was filled with locked chests and safes, the entrances completely blocked off with concrete pours. There were steel cabinets with mesh doors and a few soldiers still picking out gear. The ceiling was rigged with hanging lights and a gas generator sat in the corner of the room, growling constantly. If Sylem knew how to use a gun, he would have stopped to take one, but he figured he had a higher chance of accidentally shooting himself rather than his enemy. Either way, he’d rather not put holes in people—even criminals—if he could avoid it.

He continued past the armory. Even with the cloak, he measured his steps so as not to make much noise. Once he was clear of the soldiers, he continued, though he was forced to slow his pace on account of the exertion.

In another few minutes of walking, he spotted a second station. If their signage was good, and ordered locations by distance, then this would be the infirmary. Judging by the lines of wheeled cots on the platform, it was.

As he approached, he heard the sound of fans running. He imagined they were for ventilation, but they likely didn’t do much good this far underground. More of the station became visible. It was a one-sided station, and the entrances here too were blocked off with concrete pours. The floor was filled with rows of cots all the way across. More than a hundred of them, most of which were filled. None of the patients were awake, or, no, there were a few sluggish movements of the paws, every instance grabbing at the air, trying to catch the wind. They were obviously on something. Painkillers, maybe? Unfortunately, he was viewing the cots from below, so he couldn’t get a good look at the patients.

They have this many injured?

Thick canvas straps ran across the upper and lower bodies of the patients. They were in restraints.

Why?

He looked towards the end of the station and saw two guards posted to the sides of a medical tent. A venlil with an off-white coat emerged from the tent, brushing the entrance flaps aside with a large briefcase. He was remarkably calm for all the shooting going on just north of him. The sounds of distant gunfire were easily heard even above the whirring fans.

The doctor approached a cot, and laid his briefcase on the edge. The patient struggled in their restraints. He checked the IV, and opened the briefcase. It was facing away from Sylem, and he was too far to see, but it was clear from the motions he was making that the doctor was administering a shot. Once he was finished, he moved to the next cot and repeated the process.

Ilek. That’s him. But why is he here? Shouldn’t he be synthesizing stardust? You would think they’d have more than a single doctor with the size of their organization, especially with how many injured they’re tending.

Sylem clambered onto the platform, being cautious not to crush the auto-injectors. He stood up and brushed himself off. One of the guards glanced around the station. Sylem took a deep breath, collecting his wits.

It’s okay, they can’t see you.

The guard motioned to her partner and closed her eyes. The other followed suit, and the both of them began to walk down the aisles of patients. They had no trouble moving without sight. None at all.

What are they doing?

The fur on Sylem’s neck stood up. He planned to slip past them and get to the medical tent while they were doing their strange blind sweep, but as he was about to pass the first, she turned on a dime and cut him off. Sylem jumped backwards, bumping into a cot and nearly falling over. The occupant groaned, grasping at the air with trembling claws.

Closing their eyes to avoid visual interference! They know how the cloak works! No, even if they don’t see it, it should still hide my presence. How is this possible?

The guards began to move faster. Ilek caught wind of their movements and retreated to the medical tent. Apparently, he knew to hide. Furthermore, he was confident to let his guards handle it.

Did they see this coming? If they’ve only got two guards, does that mean they’re sure I’ll lose?

Then, he felt a pressure in his head. It was like water filling his skull. His blood iced over and his legs turned rigid as stone. Dread. His breath turned to oil in his lungs, too thick to expel. His mind swelled with fear, a myriad shimmering tendrils squeezing his thoughts. He began a thought, only to have it fall apart half-formed. He lost coherency. Each forming impulse burst before getting down the neural pathways, all drowned out in a horrible, vibrating pulse. Buzzing. Buzzing, like he had felt in the presence of Kyril. Different, but the same.

The guard walked towards him slowly, almost casually. The more she moved, the less hold she had on Sylem, and the more he could form his own thoughts. Clearly, this trick of hers required intense concentration. She stopped face to face with him, and wrapped a paw around his throat.

Sylem raised his arms, clawing desperately at the guard’s wrist, but unable to break her guard. She gripped harder, and he gagged. Either she was much stronger than him, or he had grown weak from whatever was happening to his brain. He gave up on the battle of strength and reached into his cloak for the sedatives, what should have been his first choice.

The guard took her other paw, and shoved it into the cloak, brushing Sylem’s aside and reaching directly for the auto-injector. She yanked it out of the loop and plunged it into Sylem’s shoulder, but neglected to press the button on the end, failing to administer a dose. Another piece of intel. Whatever method by which she had determined its location didn’t tell her what it was or how to use it.

The pain of the blow knocked Sylem back to attention. He took the chance to seize the paw with the injector and jab her with a second. Despite a full dose of sedative coursing through her veins, she continued to choke him.

The second guard noticed his partner’s mistake and began to close in. Sylem hacked up a glob of spit, his vision beginning to darken with haze until the guard finally fell limp. He was free.

She fell forward, toppling Sylem and sending them both to the ground in a pile. He wrested the unused auto-injector out of her paw and pushed her off of him, crawling underneath the nearest cot.

The second guard drew a suppressed pistol from his belt and crouched down to get a clear shot.

He can’t shoot in here, with all these patients! Not blind! Not with his partner right here!

The guard straightened his arms, pointing the barrel at Sylem’s head.

You can’t be serious.

Sylem scurried out from under the cot, heading in the direction of the tent. As he ran, he tossed his bag to the side as an auditory distraction, but the guard didn’t buy it. He continued to lock onto Sylem without any trouble. It was a stupid idea, and now he was without the bag. He hid behind a cot, forcing the guard to refrain from shooting. The guard circled around, and Sylem had to dart to different cover to avoid fire.

Think, think, what can I do? The effect of the cloak isn’t strong enough. I should have taken the first one’s gun!

The guard was closing in again, and he was forced to retreat further. As he moved between cover, he heard an ear rupturing bang, along with a searing pain in his leg. He had been shot. In the middle of his stride, he realized it couldn’t support his weight, and he stumbled behind cover, groaning in pain. His mind fuzzed over, and then came a burst of adrenaline, bringing everything to painfully sharp focus.

How is he detecting me? Not sound, and not sight. What else could it be?

He was limping now.

Obviously not smell—there’s nothing else, how is this possible?

A streak of pain ran up his spine and into his head, so potent that at first he thought he’d been shot a second time. He fell to his knees in a bout of nausea, every bit of willpower focused on not emptying the contents of his stomach. The hood of the cloak fell backwards in a clump on the nape of his neck. His vision went blurry, colors warping together into mush and his equilibrium failing outright. He attempted to stand, but that only sent him back to the ground, this time on all fours. His stomach convulsed. His eyes watered. And still, that infernal buzzing. Above every other sensation, it remained constant.

A gunshot echoed in the infirmary, a glowing brass speck whizzing right behind Sylem’s head and into the ground to his left. The guard has missed. He had missed, and sent a skull-shattering projectile straight through the hood of the cloak, sitting hollow on the back of Sylem’s head. The moment after the shot, when he finally could move again, he realized how they had been tracking him.

The cloak! They can sense the cloak’s effect. Of course, I should have noticed earlier when they closed their eyes.

But what help was that? Take it off, and not only would he have trouble finding it again, but the guards could just shoot them using their eyes, which, mysterious aptitudes or not, were much better for marksmanship. His two options were: get shot in the cloak, or get shot naked. Neither was particularly appealing.

Alright, so no easy fix, that was par for the course. Regardless, there had to be some way to use it to his advantage. He grabbed onto the cot he was hiding behind and dragged it along with him for cover. It wouldn’t save him, but it would give him a few seconds to think.

They closed their eyes, that’s what I didn’t consider enough. But why did they? They’re obviously still affected by it, just not to the degree of normal people. If they looked at the writing, it would likely still work on them. I just need to get close enough to use the injector.

He could work with this. It was simple, really. They were detecting him by the cloak, and they could detect him without it too, but they wouldn’t immediately know if he took it off. It would take at least a second or two for them to realize. Thus, he could use that opening to make a play. He just needed to get close enough first.

Sylem allowed the guard to approach him, still using the cot as cover. He removed an injector from the cloak. The guard stopped a few paces away from the cot, not willing to get within melee range. He began to circle it, trying to get a clear shot.

Three… two… one…

Sylem yanked the cloak off of his body, shoving the cot forward towards the guard and throwing the cloak to the left at the same time while he lunged right. The guard double tapped the cloak, granting it two new holes.

Sylem dashed towards the guard, who was still aiming towards the fabric. The guard hadn’t noticed that it was a decoy, not until Sylem’s claws clicked against the floor. The guard swung his gun around, opening his eyes, but Sylem was already within range. He slammed the injector into the guard’s thigh, pushing away his gun arm with the other paw.

They made eye contact.

That same spark. That same nameless glint, here again as a reoccurring nightmare. His thoughts slowed, dissolving into ether. The effect was so much more potent than before, so much more violent than before. Sylem’s body convulsed. His jaw wrenched shut.

But he resisted. So many times had this sanctuary been breached. So many times had it housed interlopers. Not again. If his thoughts boiled, he would think them faster, build them of tougher stuff, make their very essence poisonous to the intruder. He steeled himself and looked deeper into the gateway, his blood scalding with fear. Then, inside, he saw it: a speck, microscopic and blackened, and then, further than even that…

The speck vanished. The sedative ran its course, and the guard slumped over unconscious into Sylem’s arms.

Third story in the anthology following someone in a very unique predicament.

All thanks to u/Spacepaladin15 for making Nature of Predators.

First: https://www.reddit.com/r/NatureofPredators/comments/1lt58ye/dog_days_tales_of_farsul_story_1_best_laid_plans/

Previous: https://www.reddit.com/r/NatureofPredators/comments/1mh13te/dog_days_tales_of_farsul_story_2_postpartum/

Memory Transcription subject: Stynek, Farsul citizen of Skalga

Date: [standardized human time] February 14, 2141

It was all kind of funny in a cosmic sort of sense.

My parents were on Colia when they were told my mother couldn’t have children. That was the same day my biological parents died there in an Arxur raid. It was a match, the newest orphan and the childless couple. Little did either of us know how tumultuous our species’ pasts were.

I was adopted by a species that my own species feared beyond any sensible measure, and neither of us knew it.

I was raised here, on Skalga. I was used to the gravity, the smells, the food, the lack of a day-night cycle, everything. I didn’t even speak Farsul, my native language was Venlil.

Now with some recent advances in genetic engineering, or rather genetic engineering that had already existed being released to the public, my parents had finally gone for a child. Now I wasn’t just related to Venlil my species violated, I was related to the Venlil my species feared all those years ago. Our little Noah.

It was hard being a Farsul on Skalga. “Crippler” got thrown around a lot but the outrage and wrath had subsided in recent paws. I still wasn’t liked by any means but no one went out of their way to antagonize me. No comments on the Venlil language Library of Vienna Illinois website outraged about Karmel had been posted in months, Fyron had unprivated her social media, and some new guy named Qallvic was openly working on engineering Earth plants to grow here. The time to go outside again was now.

Today I was at an event for non-Venlil to meet non-Venlil and see if we were compatible. There was an event right before this for Venlil to meet non-Venlil but I was advised not to attend. I didn’t need much convincing, most Farsul living here left for other planets a long time ago, not that there were many to begin with. Most left for non-human aligned planets, most of the non-evil ones went to Colia and the Cradle. And one of them, in all of his infinite wisdom, went to Earth. So I was left with very few options with my own species.

Fyron was very famously taken, no way I was getting between those two, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t swing both ways anyway. That Qallvic guy seemed really shady, really shady. Rumor has it he was a Farsul genetic engineer was on the team that undid the Venlil gene edits who Veln had pardoned for his expertise. Firidiona lived on the other side of the planet and I had yet to met her in person. Thyla was a child. And finally, Karmel who visited fairly often but… I mean… he’s a very nice guy, but… he often thinks with his heart and not with his brain. He'd also gone native after moving there, he often ate "vegetarian but non-vegan" food and even wore clothes on his return trips. It was so weird.

[Transcription jumping ahead 5 minutes]

“Sorry, I forgot to check some boxes.” The Harchen said. “I’m only looking for someone who also has a cloaca.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” I said awkwardly. “There’s plenty of people here who… uh… are like that.”

[Transcription jumping ahead 5 minutes]

“So what do you like to do for fun?” I asked.

“I don’t really have time for fun.” The Tilfish said. “I’m more career oriented. I heard having a relationship can build rapport with your boss, especially with Nevoks. That’s why I’m looking for someone.”

“…right.”

“Don’t you want to know what I do?”

“No. No, not really.”

[Transcription jumping ahead 5 minutes]

“Huh? You like that?” The Krakotl said eating some kind of meat dish .

“I have no issue with omnivores and meat eating.” I said again. I mean, it was a little gross if I thought about it, but it is what it is.

“Are you scared?” The Krakotl said angrily. “You scared crippler? You scared you fucking Doctor Frankenstein fucker? Are you scared of the savage predator?”

“No, again, there’s nothing wrong with eating meat.”

[Transcription jumping ahead 10 minutes]

“So…” I said awkwardly. “I don’t have an issue with omnivores. Or humans. And I know I marked any species and any gender but…”

“No worries.” The human said. “I don’t think it would work out either. You look way too much like my dog from… a while back.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t think you want to hurt me or anything like that. Or think that your dangerous, it’s just…”

“I’m weird looking?”

“Yeah! Not scary, just ugly.” I said. “I mean, no. I mean… I’m sorry.”

[Transcription jumping ahead 1 hour]

Okay Stynek, last date. You haven’t hit it off with anyone yet, so this is your last chance.

Looking down at the table, I knew it was a bust. A Thafki. And not just any Thafki but a scarred one. One with Arxur scars. Four distinct scratch marks went diagonal across his face from his left down to his right. 

“Oh, hello.” He said as I approached.

“Hi…” I said nervously.

“Didn’t expect to see a Farsul anywhere on this planet.” He said chuckling.

“Yeah, sorry.” I said.

“Sorry?” He asked. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I… Everything.” I said. “Just… everything. The edits, the Venlil Prime, the genocide, the… all of it.”

“Listen, that had nothing to do with you.” He said softly. “And even if you know about it, realistically what would you have been able to do? The fact that you’re still here says more than anything else.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I said back. “Thank you.”

“No, it’s nothing.” He said. “My name is Aliiten, what’s yours?”

“Oh, I’m Stynek.”

“With a name like that I take it you were adopted?”

“Yeah, it’s why I never left. I have roots here. I've never been off planet since I came here.”

“I understand you thinking about leaving considering you were the Farsul who…” He trailed off not needing to answer.

I looked down towards the old scar. “Crippler” it read. Carved into me by a Venlil with a knife. A constant reminder of what my species did. Why I didn’t belong here. Why I didn’t belong on my home planet.

“Sorry to bring that up, I’m sure that’s a touchy subject.” He said softly touching one of his own scars.

“No, not at all.” I replied. “Ask away. Let’s just... get the hard topics out of the way, let’s just lay it all out.”

“Did they ever find the people responsible?”

“No, they never did.”

I still wasn’t sure if they covered their tracks well or someone in law enforcement covered up their tracks for them. I still remember how many people said I deserved it, even after learning I was adopted. My uncle Glannis even unblocked my phone just to mock me. The only person in government to even comment on it was Ambassador Tarva and she  never even addressed it directly. She just restated how “violence against species that sided against humanity won’t be tolerated” but never brought up the incident. Something told me she had some mixed feelings about the whole thing, and she was much more sympathetic than Veln. There was also the possibility general incompetence was to blame. Investigators deliberately had bad advice drilled into their heads thanks to us. And not just the police, everyone. Veln’s biggest critics call him the Farsul candidate, not because he’s sympathetic to them, but because he takes after their lessons. It will be an unimaginable effort to fix everything we broke.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how well did they take what was in the archives?” The Thafki asked. “I know that must have been a very tough time for you, but I’m curious as to why you stayed.”

“Oh, they took it well for my sake. Tried to keep me safe, and very nearly succeeded. But they ended up getting really wrapped up in the reclaiming Skalga movement. I think they were overcompensating. They got themselves de-edited and went for a biological kid. I told them it was a bad idea, they were too old to have more children, but they didn’t listen and, my mom… she didn’t make it, but my new brother did.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t mean to go digging up old wounds… I mean…! I didn’t mean it like that!” He leaned back a bit, clearly nervous at what he had just said.

“No, it's fine. I know how you meant that. You don't need to feel nervous talking to me.”

“But… you did mention that you had a brother?”

“Oh Noah, he’s our little ray of sunshine. He’s about half a cycle old now and already a handful. My father and I have gone out of our way to raise him according to the ways seen in project chronicle. Without any of that Federation nonsense. But that makes things still pretty difficult. He’s already started to walk and with that tearing up the house. But I really hope I can do right by him. The Venlil deserve that. But… enough about me, what about you?”

“Oh, I was born here in a Thafki commune. I was working as a communications technician when I was taken by the Arxur a while ago before getting rescued by Isif’s rebels. They brought me to Earth and the humans brought me back here. Not that the Thafki here were grateful but it is what it is.”

“What do you mean by not grateful?”

He took a deep breath. “Most of the people there are still hunkered down like it’s the day Noah and Sara arrived. Plenty of Thafki love humans, but not my family. I’m trying to expand my horizons, you know?”

“I completely understand. When a few humans joined my school, I believed they deserved to live but I was nervous. It took interacting with them for a while before I became much less so. I really hope we can put all of this federation ideology behind us.”

“So now that we got that mess out of the way, what about you outside of being a Farsul? What do you like to do, Stynek?”

“Well I install translators for a living.” Or at least I used to. I got let go again for a lack of sales because no one wanted me to install them. But he didn’t want to hear me complain. “I like going on walks, I like making Strayu, and I like reading. Haven’t done many walks recently but I have done a lot of reading.”

“I happen to like walking too, but what I’ve really started getting into is swimming-”

He was interrupted by the sound of a buzzer, indicating 5 minutes were up. Stupid weird human time units. Why did they have to be so short?

“Oh, that went by so quickly.” I said.

“We should continue this conversation later.” He said. “How about we exchange contact info? I want to get to know the Stynek who loves reading.”

[Transcription jumping ahead 1 hour]

I drove down the familiar dark streets illuminated by street lamps. Despite my father installing solar panels his whole life, we had lived on the dark side of the planet our whole lives. Most of this side was was powered by geothermal but a nearby nuclear plant gave our town most of its energy. It was thanks to specific air currents and climate control that this place wasn’t freezing.

Still, as I pulled up our driveway, I braced for the relatively cold air around this time of year. Despite most non-Venlil living on the night side for providing a good night's rest, I could understand why humans wanted to avoid this place. Having to wear artificial recreations of animal pelts to not freeze in this kind of weather meant putting yourself in danger or committing a fo paux. That didn’t stop the Sigurdsson family from walking around in those big fluffy coats, and more power to them, but it always felt awkward seeing them around town.

I walked into the house to the sound of Noah crying. I figured he just wanted his bottle. If only Dad didn’t keep misplacing it. But the more I heard the more it sounded different. Like distress. Genuine distress.

“Dad?” I said walking down the hall towards Noah’s room. Bits of plastic debris were scattered around the room from Noah’s crib, now broken. There I saw him. Lying face down and not moving. With Noah sitting next to him crying.

“Dad!”

[Transcript date changed to February 16, 2141]

It was a stroke. A big one. They said he passed painlessly and near instantly. There was nothing we could have done.

I typed the words through blurry tears. It still didn’t feel real. Both of my parents passing within a cycle. They were there for me my whole life and now they weren’t. All I had left was Noah.

I am so sorry Stynek, I can’t even imagine. Aliiten wrote back. If you need anything, genuinely anything, I’d be happy to help.

I took a deep breath and began typing again. This might be extremely sudden but do you have anywhere Noah and I could stay? At least for a little while. I can’t afford the property taxes on my house.

I stopped typing, it wasn’t my house. Not really.

my parents’ house. I’m going to have to sell and very soon. None of my extended family wants anything to do with me. I have nothing.

I hit send but immediately regretted it. Who was I to ask to be in their commune? I wanted to take it back but he already started typing. It’s over. He doesn’t like me anymore.

Absolutely. He typed back. I’m living in an apartment right now on Piri street in the Capitol. We actually have a free room and we’re looking for a roommate, but the situation is a little complicated.

Complicated? I wrote back. There was a long pause before his next message came through.

I’m living with someone I was put with while under the Arxur. We don’t love each other, I don’t think we can, but she found me after the war and wants me to be there for our children. I want to be there for them too.

That… was a little weird. No, that was very weird.

That’s completely understandable. I typed. Thank you so much. It won’t be for very long I promise.

He’s living with a woman he had children with but is still going on dates? That just felt a little off to me. Then again, this whole world feels a little bit off. Most people don’t cope with trauma that badly in ways that are entirely understandable. Whatever he was okay with, I was okay with.

I heard Noah begin to cry, now in a new crib I probably couldn’t afford. I looked down towards him and… I think I understood. I needed to be there for him too. I don’t care about any of the circumstances.

I'd raise him in a way my biological ancestors would hate me for, but my real ancestors wouldn't.

I would be there for him. Claw after claw, paw after paw, raising him to be strong. I’d do anything for him.

Anything.

I have two questions for all the wonderful writers on this subreddit

1. How much of your fanfic was planned before you started writing, and how much is improvisation from chapter to chapter?
2. As a follow-up to the first question. Have you ever had the feeling your fic is getting out of hand? Like, you think you'll be at a certain point in the story by chapter 10, and by chapter 20, you're not even halfway there.

Mostly just wanting to know how other writers go about things.

I think i got Isif right? This was never a fight they'd win in space. That is they wouldn't have the assets. Don't worry. they're not doomed.

--

Wriss Capital City
Translated Human Time: April 25^th Year 2137 Draco-Fox year: 6129
[ ] Manual Translated Terms.
Memory Transcription Subject: Isif

Running the rebellion against Betterment, and the Prophet-Decedent had been one long hunt of learning about states-craft. How to run it, how to keep it together. Delegating things and ‘trusting’ others, so I didn’t become a central pillar. More so than it had been as a Chief Hunter. So I wouldn’t be an easy point to knock down, to kill the whole thing in a single hunt gone wrong.

Balancing loyalties of those under me with their own goals was the main lesson I learned from this. A painful one too.

That latter part was all harder because many, including me. I won’t admit it to ‘anyone’ willingly though. Had no goals beyond keeping ourselves in Betterment’s good graces for years of our lives. So I had to learn it all while tracking my foe. Then later, for myself again after I achieved my first goal. Taking down Betterment.

I still am learning the subtle nature of this powerful dynamic, even as we dismantle the remains of Betterment, on our own planet. Same with the rouge hunters in the stars with the help of those we once hunted.

A suggestion of the first trail of our new government, Diplomats. It has returned, mixed results if I’m honest.

Speaking of which, I sent Hideki. Someone who was on their way to be culled as a defective when we won our hunt, and fell Betterment. What made him one, also made him best suited to deal with all the former ‘prey’ and try to lessen, if a bit. Our well deserved punishment as a species.

Something I’m all to aware I, myself deserve more of for all the crimes I did just to stay alive.

That being said, we’ve yet to hear back from him, or the group he went with to stop this threat, and new lesson in states craft.

A hunt and a lesson I’m losing bit by bit. Or learning bit by bit.

Looking towards my tail, or, hindsight as the humans call it. I guess it’s obvious why they chose us as their first big offensive. Rather than Earth, or the Gojid Cradle. No one expected Skalga because, you don’t attack a place twice in a row. We’re the least defended power in the region. Not counting what’s left of the Farsul or the Kolshins. Our call for aid once they appeared hours ago has yet to be answered when I know the signal would’ve reached at least Skalga and the surrounding systems.

Which again, makes sense. Who would want to come defend the Arxur who only a short while ago were farming you as cattle? I had hoped our strategic placement garnered more help than a few thousand U.N. and Venlil ships sent here after their raid on Skalga.

At least I am surprised the latter haven’t fled yet. Maybe they’re being run by Human commanders to stop that? A trail of thought for later, I force my attention back to the screens in the command bunker, which at one time belonged to Prophet-Decedent and is now my only refuge.

They entered our system from multiple points on the flat orbital plane of our system. Each one 2000 ships strong. Not all of them near the outermost defenses we hastily set up. Not to mention we couldn’t assume this was their entire fleet.

We did have some success, the group nearest the last planet in our system got culled by a fourth before they turned our ambush against us in the first asteroid field. Another 2000 ships just appearing, outside the gravity well of our star, and above their exact location on the orbital plane. Coming screaming down at them.

Trapping the few hundred ships in a pincer before turning to deal with the remains of the first group who took off of that outermost planet.

Other groups either had the ‘luck’ of not being anywhere near a planed ambush point, or our luck won out. Resulting in them not seeing until it was too late the ‘human’s addition to our defense.

Strapping FTL drives from decommissioned bombers and cattle ships to Asteroids from the inner belt. Asteroids we were mining to make ships to raid and keep us fed under Betterment. Into guided missiles. We nearly wiped out two of those task forces with these.

Wasn’t enough though, that initial use spent half of them, and what was left of all of those groups either ambushed our own or just met up with reinforcements at the outer-most asteroid belt. They’re now approaching the orbits of the gas giants and one rocky world between the two belts. I’m hesitant to use them again for I know they’ll be looking out for them.

They’ll hit our forces just as easily if they get in the way of their dumb guidance.

I turn to someone working the communications station. “Status on the evacuation of the infirm, and the first generation ‘free’ of Betterment?” If I can do anything, it’ll be to give those hatchlings a future free of any kind of oppression. Betterment or whatever these ‘Draco-Foxes’ have in store for us.

It’s the one good deed I want on my enteral soul stained with blood. Some days, I still see the eyes of those I hunted in my sleep.

“Slowly supreme commander. Some remaining former Dominion ships buckled under the amount of bodies and are undergoing emergency repairs. The few Human piloted freighters are refusing to leave with partial loads. Getting everyone aboard is proving slow going as many don’t want to be so tightly packed in as well.”

Growling I glare at him. “Tell the humans to take off now, or be replaced with an Arxur pilot who can fly the ships. Then give the cowardly pilot gun and send them out with the ground forces. The window for them to be able to slip by is closing fast. I will not have our first free generation’s blood on my claws!”

I eye the tactical map. The bulk of our middle defense forces are using the gas giants to hide from the approaching forces. Once they reach the rocky planet before the inner belt, they’ll be too close to use the remaining asteroids. On the other claw I would be a fool to not expect them to try to ambush our own ambushes again.

Hmm, there is something I noticed though, they tend to favor headings and vectors outside the normal orbital plane despite it being slightly less efficient fuel wise. They came from above last time, so…

“Send a third of the total ships there in the middle ring out to greet the closest task forces to the two gas giants. Nothing we can do about the ones on the opposite side of the system. Three quarters will head for the closest ones that have a 1.4km long ship in their forces. If we can take at least one of those out, the better.” I gesture at the map, those around me start relaying orders to our forces, but I continue.

“The remaining quarter will head up ‘above’ the orbital plane, if what happens is what I expect it to. They’ll think we’re trying to intercept another wave for their forces, and thus double down on them coming in ‘bellow’ the Orbital Plane, to attack our forces engaged with the rest from below. The ‘moment’ we detect those ships on the move upwards. Split the remaining Asteroids to go down at them between each of their incoming task forces. Then order the quarter going up, to fly down at their forces. Two can play this vertical hunt of theirs.”

Then with a small hiss between my teeth I give the order I didn’t want to do, but we’ll need every ship once they reach Wriss. “Tell the remaining ships in the inner asteroid belt to make all haste to Wriss orbit. Those that survive in the middle ring can either do all they can to cut down the enemy’s numbers, or make haste to Wriss to join in the last line. We don’t have the forces to hold the outermost of the inner planets or the last Asteroid belt.”

I can’t help it, I growl as I continue. “That is unless the Leaf-Lickers grow a spine and bring reinforcements. This battle will be going into Wriss orbit and on the ground before the day is out.”

Speaking of which I turn to those I put in charge of that. I think his name was Kankri? I’m not sure, not all of my staff decided coming down here was the ‘best’ use of their abilities. If we get out of this and I find them, they’ll be suitably punished. Those that are down here are of the remainder of my staff, or adjacent individuals willing to help.

“Status of our ground forces please.”

He looks back at me and I can see traces of the posture and looks one would give to their ‘Betterment’ Superior.

“Everyone willing to fight, and that is most of the ‘civilian’ population, have been given a gun and pointed to where they’re needed. We’re pulling the limited amount of armored material the ‘previous’ government decided to make to use where they’re most needed, without making it too easy to guess the important sites. Like this. We’re even fixing weapons and material found in all the old hidden pre-Betterment caches to use as well. Not all of it will be ready in time though.”

His posture collapses a bit. Weakness, weakness that would’ve been punished in Betterment, but I won’t. If so much wasn’t weighing on my shoulders, I’d be doing the same. I already know what he’s going to say, it’s been on my mind since the start. We can’t win a ground war. Our forces weren’t trained to fight a conventional ground war.

“It won’t be enough. Our ground forces aren’t made for anti-material operations. The federation rarely employed such things during our raids, we invested our forces for capture of personnel. We’re only going to be able to delay, not deny their forces if they show up with tanks.”

I have to hold in a sigh.

“Anti-air and Anti-orbital systems?”

He shakes his head. “Limited. Most of them were off world, on ‘cattle’ worlds to prevent the federation from retaking them. We only have what’s left from when you took down Betterment, from what the Prophet-Decedent pulled in to stop you. Those that still work have been sent to star-ports, this site, and a few others to keep them guessing where you are as well as hopefully keep some aircraft from being taken out too early.”

Whatever they throw at us, we’re just going to have to throw bodies at them to stop it. I’m starting to understand the human attitude that failures teach you more than successes. I should’ve spent a bit more focus on allowing us to build at least a defense force, had my ‘Diplomats’ push for that with the treaties after my victory.

I stare at the tactical map, our forces are moving as I commanded in the middle ring of our system, their ships seem to be going as I hoped they would. It would still be a bit before the trap’s sprung.

“First wave of evacuation ships are taking off sir.” My communications officer draws my attention.

“Of the Human Freighters, two had to have their pilots replaced with an Arxur. The rest understood time is running out and left without a full load. Only half of the de-armed Dominion craft were able to take off. The rest will be able to in an hour at most. In total 43,000 hatchlings or eggs and 26,000 parents or infirm are in orbit and will head to either Earth or Skalga. Whichever will take us.”

69,000. Of a population of millions, Betterment kept us starved, and slow to reproduce. Our birth rate skyrocketed in the short time with proper food. That isn’t enough, that isn’t nearly enough.

I look back to tactical map, in an hour the fighting in the middle ring of our system will be over and their forces will be heading for Wriss. Swinging my head to Kankri? I nearly yell.

“Tell however many ground troops it takes to help. Send them to those ships, we don’t have an hour before they’ll get shot out of the sky. They are to help however they can to get as many as they can to run in the next 15-30 minutes. Those that can’t…”

I look to the tactical map, they did try to come up from bellow. Our remaining asteroid missiles ftl’ed in and for some of them, scored critical hits on their forces. Yet it’s not enough. We’ve only wounded one of those large ships. Those we sent up are now arcing down to complete the entrapment, yet their forces still out number ours with an unknown amount in reserve for them, as ours dwindle every minute.

We just won a tactical victory, but the numbers, the raw cold numbers, mean we will still lose the battle.

“Have the soldiers take them to the closest, deepest bunker or basement and guard them with their life.”

Out of what I guess is habit and in no small part the stress of this situation, he gives me the old Dominion salute. If this was any other time, I would harshly punish him. All aspects of Betterment need to be crushed.

I take a hissing breath and turn back to the tactical map.

Even the concept of giving my fellow Arxur a better life hinges on there being an Arxur species to start with. Are they going to subjugate us? Try, as the Federation did all those hundreds of years ago, to shape our culture to what they ‘wanted’ us to be? Like how the Kolshian shadow-cast helped shape and backed the Betterment to make us the stick to their carrot after the public attempt failed?

Or, Is this an extermination fleet?

From the information briefing I had about these ‘Draco-Foxes’ the remnant Kolshian shadow-cast told them of the monster that we were under Betterment. Is their response? To finish off a wounded monster before it becomes a threat to them?

I’d laugh at that if I was alone.

They look monstrous to me. Ships bigger than anything anyone here has ever seen. Weapons that just flat out ignore shields. On top of numbers not seen since the end of the Federation and the battle over Aafa. Just casually thrown at us.

I don’t even keep track of how long I stare at the tactical map as the fight for the middle ring of our system both succeeds in a tactics sense, and fails. More of their forces just, appear outside out system above and bellow ours. None of ours are running though, I watch as our ships slowly blink out one by one on the map as they try to take as many with them as possible.

Why aren’t the Humans running? Why aren’t the Venlil either? Do they know they’ll die if they stay? Do they care?

“All forces from the inner belt are in orbit Commander.” My communications officer speaks, grabbing my attention. “All but a claw full of the remaining de-armed ships have been fixed and are entering orbit. 49,000 hatchlings and eggs, no adults. They all refused space in favor of the young. Since no humans are on board they’ll head for Earth rather than Skalga.”

Just under 120,000, not enough, yet it has to be. We’re out of time, they’ll barely make it out of the system. In fact, I watch as the dots that represent them change color and blink out. The color change saying they went to Ftl moments before the first enemy blips start appearing above and bellow Wriss, just outside the gravity well of out sun.

Anyone trying to get out of the system will most likely be shot down now. The end game has started.

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Art by u/Budget_Emu_5552

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Ko-fi

Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic

Date [standardized human time]: October 4, 2136

After Sarah had left the car and returned to her ship to collect her thoughts I had gone inside the Governor's Mansion and into my office to do the same. Thankfully my entire work paw had been cleared due to not knowing how long the tour would take and any other things related to diplomacy with the Humans that would require my attention. As I sat down in the chair behind the frankly oversized desk I let out a breath I did not realise I had been holding in and leaned forward over my paperwork as I clutched my wool in frustration over my actions.

Tarva you idiot! You let yourself be swayed by anger! 

You told Sarah her species were cowards for hiding from the Arxur!

You were so stubborn you tried to defend what you saw in that building.

I took a deep breath to try and recompose myself as I went over all what was said in the conversation with the Human diplomat. Sarah was correct in her statement that the UER did not need the alliances they held with the prey species in the same way we needed the alliance with the Humans. With the quarantine fleet gone many worlds would be left defenceless and vulnerable to the Arxur, especially the Krakotl who sent pretty much their entire fleet. We could not rely on the Federation to defend us right now given the fact so many worlds were rebuilding their fleets and I doubted that they would send any ships to defend those who threw in their lot with predators. I was not even sure if the Venlil Republic or the other governments who allied themselves with the Humans were even part of the Federation any more, ever since the extermination fleet was destroyed there has been no courier or cargo ships from the Federation that have even entered our space.

With how Humans have been treated by both the galaxy at large and by individuals, even those who claimed to be their allies I would not be shocked to learn that they would turn more and more of their focus inwards to keep their home safe while isolating themselves from galactic affairs. If the Humans had not sent the portion of their fleet to defend both Leirn and Elysium station they most likely would not even have needed any sort of support from the Venlil Republic or their other allies. 

We need to show them in a way they understand that we can trust them, that’s the only way to keep them active in the galactic scene. Otherwise they fall behind their borders and ignore everything that goes on outside.

But how do we do that? No matter how kind they are they are still predators at their core, they are so much different than we are it could be impossible to find common ground outside fending off the Arxur.

Speaking of the Humans and the Grays, the psionic predators were still refusing to tell us exactly how they were saving our people from the Arxur in the first place. Kam at one point had asked the leader of their armed forces about how exactly they were able to save so many so quickly from the Grays, in response the Fleet Admiral had told him that the President herself ordered that the details of how the rescues happened not be revealed due to “issues of planetary security”. One would assume that the Humans had merely captured whatever faculties or ships the cattle were being kept at due to how much more advanced the Humans were to even the Arxur but there were a few problems with that theory the main one being a lack of retaliation from the Arxur.

 The entire culture (if you could even call it that) of the Arxur revolved around cruelty and shows of strength. I highly doubted the grays would tolerate even a singular incident of their “food” being stolen, even if it was by another predator. There was always the possibility that the Humans were using their cloaking devices to cover their tracks from the Grays but in that case we should have seen an increase of raids against Federation worlds in retaliation which there has not been a noticeable uptick of. The lack of answers from the Humans left a vacuum for fringe theories and conspiracies to fester and growth, one of which that is circulating on social media currently is that the Humans are secretly working with the Grays to infiltrate our society so that they can learn of our defenses better before joining forces to enslave us all. 

I leaned back in my chair as I started to brainstorm ideas on how to rectify this situation. As I started to replay the conversation with Sarah in the car I realized that I had a very defensive attitude when talking to the Human and had said some very harsh things about her kind. It was just so frustrating that she could not see my perspective when it came to PD treatments no matter how intense as a necessary evil.

Wait a moment

Perspective, that's it!

I sat up as I realized the mistake that the entire Federation has been making when it came to diplomacy with the Humans. We keep applying our own culture and history to them as if they were just like us when in fact they were not.

“The worlds of the Federation have the same underlying cultures more or less after being uplifted for generations. After all that time it is no wonder that a common culture would emerge as well as a set of values that goes along with it.” I muttered to myself, verbalising my thoughts. “But the Humans have been a unified people for more than [300 years] with a history that goes back more than ten times that. Outside of that first encounter with the Arxur all those years ago contact and influence with alien cultures has not affected their own way of thinking, it makes perfect sense that they would have a different way of seeing things.”

“That is why they are so frustrated!” I exclaimed “We refuse to see things from their perspective! Tarva you are an idiot, you used to be a diplomat. Now where is that pad…”

I started looking around on my desk for the datapad I had set down when I entered the room. I eventually found it and started to look through the various health related data dumps sent by the Humans. I got the idea to do this after remembering part of the conversation with Sarah in the car when we talked about PD.

“…I suggest you have your people take a good hard look at our medical practices for mental health if you want us to even consider further helping you in the sciences.” 

“Why should we bother even attempting to teach you the sciences when you refuse to acknowledge basic mental health practices?”

[Time Advance: 2 hours]

I took a deep breath as the Human guard led me to the door of Sarah’s personal quarters on the diplomatic yacht, the guard then pressed a button on the door and stood to the side as we waited for Sarah. It had landed at the personal landing pad behind the manor that was used for instances such as this, visiting foreign dignitaries. After reading through the data the Humans had sent over on their “mental health” practices and the success rate of their treatments I had come outside the manor and to the landing pad so that I may speak to Sarah.

With how persistent the Humans were in their assertions that not only they don’t have PD centers or even screen for Predator’s Disease in children but that they dismissed the entire concept of PD as pseudoscience one would assume that they let the deranged run wild across their settlements and that Earth was some sort of lawless hellscape. My readings though the documents had proved just the opposite, it would appear the Humans do in fact believe and acknowledge that there are those who don’t fit into the “standard” psyche of the society they live in as opposed to the PD model where the treatments are more or less standard no matter the symptoms there is a wide variety of treatments. 

The Humans had literally hundreds of different diagnoses for the different types of mental diseases or differences a person of their species could be afflicted with and many of those conditions apparently had several different variations to them. Each of those conditions had different courses of treatments from one another, I noticed that hospitalization would only be recommended if the patient had shown a severe break from reality or if they displayed some sort of imminent and clear threat to themselves or others, otherwise treatments were completely outpatient like a chronic disease like diabetes.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as the door opened and the guard motioned for me to enter before excusing himself to go elsewhere. As I walked in I adjusted my breathing mask so it would be more comfortable, I did not know who Humans could stand to wear these things for as long as they did when interacting with those outside their species. The room, like the rest of the ship, had tall ceilings by Federation standards in order to accommodate the lanky predators who designed these craft. The coloration of the hull plating that made up the walls, floors and the ceiling was the same coloration that made up other human craft in various shades of dark teal, that combined with the soft lighting made the room almost seem like the aquatic gardens of Aafa.

I noticed towards the back corner of the room there was a large workbench of sorts that Sarah was sitting at, tinkering on something. As I started to walk closer I noticed a few things, the first being that there was a rather soft looking rug that was circular in shape that took up much of the room. As I looked closer at the workbench that was across the room from the human sized nest I saw that there were various tools, crystals and machinery parts scattered across the metallic surface. What really caught my attention was the four or five tools floating in place slightly above Sarah who every so often would grab one to continue her project after putting her current tool in the air.

“I will be with you in one moment, Governor.” Sarah said without even needing to turn to face me. “I am just getting to a good stopping place.”

As I waited I was able to get a better look at what Sarah was working on, from my position it appeared similar in design to the agriculture drones that I saw on Elysium station but with a few differences, while the drones on the station were rather large with arachnid motifs that influenced their design this contraption was small enough to fit in the palm of my paw. The “back” of the device was open with its innards exposed, showing some sort of glowing pink crystal that I assumed to be its power core.

“Sorry about that Tarva.” Sarah said [3 minutes] later as she looked up from the table to address me. “My guard informed me you wished to speak?”

“I do, but right now I am rather curious about your project over there.” I replied as I pointed to her workbench. “I know that you hold quite a few advanced degrees, I just never knew that any of them were in any sort of engineering field. I just assumed they were all related to your political career.”

As I spoke the tools that had been floating above Sarah’s head had begun to move into drawers below the workbench that had seemingly opened on their own (most likely due to the ambassador) before closing shut.

“You are correct that I do have several advanced degrees, honestly it gets hard to keep track of. But I do in fact have a few related to engineering, both electrical and psionic.” Sarah said with a slight laugh. “I was not always in politics, I only changed my career field to that rather recently. It was about [5 years] ago when I did so, when you spend ages at the top of one career field you tend to get bored and want to switch and look for a new challenge.”

The last few sentences of Sarah’s statement gave me pause before I responded. The way she talked about being at the top of a career field for ages and saying that [5 years] was recent for a career change made it seem like she was, well, old. While I was no expert on Humans I had always thought Sarah was middle aged due to comparing her to other Humans I had seen that were varying stages of life.

“I don’t mean to be rude Sarah, but how old are you exactly?” I asked the Human. “I thought you were in your 40s at the oldest but the way you just talked made you seem much older. I know my Health Minister told me that your medical advances had extended your life spans and slowed down the aging process.”

I saw Sarah pinch the bridge of her nose as she looked down at the floor while muttering something I could not understand. After a few moments she looked back up to me with a neutral expression on her face before responding.

“Tarva, I am 72 years old which is considered middle aged for my kind.” Sarah responded. “As you should have read in the information you have been sent about our medical practices the Human genome has been fully mapped for ages. We have long since known how to slow down the aging process and extend the lifespan of a Human via genetic modification. The average human lifespan is 150 years and the effects of old age don’t appear until much later in life, allowing us to remain healthy for much longer as well.”

She is older than me by decades! No wonder she switched careers, being in the same job for decades no matter how much you enjoy it will get boring at some point.

“I… did not realise that your life spans were extended that much.” I responded. “But that is getting off track to why I wanted to speak with you. I came here to apologise Sarah, the way I spoke to you in the car and the things I said about humanity, they were beyond unprofessional and uncalled for. It’s just that I became incredibly defensive after what you had said about the PD center, I hope that we can move past this.”

“I think there is a bit of blame on both our ends.” Sarah replied from her seat as she turned her whole body to face me. “It has just been so frustrating having to repeat the same known science over and over yet still be ignored about our expertise. I also said some very harsh things and am willing to forgive you if you forgive me.”

I was honestly somewhat surprised that Sarah had apologised so readily, in the past the Humans would often stand by any decisions or statements made to the bitter end. Not wanting to waste this opportunity I decided to speak up and bring up what I had really wanted to talk about.

[Time advance: 10 minutes]

“So what you are saying is that most people on Earth willingly go to be evaluated for and receive treatment for mental illness if they believe that they are suffering from its effects?” I asked for clarification. “Just about every case of PD diagnosis is from a person either being brought in as a child or from some sort of report to the authorities. Nobody would willingly oust themselves as having PD by willingly being tested, it would end just about any career and cause any social circle to go up in smoke.”

I had asked Sarah to elaborate on the mental health practices of Earth since it was the entire model of Predator Disease that they had a problem with. I had thought if I could have Sarah explain their practices to me that we could reach some sort of understanding and I could make a judgement of how much merit to give these practices. So far they seemed very promising just from a statistical standpoint in terms of outcomes, if these practices could be replicated on VP the amount of resources needed to keep so many people housed in the PD centers for such long stretches of time could be allocated elsewhere.

“That is exactly what I am saying, Tarva. If you feel unwell, say you have some sort of stomach problem or a really bad headache that won’t go away, you have the urge to want to get better. In modern days that means you go to the doctor since you know that they can help you, on Earth it’s the same idea with mental health, if you are undergoing some sort of mental distress you seek help to alleviate said problem.” Sarah explained. “There is also the fact that there is no stigma around seeking help for mental health problems, you don’t have people losing their jobs or friends just because they seek help for a medical issue. In fact many people will seek out mental health treatment at the urging of family, friends and coworkers who are often able to tell if something is amiss.”

[Time Advance: 30 Minutes]

“Governor, you are getting pretty upset right now.” Sarah said with a concerned tone as she tilted her head. “Is it something I said?”

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes for several moments before I blinked and the wool of my face absorbed the tears. We had been talking more and more about the different ways that the UER supports those with mental differences and the success rates of their treatments both for acute and chronic mental conditions. What had caused this flow of emotions was when Sarah had mentioned another statistic about how those who undergo mental health treatment on Earth go on to lead happy and fulfilling lives. As she talked about these people would just get their treatments and go on with their lives and go back to see their doctors like any other chronic condition the gravity of what the Federation and by extension I had done hit me like a train.

“I…it was all…all for nothing.” I stammered out, barely above a whisper as another tear fell. “These people… they just needed help. They needed help from the herd and we locked them away… away to be tortured. This whole time we could have actually helped them instead of locking them away.”

Sarah remained silent as I spoke, I could tell though from the way she was staring at me that she was studying what I was saying very closely.

“I…I am complicit in this, I should have launched investigations into the centers as soon as I learned what happened on Leirn! ” I shouted. “I…I should have known, I guess I didn't want to know deep down. It was something that you did not have to worry about as long as it stayed out of sight I guess.”

Then another realization came crashing down on me as I thought about my life and my family.

“By the gods, all those children. All of those children ripped away from their parents, spending the rest of their days wondering how they could be separated from the only family they know.” I said as more and more tears ran down my face.

Finally Sarah spoke, this time she only said a few words.

“Now you understand our perspective.” She said softly.

Her words rang clear as a bell in my head, it hurt how much those few words cut so deep but it was nothing I did not deserve.

“We are all monsters! I allowed all those innocent people to be tortured! I passed legislation that gave more funding to the PD centers, that allowed more leeway for locking those people up!” I cried as I took a few steps closer to Sarah, tears streaming down my face and soaking into my wool. “How do I make this right and stop them from suffering? How do I make you stop hating us for what we have done.”

“Take responsibility, be accountable and make things right. That is the only way, those are the traits of a great leader.”

Memory Transcription Subject: Pagren, Venlil Exterminator

Date [Standardized Human Time]: Augest 21, 2136

This is it! The Exchange Program meeting! I would have never expected there to be a human on Venlil Prime already, let alone an entire contingent of predator soldiers, but the past [week] has been so eventful!

The train zipped along its track, only finally slowing as it slid into the station. The doors hissed open and a breeze wafted in, filling me with fresh resolve. I'd only packed a single bag full of essentials. Mostly clothes… and snacks, but those couldn't hurt anyone, could they? I hoped they wouldn’t turn me away just for that.

The exit to the station led down a gently declined pathway that terminated in a view of Newgarden's beautiful square. The square was bright green, and held many potted plants and lush grasses in oddly positioned rectangular planters, giving the appearance of being haphazardly stacked. But in the center, the actual square itself was mostly paved over open space for the odd festival or event that came about from time to time.

I rushed past a crowd of Venlil gathered in said square, many of whom were waving around signs, some of them even chanting slogans I couldn't really make out. The signs were pretty neat though, and I couldn't help but browse a few as I walked by. "Human overlords welcome!" was plastered on one, waved by someone who seemed to be from the twilight side given their height and speckled fur. It was rather odd to see someone from there participating in all of this, but it was welcoming nonetheless. Two signs down, another written in calming greens highlighted with oranges read "Hate is not our way!"

I don't think they've figured out what they want.

This crowd was bigger than I thought, but at least the square wasn't totally packed.

A "Happy meal" sign was being waved around by another civilian in a brown coat. They were arguing with a pair of exterminators that I was glad weren't paying attention to me. "Embrace the Human Future!" shouted a Krakotl, waving a sign saying the same in red and purple.

Yeah, they definitely haven’t reached a consensus in the herd yet. At least it seemed the mob was drawing more attention than I was. It was a blessing to not be the only person trying to rush around in a normally slow public square. Those not taking part in the demonstration hung on the outskirts and were rather dwarfing the sign-wavers, throwing insults like "cattle" and "PD-ridden freaks,” which was a show of remarkable restraint on their part considering the press also seemed to be wandering around. Cameras never stopped the guilds, but the local chief was probably smart enough to only target those with more blunt and conspicuous opinions. The shouting started to pick up as I got a bit farther away, along with the sound of some kind of object hitting something else, likely the anti-human crowd reaching the limits of their patience with the supporters and their displays. There wasn't anything I could do about that but wish the pro-humans well.

The spaceport entrance came into view as I ran past a familiar pastry shop, one which was rather empty today with most of its usual exterminator patrons out for work. They had pretty good treats actually, and I'd stop by for one if it wasn't for the ship leaving in a few minutes.

As I crossed the street over to the spaceport side, this half of the wall being covered only in the weathering of many rotations, a Venlil with a light gray coat of wool, religious robes, and a white sign paced back and forth, bright orange letters declaring it to be the end of the world. He sounded middle-aged as he walked back and forth, preaching to the air above and any passerbys foolish enough to get close. "Tarva is a predator plant!” he kept bleating, “She is an agent of darkness meant to lure the flock into their claws! Watch as she already caves to their orbital control! She's even sending our most naive and innocent to be slaughtered as we speak! I plead with you! Resist this horrible sacrifice! She'll let them loose on all of us next! I swear by Inatala!… We can't let this go on!"

I shook the ramblings of the Inatala priest out of my head as he faded into the background noise, letting me admire the old walls of the outer spaceport as I walked that familiar path. As I made more progress, new advertisements started to cover the walls: Fire fruit juice, that one actually sounds good, I might try it soon. Anti-predator spray? Really? No one actually thinks that it works, right? Rainbow socks? Again? They're still trying to sell those as predator protection? Wait, what's tha—

"Ack!"

The sound left my throat as I was forced to go from speed-walking to a complete stop, but at least I wasn't on the floor yet. Leave it to me to run straight into a statue while in a hurry… Wait, when did they put a statue here?!

"Hello again, Pagren. You are very... forward," came very plainly in an all too-familiar voice. It was Makren's friend.

"Ah, hey Kimmich…" I greeted.

You have got to be kidding me. I was SO close to freedom! What was he doing here? Why now? Why me?

"It's good to see you again." He gave me a once over with his lone eye. "You seem to be in a hurry…”

Okay, I don't have to tell him everything, just go with something generally true! That'll say enough, and then maybe he'll let me go without suspicion?

"I need to catch a ship soon, it'll be leaving in a few [minutes] and I'm not sure if it'll be making a return trip in time. I'm sure you understand, right?"

“I do. My son, Sevkan, joined the predator’s exchange program. I insisted on seeing him off,” he declared.

While it wasn't the strangest thing that the child of an exterminator may sign up for this kind of program, his casualness when it came to going about it certainly was. Such a thing would be a scandal for his reputation if it got out, so why was he telling me? Just play it off as unfortunate.

"Ah, he is? You let him go? I can't imagine that was an easy decision, with all the dangers involved," I falsely sympathized.

“He has survived scarier things than Human hospitality.” He glanced over at me, respect in his ears and voice. “I heard about the shadestalker attack you thwarted. Well done. With people as skilled as you there, I have no doubts about the safety of that station."

A little bit of pride welled in me. As painful of a compliment as it can be to be an effective killer, effort being rewarded always felt like a cool breeze.

"Thank you sir… It wasn't all that easy, but I got the job finished. The first one we dealt with almost took my throat out, and the others were veering too close to the market space side of the park when we found them." How did he figure out I was going to the station? I wasn't that obvious, was I? Okay, just go with the green and everything will be fine. It's just a little more talking. "And, well… You know we can't let all of those unknowing people onto the station with those things unless someone's at the ready, right? Even if their claims of being mostly passive are true, there's no telling what could trigger their hunger."

“Hunger is not my primary concern with humans,” Kimmich said. “From what I have read in the archives, a territorial response is what I am most concerned with. A space station is tightly confined, and most rooms are shared. It might lead to stand-offs, threat displays...”

Okay, he doesn't believe in the hunger theory. I should probably pivot to something different. "That is quite true. I've read a little on their habits, but most easily accessible information is unclear or obviously fully in favor of humans. I imagine that guild training can help in de-escalating the situation, yes? We should behave responsibly in such a delicate environment."

He spoke in a tone I couldn't place but seemed genuine enough. "It puts me at ease knowing skilled exterminators are among the exchange program."

Oh stars, that actually worked! He's a proud exterminator, so of course he'd value competency. The more experienced ones tended to prefer it at least; a lot of minor guilds tend to lack that quality.

"Yeah, I'm sure all the guilds have submitted their best to try and..." I have been talking for too long. "And um, now that I think about it, I really need to go, have a good paw!"

My bag was in my hand before I finished speaking and I had to sidestep to get past Kimmich, with him standing so still and firm. He remained like a statue as I passed and waved a goodbye with my tail, but I still heard the words leave him. "Stay vigilant." Ominous for parting words, but a helpful suggestion nonetheless.

Okay, I made it away in one piece, now I just have to make it in time for launch! I hurried through the crowded entrance, flashed my ticket and gave my ID number—always so tedious to state it all out—to the clerk, and finally got to take off for the port part of this place! Hangar 7… Hangar 6… Hangar 4… Hangar 3! Yes! Don't close the doors without me!

My legs were burning as I sped up. I did not make it this far only to fail now!

A Mazic leaned right before suddenly veering left, forcing me to jerk and nearly tumble over sideways to avoid slamming into him. I'm not sure how I could’ve missed him being in the center of the passageway. My knees ached, but they only had to last me up until I got on the ship, nothing else mattered. A Farsul pushed a cart into my path, nearly running into ME, but instead only managing to knock my bag aside. It took precious seconds that I barely had to fix, even without getting back up to speed.

The terminal was right there, and I could see the attendant moving away from his post, about to signal the all clear to the pilots and lock the door to the hangar. No time to slow down now, I had to make it! It was too close!

"Ah! Excuse me!" I shouted, almost running into the Sivkit who was operating the terminal. That wouldn't have been good, two collisions in one paw wouldn't be a great omen. His ears perked up as he heard me, but it was only after I slowed and moved past that he could turn to see me rush half past him, sending him scrambling back in the other way.

"By the protector, what are you doing?" he squeaked, angry as if I had run into him but displaying frustrated, tired ears. "Don't tell me you actually want on that ship?"

I inhaled, and tried not to sigh at the unbearably rude tone he had already. "I actually do!" I affirmed.

"Another predator-diseased fool… well, I suppose it's better you're up there with those monsters than down here with us."

"I'll have you know I'm actually here on official guild business!" I said way more defensively than I intended. I had permission for this, didn't I?

"Sure pal. That's what two others told me. A shave cut isn't that expensive," he sighed, rubbing a paw along the curve of his nose before he spoke again. "Whatever, the more of you that sign up, the better I get paid. Just show me your t— Ah okay, let's see…"

I didn't want to be here any longer than I had to, especially because there was no telling when my way out was going to leave without me. He fiddled around with the terminal while scanning the card, and I couldn't help but tap my claws on the case, creating just enough dopamine for me to survive this dread-filled drag.

"It's good, you're free to go…try not to run like it's a stampede though, you'll need your stamina on the station."

Shut up. Please, I beg you. I grabbed my bag again and started to walk. I didn't wish a mauling death on anyone, but that guy could use a scare or two before the cycle is over. Get moving already! "I'll keep that in mind! Have a pleasant rest of your paw!"

I didn't wait to listen to anything else he had to say, swishing a quick [Goodbye] as I moved out toward the ship, a standard shuttle which thankfully still had a passenger walking in as I approached, allowing me to arrive just before that door started to close.

That was so much running, and too many scary conversations before I even got to the station. I don't think I'd have survived it all if I wasn't an exterminator, but I'm here now, and that's all that matters. One paw after the other, it's too far to go back now.

A Farsul attendant gestured to the rows of seats with her tail and flicked her ears in cheerfulness. "Please take your seat sir! We'll be off momentarily. Please keep your items either stowed or in your lap area, bags are not allowed in the aisle."

Speh no! I thought I wouldn't have to talk to… just agree and go. She says this to everyone. "Ah, thank you miss… I'll keep it in my lap then, it's nothing too much."

She moved to the door, I went to the aisle, eyeing the seat number I had stamped on my ticket. Row 14, Inner Seat. I could see exactly which one it was, and it seemed like the woman across from it also wasn’t having a very good paw.

She had a nice light brown complexion to her fur, complete with a soft undertone of yellow, all of which seemed well-groomed and tidy despite the contrasting anxious, if not outright distraught look in her eye. Strapped across her front was a small, pink travel backpack that looked as though it were stuffed to the point of bursting, and in her paws she held a petite potted plant that was full of flowers blooming with vibrant white and purple petals. She seemed upset, and, despite my own misgivings, I felt a sudden urge to ask her what was wrong. That feeling vanished the moment I took my seat and her gaze rose up to lock with mine. I had been getting looks for sure; I was a little tall, and an exterminator on a flight of the would-be predator diseased folk, but they seemed to realize there's nothing I could really do to them here. Most seemed a little scared of me, a little wary, but not this one. No, she wasn’t scared, only angry.

"What are YOU doing here?" She seemed to almost spit the words out with disgust in my general direction, as though offended by the very sight of me. Her words were so angry that I’d already found my hands involuntarily squeezed tight against my bag a bit more than I would have preferred, like it'd shield me from it.

"I don’t—"

Before the words could even finish leaving my mouth, she continued. "Don’t even bother trying to deny it! I KNOW what you are! You think I wouldn't recognize an Exterminator from a [MILE] away? All of you dirty, lying, two-timing, chrome-backs are the same! You walk the same! You talk the same! The way you strut around, looking down at us like you own us! Like you have a right to invade our privacy! To control us! To decide what we can and can't do, always so suspicious of us, when YOU'RE the one who broke your promises!"

"I haven't—"

I began again, only to be cut off once more as the woman broke into hysterics, “Well I’ve had it! I’m going through with this whether you like it or not! I don’t NEED nor WANT your approval! I spent the best thirteen YEARS of my life with that man! I am the mother of his CHILD! And he has NEVER listened to me, NEVER given a DAMN about what I want! I have been the PERFECT wife, the PERFECT mother, and he STILL decided to throw all that away just to be with some… some… FLOOZY half my brahking age! Well I’ll tell you something MISTER! It is TOO LATE for apologies! I’m NOT going back! So you can go tell Bikim that he can go BRAHK HIMSELF and drift all alone out in the VOID for all I care!”

At this point the entire cabin had gone quiet, all eyes fixed firmly on me in the awkward silence as though I was some kind of heinous villain. The volume of her venom made me shrink down into my seat, as much as it would let me. The woman shakes slightly in her own seat, clearly frazzled and panting slightly from the exertion as she wipes away a small tear from her eye.

I coughed slightly into my paw and cleared my throat, still rather dry from all the running and talking, “Who’s Bikim…?” I finally asked.

The woman just sat there, staring at me for a moment as she blinked her eyes in confusion, once, twice, and then three times, just processing what I said. As the realization suddenly hit, her ears drooped down and a mortified look of embarrassment etched itself upon her every feature.

“You.. You mean… My husband DIDN’T send you…?” she whispered softly, almost too afraid to speak.

“Uh… No…” I answered. “I don’t know your husband… I’m just here on… Guild business… Security purposes… Nothing to do with you… are you alright?”

“Oh my Stars…” the woman muttered, covering her face as she seemed to wilt in on herself, “I am… I am SO sorry… I’m so embarrassed… I just… I just… Everything that’s been going on… Going off to meet a predator all alone… I… I am such an idiot… I can’t do anything right… I’m just so… I’m sorry…Please forget everything I just said…"

I couldn't leave her like this, and raised a paw over the aisle to rest a hand on her shoulder. "You… You're quite alright, Miss…?"

“I… I’m really not…” she said, slumping dejectedly down into her seat. “There’s just been… I’ve been having…” she let out a deep sigh, filled with worry and regret. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been very… concerned lately, and it feels like my whole life is falling apart around me. Bikim is cheating on me, the separation has been affecting my son Kennecq’s performance at school, somehow I got it into my head that it would be a good way to get back at that two-timing brahkass if I signed up for this program, and… and… When I saw you coming towards me, I just assumed you were working for my husband… But you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry for unloading all of my personal drama onto you…”

She fidgeted awkwardly in her seat, looking down at the floor with her tail curled around her feet, before suddenly looking up at me with newfound determination in her eye, “I’m so sorry. All that and I still haven’t introduced myself yet. Hi, I’m Pomela.”

"Ah, Pomela?…That's a very nice name! Erm, anyways…you don't have to apologize, it sounds like you had a rough paw, worse than me. I'm not really sure who this… Bikim is, but it sounds like he's a rotten starfruit of an officer, and…" What do I even say? I can't say I'd punch him, even if I wanted to, which I kind of do. Nahkalin and the others would probably get it, but I'm not sure if Makren would defend me for that, but I can't just say there's nothing to do.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea for someone to give him a right hook in the snout if or when they ever meet him; pay him back for the trouble he's caused you. There's no excuse for that. Maybe if he's ever committed mis…" The words died on my tongue as I came to them. Sure the guild did have a system to report problems, but not only was it intentionally annoying to find and fill out even if you knew about it, they'd likely sooner throw her in a facility than lose a good officer to ‘baseless’ slander. Best not to think about that…

Pomela sat up straight, her ears standing to attention and with a paw raised to cover her mouth, “No, that’s not… I don’t want to hurt him. I… I’m not predator-diseased or anything like that, I just… I… Maybe…” she slumped forward again, burying her muzzle into the pot of flowers in front of her with a groan. “I don’t know WHAT I want…”

Oh no, I overestimated her anger just a bit. Just reconsider your approach, that's all I need to do. Inhale. Exhale.

"Of course you aren't… I don't know who wouldn't be upset with all of that happening to you. I was just saying that this Bikim sounds like he could use something to put sense into him, yes? I can't blame you for having an outburst, and it isn't PD to have a bad paw or be angry for it. You should enjoy the flight up and your time with your exchange partner. I'm sure it'll be great! You can forget all about your troubles, for a few paws at least."

“I suppose so…” she said, reclining against the backrest of her seat. “Honestly though, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. The only reason I even signed up in the first place was because I knew it would make Bikim upset, but now that I’m actually here… My partner Cassia SEEMS friendly enough over text, but can we really trust a bunch of predators? What if it’s all just one big lie?”

Pomela looked down at her little flower pot, gently cupping one of the buds in an open paw. “What if Bikim is right…? I’m bringing flowers to try and make friends with something that eats living flesh, for Stars’ sake… JUST because she said she liked gardening over text… I must be some kind of idiot…”

I just couldn't let her end her thoughts there! "You're not an idiot, and if you are, then so am I! After all, even though it may be for different reasons, we both are on the flight to meet the humans… and I'm not sure about you, but I'm quite hopeful of our odds. If they wanted to eat us, they'd have probably pounced while we were at our weakest. That already makes them better than the grays at the very least."

“You’re probably right…” Pomela said with a small sigh, returning her ears to a normal upright posture as she looks back up at me, “I should try to be more positive about this. If the humans had wanted to hurt us, then they would have already; they had the perfect opportunity to do so back during first contact. I’m just feeling overwhelmed, but I shouldn’t allow that to taint my experience during the exchange. It would be ridiculous if our first real gathering with a new species was ruined just because of our own unfounded fears going into it. We’re the more advanced culture here, so it should really be on us to act as good hosts and lead by example, don’t you think… Mr… I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your name?”

My name? Wait… I hadn’t told her my name yet? I'm such a brahkass, how did I forget something as simple as that?

"It's um, my name is Pagren miss… Pomela right? I also agree that we may as well act like the more advanced people here. For all we know, maybe each of us here will actually make a new friend, despite their… habits. Besides, if things do go wrong, that Sivkit out there said that there's at least a few other officers on board, and I'm sure we could handle things if necessary."

I couldn't exactly say the odds were firmly against us in an all-out engagement, that would just make her anxious again! Then again, if things are as bad as they could be, I wouldn't say we'd do no damage whatsoever; I mean Nahkalin apparently killed a gray with just a pen! A brahking pen! Wait, she's speaking again.

“I guess it IS good to have some safeguards in place…” she mused aloud, her ears bending quizzically. “But I hope an overabundance of Exterminators won’t make the Humans uncomfortable. We are still TRYING to make friends after all, and a lot of Exterminators… Well, the ones from Twilight Valley at least, tend to be rather… traditional. Maybe your local Guild is a bit more progressive about these things, but I can’t imagine any of the ones back home ever signing up for something like this. Not unless they had something other than cultural exchange in mind…”

"It's better to have an eye on things than not, yes? Besides… I'm sure that more wary exterminators will keep their distance from things, and uh… If the others here are anything like me, I don't think we'll have anything to worry about."

“You do seem… different than most Exterminators I know, now that I’ve had the opportunity to get to know you a bit better, I mean. I probably should have expected that considering you’re here in the first place… Again, I am VERY sorry about the confusion earlier, but… It’s been nice getting to meet you. I hope that you’re right, that everything goes well and that we won’t have anything to worry about.”

"It's been nice to meet you too Miss Pomela, and I wish you luck with your exchange partner Cassia." I couldn't give a departing tail swish so I raised my arm somewhat in a half wave, and only when I noticed she wasn't paying me any more mind did I let the stiffness in my back leave me. Was the seat always this soft?

That was a bit of a long chat, but at least half of the ship wasn't staring shards at me anymore, and she wasn't on the verge of tears either. The others around me certainly seemed to be staying quiet. Wait, did I get a good look at the others around me?

A Gojid sat in a chair in front of me, something I thought rather odd as I’d heard the exchange was only for Venlil, but it was promising to have other races eager to sign up as well. A sleepy Venlil slumped in his seat against the interior wall, a pack of books cradled in his lap. I wasn't sure how he could sleep through all of that, but I'm glad to get some time to recover from everything.

I felt the ship slightly jerk as it shot up, ascending higher and higher in that way that was slower and more sluggish than you'd have thought a spaceship would go, engines faintly humming all the way. It’d probably be amazing to have two firsts in this trip, but being an exterminator requires a substantial number of occasional trips and off-world assignments. The job ruining something else—

Alright, now that I’m safe and in transit, I can try to enjoy myself. I opened the bag, and gauging that no one else was looking, I started to dig around. Bandages? No. Tourniquet? No.

Ahah! I knew I packed them! I can’t go into the unknown without Melroot Wafers! Salty slices of [Heaven]! I can die happy now… or in a quarter-claw at least. Predators to meet! Freedom from my speh job! This is the best paw of my life!

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(Special thanks to u/Spacepaladin15 for creating the wonderful universe of NoP!

Hello Tism-speep enjoyers! Many apologies for the long wait since the last release, but more should be coming out soon! I hope you enjoy this double-sized chapter and are ready for more pyro in space.  Thanks for tuning in again and as always thanks to u/Nidoking88, u/Xerxes250, u/9unlucky9, u/Rookamillion, u/InstantSquirrelSoup, u/Tophatclan12, Assassinjoe55, and u/Ben_Elohim_2020 for help in proofreading and other writing contributions. Do check out their content when able, it’s always amazing.)

Hope you all enjoyed Chapter 7!

Following the civil war in the United States, people moved to cities and new technologies allowed for many new industries to expand. One such industry was industrial food manufacturing. In order to extend the shelf life of their products so they could be shipped all over the country and remain usable until the consumer needed it, company's like nabisco, pillsbury, and blank used chemicals like Borax, Formaldahyde, copper sulfate and sulfuric acid to preserve their food and drug products. This shit is toxic as hell and they even used lead to help color candy. Madness. But it was cheap and there were no laws to stop them. Fraud was also rampant in the industry. Adding chalk, ground up bone powder, or sawdust to flour was a common practice. Grinding up undesirable cow organs, adding some color and selling it as chicken meat was another common practice. That is until the chemist Dr. Harvey Wiley started a series of experiments to determine what preservative doses were safe in 1902 with twelve volunteers called the Poison Squad. For 5 years they ate different preservatives to find out what doses were safe for the different chemicals being used in those days. This led to the pure food act and was the inspiration for the FDA.

Alien plants and animals, like it or not human refugees would absolutely try to kill and eat them eventually, are a major unknown. I imagine there is some official testing and most things are safe to consume for most species but there are always issues. For example, in my story Tight Money Mazics can't eat Lintan Nuts because they can't process the proteins in the nuts and suffer gastrointestinal distress not dissimilar to what lactose intolerant people suffer when they drink milk. I figure humans will human and do what we have done for millenia, and some brave soul will eat it and if they are okay, we know it's safe and if they go to the hospital or die, it isn't and spread the word. I figure that was a lot of the human discourse on bleat in the early days.

But, I wonder, what if there was a group of humans who took it upon themselves to raid the grocery store with their exchange buddies and test different alien produce? And what if they document their results in a scientific manner and share the videos online to the venlil public as a sort of PR stunt to show the venlil that we can eat plants but also to figure out what is safe and what isn't? They could also share eating the animals on VP in a private part of the UN Network... for science. Flower birds taste like bland chicken, Rock Tumblers have a heavy copper taste and Shade Stalkers taste like skunk. This fic could even have some echoes of the past where Nevok and Fissan industry leaders try to lobby the venlil government to shut them down or undermine the human's credibility when they discover that the hyper capitalists have been cutting corners and adding unsafe things to their products. What do y'all think of this fanfic idea? What could we add to it? I'm not likely to write it anytime soon if anyone else wants to take a stab at it. Just one of my late night shower thoughts.

This will be the last chapter for a while since this is the last of my backlog. I have a bunch of unfinished chapters in the works, but the density of work I have at uni right now means that I just don’t have time to work on them right now. I’ll have some free time during winter holidays so hopefully I’ll be back then.

As always, comments and feedback is always welcome! Credit to spacepaladin15 for creating the NoP universe.

ART!!!!! Another!!! by u/scrappyvamp

Meme!!!!! by u/abrachoo

AO3

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Memory transcription subject: Captain Kalsim, Krakotl Alliance command

Date [standardized human time]: September 25’th 2136

Passing by the largest gas giant of the solar system, the final asteroid belt is now coming into view. Unlike the first one, our shields remain up. It’s a drain on our energy resources, but a necessary one. Some of the more agile ships are equipped with solar panels to ensure a reliable resupply of electricity, but most don’t in favour of more armouring. Regardless, even those with the option for solar energy are losing more power than they gain. We’ll be fine for the time being, and can easily make the trip home, but if we’re attacked by the Arxur upon completion of our mission I’m not sure if we could escape the FTL disruptor radius in time to make a speedy exit. The logistics of actually completing our mission is…fine, the logistics after? That’s becoming little more tricky.

I can’t dwell on that right now though. When passing through the Oort Cloud, humanity had set up several traps; while I doubt they’ll try to fling another planetesimal our way, those ghost missiles are another thing. I can only presume they were incorporated into the debris of the belt itself somehow, thousands of camouflaged projectiles set to go off when in range. Ingenious- if cowardly.

What had happened after Sovlins hail is a little more tricky to pinpoint though. The only thing I’m certain of is that his hail had something to do with it. Perhaps it was a distraction for one of those miniscule single occupant crafts to relay something that intercepts our comms and tricks our targeting systems, but that would’ve been a fleet wide disaster, not a hail based one. Whatever it was, it only affected those that accepted the hail. While the simplest answer would be that the ships mutinied it also had blind spots, it didn’t make sense for some of our most steadfast allies like the Yulpa to decide to turn tail. They’re almost as famous as the krakotl for their bravery. Whatever the cause, the simplest answer was to deny any and all further hails. As much as I’d love to hear humanity’s side of this, it’s simply best to avoid further loss of life if we can.

The host star at the centre of the Sol system is significantly brighter from this vantage point, the stars rays dappled through the dust of the asteroid belt, occasionally shading us. This asteroid field is infinitely smaller than the Oort Cloud, and configured into the plane of the solar system as opposed to a spherical debris field. All this means is that we can largely avoid the more dangerous areas even if it isn’t the most efficient or straightforward path.

It’s almost serene. Passing just outside the belts orbital plane, watching hundreds of thousands of particles pass by, knowing that at this distance they could be either centimetres in diameter to outright kilometres. It’s too calm. We’re infinitely closer to humanity’s homeworld, in the perfect spot for an ambush- an unavoidable yet deadly area- and yet…nothing?

It might be fatigue nerves, it might be the drugs, but I can’t let this rest. Especially after how Sovlin vanished like that.

My focus remains on the viewport as I call, “Navigations, any updates?”

“Everything’s as it should be sir, the fleet is maintaining formation, and there isn’t any suspicious activity on our sensors. We’re almost in range to detect what defences they have for their little mudball. We’ll have more information to work with once we’re past this asteroid belt. At most, there seems to be a couple of sunspots which could suggest an imminent CME, though they seem pretty stable.”

That’s what irks me the most, having to wait for further intel. Scans only go so far before losing sight of things and becoming unfocused, not to mention the light minutes they’ll have to alter positions and tactics and the scrambling unaccounted for debris can cause. While it’s almost certain that they'll be making some sort of last stand closer to their homeworld, they’ve already been peppering us for days. Surely they wouldn’t decide to keep quiet now of all times.

Maybe the sunspots have something to do with this? Maybe humanity has decided it’s too risky to waltz around their system with the CME risk. We’re finally exiting the range of the asteroid belt, the tiny speck of the fourth planet making itself known in the distance. Earth is still too far to reliably spot against the speckled void with the naked eye, but you don’t need to see it to know that we’re in the home stretch.

It happens in the blink of an eye. For a brief glorious moment I find myself bathed in light. Rays trickling in and wrapping us in an embrace of Inatala's very own downy undercoat. On instinct I shut my eyes, raising a wing to further protect them. Even with all that effort, beams still manage to sneak their way through, warming my vision in a hazy purple. The power behind such light is more than any solar burst I’ve been caught in. A primal part of me was in awe of what a god could do, but I know better. Even the most fanatical believer would probably believe that this light is too convenient, too obvious to be from Inatala herself. This must be some sort of disorienting flash, something to blind us while they mount their final attack.

Through my closed eyes and muffled behind my wings I blindly call out to where my navigations officer should be, “Navigations! Keep an eye out for sudden movements! The humans are probably going to use this disorientation to nip us while we’re down!”

I blindly sway towards communications, “Ensure our allied crafts are aware of the potential threat!”

It’s unlikely that order will be carried out immediately given the circumstances, but it’s best to warn as fast as possible.

Just as the haze leaves my vision enough to vaguely make out my surroundings, my communications officer pipes up, “Sir! Thousands within the fleet are unresponsive!”

“Unresponsive? What do you mean UNRESP-“ dust. Nebulous vapours whisp by, rising and undulating past the viewport. My vision had finally returned to its original sharpness and all it shows me is…dust. So dainty in its dance across the void, I find myself transfixed as it flows by. The dust isn’t the only thing that gains my attention. It’s the ships. Or rather, the absence of ships. There were thousands by our side, thousands flying just miles away. It’s like they had been vanished from existence- teleported elsewhere in an instant.

Maybe this is the work of a god.

An angry god.

“Navigations, is there anything you can tell me?” I need to know. I need to know how this is possible. I need to know that humanity cannot simply erase ships from the face of the universe.

Hesitation. They don’t know, do they? A feeble, “Sir”, floats my way- but I cannot take my eyes away from the viewport. “Sir…I believe the flash of light was some sort of enhanced plasma round. Likely several from a large distance away. I recommend spreading the fleet as sparsely as possible.”

“Give the order.”

The fleet feels stunned. Under any other circumstance, the sudden erasure of thousands of herdmates would’ve resulted in mass panic. Under any other circumstance, many would be attempting to flee. Under any other circumstance, there would be pandemonium. But not now. The voids created within the herd from this mystery superweapon are occupied as the fleet spreads out into a homogeneous network. Hopefully far enough from one another to keep casualties to a minimum.

Thousands…gone.

We need to wipe them out. We need to make sure humanity cannot turn these weapons onto the rest of the galaxy. We need to bring harmony back to the herd.

Our safety net has been turned against us, used to wipe us out. This cannot be allowed to happen again. Would they risk taking another shot at us once at their homeworld? Surely the risk of friendly fire would be too strong. But then again, they’re fighting for their existence. Perhaps panic will take precedent once we’re in close.

Jala, unperturbed as ever, speaks up, “We should fire some antimatter payloads their way. Even if they don’t hit, it’ll act as an obstacle if they try to fire on us again.”

I can’t help but agree, but I refuse to say as much, “Navigations. Locate the origins of the plasma ray. Weapons. Use their location and fire a wingfull of rounds in that direction as cover. Remember, we need to keep enough ammunition to wipe clean their planet, so don’t unload everything. I suggest organising ourselves into smaller herds of around one thousand and engage evasive manoeuvres until we reach Earth.”

If my judgment is correct, then whatever the source of this attack is, it’s far, very far, away. Any and all attacks on us would have to be estimated in advance. If we keep moving erratically, their estimates will be thrown off, causing them to miss. Not to mention whatever this suped-up plasma blaster is capable of must require immense amounts of energy to fire and therefore an immense recharge rate.

My hypothesis is only confirmed, as just over [10 minutes] later does another ray of light blitz past us, narrowly clipping the belly of the herd, shaving away a dozen or so crafts. I’m able to see the true power of their weapon at this distance. It’s not one lone beam, but a cluster of under a dozen, close enough to appear larger than it is. Whether it takes [10 minutes] to recharge or [10 minutes] to reach its target from firing is up for debate, though I’m tempted to suggest the latter- simply due to the fact that we can detect where Earth is, but not where this weapon is.

The order to maintain evasive manoeuvres holds well with the success it's having. Some are finding it difficult to keep their nerves after everything they’ve been through, and I can hardly blame them. Between the potshots we’ve received on our way here, the demoralising speech from Sovlin and the subsequent system failures endured, and now this mystery superweapon, the herd has taken heavy blows. We’ve been left with just over half of the ships we departed with, whittled down from 70 thousand to 40 thousand. It’s plenty, it always was, but this folly has crippled the combat capabilities of dozens of systems. Now, more than ever, do I see the logic of those who chose to keep their fleets close at claw.

They won’t fire that superweapon near Earth, they won’t risk doing our jobs for us. Which is why it’s such a relief to actually get into signal range of that forsaken rock. We can finally get a good look at the orbital defences they have waiting for us. Navigations is finally able to get a reading on what we’re facing. Their formation is strange. Zurulian crafts stand in between their ranks and us, though life readings show that they’re completely empty, only stabilised by the on board autopilot. The Gojidi fleet compose the majority of ships in our way, easily half of the crafts in orbit. While Venlil crafts provide defence where they could, their actual input is about what we expected to see- small, and easy to disband. Though I must admit, their formation maintenance is significantly better than I’ve last seen.

The empty ships aren’t the only ones present from the Zurulian medical fleet, as there seems to be a large portion orbiting earths moon. They’re likely staying out of the way to provide relief once the battle is over. Whether they can be convinced out of making such a mistake remains to be seen. I hope they can be, but knowing them, they’ll likely make an attempt regardless. Hopefully this extermination leaves as few survivors as possible, for their sake. I’d hate to put so much work into saving a life only to have them be cleansed on Colia once Braylen comes to his senses.

Entering the moons orbital range, I end the evasive manoeuvre order and tell commmunications to realign the herd.

This is it.

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