Braq, radji Cradle Ecologist
Date [standardised human time]: March 10th, 2117
(19 years, 5 months before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
Braq watched as Turin marched through the camera feeds. It was odd, he admitted to himself, and slightly neurotic to watch her go and check all the pens and equipment. But the screen was just in sight above the kitchen countertop. So, he would watch her as he made breakfast for them both. And, well, so what if he liked to watch her work?
This morning’s fast was broken by dried shoko fruit, hard-grain cereal, and an herbal tea.
It was neither of their favourites but was nutritious enough. The days were already growing shorter, and they needed to put on stores in both body and home.
Braq glanced at the screen again. Turin was checking on the shadow monitors and he took the opportunity briefly admire the deftness of her claws at work.
The not-so-predators were still being a thorn among the quills, and Braq had resorted to feeding them by hand. It kept them alive and content, but all they seemed to have learned was that food came from tongs. The vexise were also still not breeding, despite there being ample space, nourishment, and enrichment.
The stiplets meanwhile were breeding in the foothills. Braq knew from his time in the agricultural sector that the longer they were left unchecked the more damage they would do. Perhaps some good old fashioned pest control would be in order? Came the unbidden thought, not for the first time. He quashed it, Professor B’tly’s voice flashing through his mind. We’re ecologists, she had said. We build the ecosystem to care for itself. Braq found himself thinking of his tutor for the first time in many years. The old hag had been a severe woman, critical and demanding. The process always had to be shown, the proof was never self-evident. Still, she had been one of the few to stand up for them in Caiyu when he and Turin had put forward their research. The public shaming still stung, particularly in an arena where the evidence was supposedly all there was. It was strange how peers whom they had been on friendly terms with had abandoned them, whilst that harsh old crone had stood by them. They only think of a pyq’s narrow, serrated teeth, he supposed. I hope B’tly is doing alright…
He was pulled from his thoughts as his tablet buzzed, and he was surprised to see a message from Turin:
Oi, creeper.
Braq looked up at the screen. Turin was still standing outside the shadow monitor pens but was now smiling directly at the camera. Shit.
She began typing on her tablet, and a new message appeared:
Come see. Bring breakfast.
Sheepishly, Braq balanced their meal on a tray and made his way outside. Turin was leaning over the side of one of the pens to watch the monitor within. On his approach she looked up and grinned at him, a sunny playfulness in her eyes.
“Someone got caught with their head down the burrow,” she chided by way of greeting.
“How’d you know?” Braq asked.
“You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out,” his partner responded with a sly smile, taking her bowl and cup from him. “Have a look at this.”
Looking into the enclosure Braq saw not one but two monitors that appeared to be attempting to wrestle with one another. One was slightly larger than the other and had the deeper brown and black markings of an adult, the other was clearly a juvenile. They would muscle up against each other’s chests, roll around to try and nip at the tail or the face, only for one to fall onto its back and wriggle desperately away from its attacker, when after a moments respite, the bout would start all over again.
“Hmm. How’d they get in the same pen?” Braq asked, taking a sip of his tea.
“I was trying to clean out Boubou’s pen and the little monster wouldn’t leave me alone, kept nibbling at my claws,” Turin responded, gesturing to the smaller lizard. “So, I threw him in with his neighbour. Next thing I know they’re all over each other.”
Odd, Braq thought as they ate their breakfast and watched the bout play out. They were small, unassuming creatures really, and the little ones haven’t shown any aggression until now. Watching the pair wrestle, it was hard to see what all the fuss was about. These monitors were a far cry from the monsters that raided and butchered on far off worlds. A thought struck him then.
“I wonder…” Braq said aloud. Quickly reaching over and plucking a piece of shoko fruit from Turin’s bowl, he threw it into the pen.
“Hey!” Turin protested. Braq made curt noise of apology and gestured to watch.
The reptiles had stopped their melee. The larger one, slithering out from under Boubou’s hindquarters, offered a departing nibble of the tail and approached the fruit warily. Boubou watched on with apparent interest as the adult stood over the dried offering and, giving it a cursory sniff, smacked its lips before turning away. The juvenile’s head darted from his elder to the fruit and back again. He then wandered over and gave it a sniff to smell for himself. Boubou once more looked over his shoulder at the adult, before following them away from the fruit.
Braq realised he was holding his breath as epiphany washed over him. They mimic the parents, he realised. Braq turned in time to see Turin scurrying to the far end of the pens, before nearly pulling the storage door off its hinges. They had kept the feed as far away from the lodge as possible, to avoid any pests being around where they slept. It was still best to keep predators out of the home after all.
Running back, she held a small bucket full of dried predator kibble at arm’s length. Taking a disgusting chunk in a pair of tongs, she threw it into the pen.
This time the adult moved far more quickly, and throwing its head back swallowed the morsel whole. Braq’s revulsion died in his throat as Boubou walked up to the spot where the non-meat had fallen and licked the ground. Without skipping a beat Turin lobbed one more lump in which landed with a plop to Boubou’s right.
He snorted around it thoroughly before wolfing it down.
“Yes!” cried Turin, jumping up and down, almost coating the pair of them in kibble. Grinning wildly, Braq took the repugnant bucket from her and set it down before lifting her in an enormous bear-hug.
“You know what this means?!” he asked.
“The stiplets are in for a shock!” she laughed.
“More than that,” he hooted, putting her down and placing his paws on her shoulders. “They have to learn what they eat from the parents!” It was so obvious once he said it out loud. But of course! he thought. Predators must be taught how to be predatory, what was safe to eat and what was not. How to… do what they do.
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Turin playfully thumped him on the chest.
“Why’d it have to be my fruit?!” When all Braq had in response was a wry grin, he received a playful pout and a second swipe for good measure. “That’s it, you’re doing dinner tonight!”
“But I did breakfast!” Braq protested.
“Yup, but I only got to eat half of it before your dirty paws were in it. Besides you still owe me for the cameras.”
“Yes boss,” he said. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to watch the reptiles at play.
“We’ll have to pair each juvenile up with an adult,” she thought aloud, “but there isn’t enough adults for each child…” Braq nodded and leaned over the edge of the pen.
“It’s probably easiest to group them by clutch and sire then,” he suggested. “Might even be what they’d do naturally. I’ll go get the logs from the incubator room.” Turin nodded absently, looking down at the young reptile playing with its senior. The two were getting along like old friends now. Like parent and…
He stepped over to her, and gently pulled her snout to his. Her arms went around his waist as she looked up at him, and that same sunny playfulness filled her eyes again.
“We did it,” she purred.
“Yup,” he whispered. “Ecologist of the year.” Giggling, she thumped a paw against his chest again, more gently this time.
“Go on Mr. Ecologist,” she said, splaying the same paw across his breast. “Go get those logs.” Picking up his cup and bowl as he turned away, Braq set off with something of a spring in his step.
In shadow monitors, he recalled, the mother left the eggs behind in a mound that is then guarded by a male, before she moves on to find other mates. Turin had spent weeks building a large enough enclosure that all the nests had ample space, but for good measure a few clutches had to be incubated anyway.
As the amber lights clinked on in the incubator room, Braq stood for a moment dumbfounded. Where had they left the logs? he asked himself. First, he checked the storage racks. He was looking for a large black book. Or was it blue? Regardless, there were no books here. Second, he headed out of the incubator room, and after setting down his bowl and cup on the counter, looked at the shelf in the living room. There’s a lot of books here…
Deciding he was right the first time, he doubled back.
In the split-second between his re-entering the chamber and the lights coming on, he thought he saw something move. He stopped in his tracks. Looking to the storage racks everything was as he left it. Braq glanced over at the incubators. Only one was running, the one containing the large blue egg he had acquired from Dirk. Resting atop the incubator was a large black book. Aha.
As he reached out for the log, the egg trembled. Braq jumped back in surprise. The egg had done nothing for almost three weeks. Had he imagined it? He leaned forward, his nose a finger from the glass.
“Do it again,” he whispered. After a long moment the egg wobbled. “Yes!” Braq exclaimed, flipping out his tablet.
Egg. Come see.
As he looked up the egg shook more violently, shifting in the incubators interior stand. Somebody wants out, he thought. His tablet buzzed:
Message not delivered.
Cursing their network connection, Braq darted back outside. Flinging the back door open, he almost knocked Turin over.
“Hey-!” was all she managed before Braq took her paw in his and dashed with her back to the incubator and the precious egg within. They ran into the chamber a full three seconds before the lights joined them and stood breathlessly in the din.
“Egg,” Braq wheezed. Turin squeezed his paw beside him.
The light flickered into life.
The egg had hatched, that was now obvious. The top of the egg had been pushed out, and pieces of blue-green eggshell, muted in the orange light, were scattered through the interior of the incubator. Perhaps two-thirds of the egg was still in one piece and laying headfirst out of it was a tiny reptilian. The pair edged closer.
It was small, about the same size as the juvenile shadow monitors in the pens outside, but slighter in its build. The muted shade of the incubators interior made discerning it’s colouration difficult, but it was clearly mottled and counter shaded. Of what Braq could see of the body it was lanky, and lithe. The forelimbs were similarly long and gangly and were rested out beneath the head and neck. They joined at the shoulder widely, further down the body than in radji. This placed the limbs alongside the torso, not beneath it, and attached by prominent shoulder blades to a long, muscular neck. Something about the curve of that appendage disturbed Braq, in a way he could not place.
At the end of that neck was a pointed skull, still capped on the snout with the egg tooth it had used to escape its birth. Where it joined the neck, the skull was thick and rounded, slightly taller than it was wide. The upper face, forehead and eyes were all placed above a long sloping snout, perhaps two-thirds the length of the neck, and again taller than it was wide. The eyes were currently shut and were placed wide but forwards in the skull. Whilst the orbits were large, the head was dominated by the downward sloping muzzle, giving it an appearance of always looking down its nose. Braq was reminded of the way his childhood priest’s spectacles had always balanced precariously on the end of his muzzle as he looked down on the clergy. A pair of small nostrils worked quickly, continuously in a dark nose at its end.
“What is it?” Turin asked beside him.
“I haven’t a clue,” Braq replied.
“It’s very thin…”
“It was transported through interstellar space,” Braq said evenly, “maybe its gestation got messed up.”
Turin mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Ecologist of the year.’
“The paws are strange,” she commented as she peered closer. Braq joined her at the glass and, taking a closer look, could see that membrane from the eggs interior still held some of the shell together.
The paws were indeed unusual, sporting six digits each. The centre four were slightly longer and more robust than the outer pair and padded more thoroughly. The two smaller outer digits –one on each side– faced inwards and were clearly more dextrous than the others. They sat slightly higher up the palm than the other digits, so that when the limb sat in contact with the ground the outer digits were kept elevated. Each digit of the hand were capped with sharp claws. Wait… hand?
Turin had clearly noticed the same thing.
“Are those thumbs?” she said, more thinking than asking.
As if in answer, the little creature’s head lifted, and a limb pulled back and gripped around the cracked edge of its cradle. The eyes remained closed, but the lips parted and as the reptilian opened its maw to yawn, Braq and Turin beheld its teeth, narrow and serrated.
They did not need to say anything more to one another, and they could not have regardless. Both were gibbering messes as they fell over each other in their flight, before pressing their backs against the opposing wall. Across the galaxy no other creature was so feared as the sole sapient predator to still exist. Neither had seen a gray before, but any travelling through interstellar space feared their cattle raids.
For the longest time, the couple stood breathing rapidly against the wall, watching for the slightest movement. Braq could not think, and he found himself waiting for the monster to finally open its eyes and throw itself against the glass. What have I done?!
Beside him, Turin unpeeled herself from the wall and stepped forward again. What’s she doing?!
“Turin!” Braq hissed, but she waved him off.
“I- it can’t exactly get out, c- can it?” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “We n- need to be sure. Where did Dirk say he found it again?”
“One of the colony worlds!” Braq blurted shaking his head, he still had not left the safety of the wall. “In a- a mound of some kind…” He could not look away from the tiny reptile.
The pyq had not moved. Its eyes were still shut, but it now seemed to be panting in the heat of the incubator. Turin’s legs shook as she got within arm’s reach of the incubator.
“We don’t know enough,” she said, her voice firmer now. “Go check the literature… Barudama perhaps. He was one of the few v’rstatin stupid enough to try to study pyq.”
“And leave you here with that…!” he cried, suddenly brave enough to take a step into the room. Turin’s paws were balled into fists, her eyes fixed on the little predator.
“I’ll be fine. Go, quickly.” Damn her courage. Braq thought. Breathing through his teeth, he edged towards her. He took her nearest paw in his and gave it a squeeze.
“I’ll be right back.”
Braq tore into the living room. Book, book, book, book, BOOK! Why do we have so many books?! He snatched their copy of the v’rstatin’s Methods, safety, and monitoring of predators in containment, from the shelf and began skimming through the index. Perane, Prydu, Pyq…
He tried to blank out the images as he flicked through. He was a scientist, and not unfamiliar with anatomy. But these pictures…
He skipped to the summary of the reproduction section, and read:
‘Attempts to study the reproduction of sapient predators have been strife with difficulty, be it personal or scientific. The pyq are a particularly trying case, as only the warrior caste (colloquially dubbed “Greys”) has been thoroughly documented. The grey’s anatomy is seemingly unyielding to induced pregnancy (Figures 19–21), and a dangerous procedure for both subject and experimenter (See Table 12a for full list of subject destruction rates).’
“Braq! Quickly!” Turin called out; her fear was palpable. He was not going to find anything here and started pulling books that might help—any books—from the shelves. As he turned to go his eyes passed over the monitor, and he promptly dropped them all on the floor.
There was a vehicle approaching the lodge.
Shit.
---
“Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?”
– Daughter, Janice A. Lee.