Turin, radji Cradle Ecologist.
Date [standardised human time]: March 10th, 2117
(19 years, 5 months before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
Turin stared in muted horror at the creature. On some level she knew it was a pyq; they had both seen those sharp teeth, those clawed hands, the thick curving neck, but disbelief still overrode her rationality. How could it be a pyq?
It still had not moved, but it’s panting had increased. Perhaps it’s overheating, she wondered. Braq ran back into the room, startling her.
“We’ve… got… visitors!” he announced breathlessly.
“What!” Turin cried. “Who?! Why now?!” They had not had any visitors in months. Turin would have found it amusing if her nerves were not already shot.
“I don’t know, but we don’t have long. We have to hide it!” he hissed. He’s gone mad.
“Shouldn’t we ask-”
“No,” Braq said quickly. “No. What do you think would happen if they told the Extermination officers that I’d brought a pyq onto the Cradle?!” He placed a paw on each of her shoulders. “We’re the only real ecologists left on the planet. The only ones trying to study the Cradle in its native state. Why do you think that is?!”
Turin had not heard such paranoia from Braq before. But you’ve had similar thoughts, haven’t you? whispered something dark from the back of her mind.
“Last time they took our posting from us, our funding, made our peers and our families shun us. We have nothing but what we’ve built here now, and they’d take that too! No. We must hide it, then destroy it!” To destroy, no murder, a newborn was against everything Turin believed as a scientist. But it’s a pyq. The darkness whispered, and she knew Braq was right. Yet still her voice, small though it was, protested without her.
“No, it’s not right.”
“There’s no time to argue,” Braq replied, burying his face in his paws. “Just get it and the eggshell out of there and hidden somewhere it won’t be found.”
“You want me to pick it up?!” Turin all but yelled. “How the hell do I do that?!”
“I don’t know just be quick! I’ll need to clean up in the living room and distract them for a bit. We’ll get through this, then decide what to do with it okay?” Braq said. Turin nodded reluctantly. He turned and ran up the corridor, leaving Turin alone again with the pyq.
What is he thinking? Oh, Protector what do I do? Turin decided she had to get it out of the lodge. She looked around the room and saw the storage racks, the broken dingy, the bag the creature’s egg had come in, the logbook, and a bunch of useless clutter. Not exactly a pyq wranglers’ kit, she thought. Turning to the incubator, she saw the creature was still panting behind the glass, its little scaly chest rising and falling with haste. “It’ll have to go somewhere it can’t escape…” she thought aloud. Ah, the pens. They were out of the house, out of sight, and secure, they would do fine. But how to get it there?
By now, Turin could hear a vehicle approaching the lodge. Its engine did not have the same roar as the all-terrain buggy, but the distinctive twin-thwop of a hovercar. She had a minute now, perhaps two. Cornering her resolve, she snatched up the fabric bag. Her paws shook as she turned off the incubator, and the low hum from its working died. Her paw rested on the latch, but she found she could not turn it. Now she was panting.
I must do this, Turin told herself. “Bravery is action despite fear,” she whispered.
Her panting became a yell, and in one fluid motion she threw open the incubator door and swept both pyq and eggshell into the bag. The predator made a squeaking noise as her paw brushed against it, and Turin bristled at the contact. She could feel it twisting in the bag as she tied the top of it shut, before holding it at arm’s length.
The thwop-ing outside had stopped.
The amber lights flicked off behind her and darkness chased Turin up the hall. As she passed the entrance to the living room, Braq stopped replacing books on an unceremoniously toppled bookcase and stared at her wide-eyed.
Turin hurled herself up the steps to the back door and heard Braq replace the shelf, just as claws rapped against the front door. As quietly as she could, Turin slid out of the lodge, sprinting down the long line of shadow monitor pens. Where was it? Where was it?! her breathless mind begged of her. She skidded to a stop before Boubou’s still vacated pen, the juvenile laying asleep atop the adult in the neighbouring enclosure. Turin quickly placed the wriggling bag at the back of Boubou’s pen before locking the latch.
Gasping for air, she leaned over the railing. Oh Protector, thank you.
She stood steadying herself for a few moments, trying to regain some composure. She had just bagged and carried the most ruthless and dangerous species in the galaxy like a sack of washed vegetables. The thought made her giggle hysterically. She could hear Braq talking to someone in the lodge. As her breathing settled, she tidied her pelt and walked back into their home.
Standing with Braq in the living room were two radji Turin had never seen before, a man and a woman. The woman was similar in height to Turin and, like her, wore working overalls. But the newcomer was portlier, and Turin would have called her expression pugnacious if she was not also clearly quite uncomfortable. The man was more unsettling.
Turin resisted the urge to gasp as she saw he wore the half-sash and grey smock garb of an extermination officer. He was also very tall; Braq was quite a large and stocky radji, but the officer was a full hand and a half taller than him. He could also be described as svelte, but Turin thought that the word implied a kind of beauty and elegance that this man lacked.
But it was the eyes that disturbed Turin the most. Unlike the black and brown of typical radji, this man had a white sclera and blue irises. Those eyes never stopped moving as the officer walked slowly around the room, and their horrid paleness allowed her to see where he looked with a gross clarity. Braq, ceiling, bookshelf, countertop. Sink, cupboards, camera monitor. Fireplace, Braq’s sonophone. Her. He was looking at her!
“Ah. You must be Doctor Turin,” the tall man said. A light smile played on his lips, but his gaze never wavered. “I was just complementing your partner on your home; it is quite beautiful.”
“Th- thank you,” Turin managed. “You’ll have to excuse the clutter; we don’t get many visitors out here.”
“No, I imagine you don’t.” He spoke with a soft, wispy voice. “Ah, where are my manners? I am Juran, Head Extermination Officer for the Bendara district.” He bowed his head as he gave the introductions, giving the overall impression of a tree bending over to inspect its roots. “My compatriot here is Laenar. She’s an agriculturalist in Dimsbrook, just the other side of the mountains.”
“The Whip-reed oil business?” Braq asked Laenar as he leaned against the countertop.
“No, that’s the business in Daensbrook,” she replied. “We run the shoko fruitery, amongst other things.”
Juran turned away from them and loomed over the shelf, inspecting its contents.
“Why don’t you tell them why we’re here, Laenar?” The woman looked at her feet and swallowed.
“Our vineyard borders the Brackwood on the eastern side of the mountains,” she began, fidgeting with her claws. “A few days ago, my son was playing near the forest. He… he came screaming back to us of a d-dead animal. When we followed him to the…” Laenar swallowed again, balling her fists, and looked up at the couple with a cold indignation. “It was a bryyn foal. Something had killed and-” She shook her head, not able to finish the sentence.
“Nasty business,” Juran purred, looking side-eye at Braq. “The poor thing’s throat was torn out. Hm.” The officer pulled a book that had been placed upside down on the shelf and perused its contents for a moment before placing it back the right way up.
“We obviously took an interest in such a violent case,” he said turning back. “And imagine my surprise at learning that there was a pair of, ah, ecologists on the other side of these lovely mountains with breeding licenses for not one, but two species of predator?” A cold wind rattled through the forest, and the lodge was silent for a long moment. Does he blame us?! Turin thought.
“Is your son alright?” Braq asked. The woman threw her head.
“He’s traumatised,” she replied curtly. She looked around. “Do you have children?” Turin’s chest flared. Braq’s snout twitched.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“No,” she spat. Laenar grunted at that.
“Then pray you will never know what it is like to promise your child to sleep knowing they will find only nightmares.”
“If you’ve taken the time to read those licenses,” Turin said looking at Juran, her voice calmer than she felt, “You’ll know that neither of the predators we keep here are large enough to bring down a bryyn, even a foal.”
“Of course,” the thin man said with a thin smile. “But we thought we’d drop by anyway, to see what we could see.” Braq stood from the countertop.
“There’s a lot of land here, you could never see it all,” he said. “But we could show you the facilities here, our security, the monitor and vexise pens, and the incubators?”
“Splendid,” Juran said, looking to Laenar. “Doctor Braq could accompany Laenar here to inspect the security and the vexise, and I will go see the monitors and the incubators with Doctor Turin.” He clapped his paws together. “Lead on.”
Braq and Turin shared the briefest of looks at one another, but it was enough. Commit, she saw in his eyes. We’ll get through this.
Turin led the officer through the kitchen and up the stairs out of the back door. She walked between Juran and the pens, but his stature allowed him to look over her. Turin could see he looked in every single one.
“You’ve both been here some time, haven’t you?” he asked nonchalantly. Turin nodded, trying to remain casual. They were perhaps fifty paces from the pen with the pyq in it. “More than three years now.”
“And yet no children?” His expression was sombre when she recoiled from the blunt question. “My apologies, it is not my place. But perhaps you might forgive Laenar for being so, ah, forthright. Most people are unsettled by the idea of a predator, let alone that there are people who would care for them, or put them to work.” Twenty paces now. I must distract him somehow, but how?!
“You too seem nervous,” the scary man observed. When she could think of nothing to say he chuckled softly. Ten paces. “The eyes, yes? A, ah, trauma of birth, they tell me. Quite rare. Isn’t it a funny thing that such a scar—one that leaves no wound on the flesh—could be so offensive to people?” The look on his face transferred a terrible intensity to his words, and Turin found a small ember of pity for the man. But that ember died as he placed a paw on her shoulder and leaned over her until his face was far too close to hers. “But I like these eyes. They see much, and I’ve found that those who shy away from them are often lying.”
With a lurch in her stomach, Turin realised they’d stopped in front of the pen containing the pyq. He cannot know, she begged herself. Courage Turin, courage. She swallowed and met his gaze.
“How many predators do you keep on the property?” he asked.
“E- eighty-seven Shadow monitors, fourteen vexise,” Turin answered.
“Has a predator ever escaped?”
“Not to my kno-”
“Yes or no,” he breathed.
“No,” Turin replied quietly.
“Are the predators breeding? Answer freely.” He released her shoulder but remained where he stood.
“The monitors have hatched one generation, at great effort. The vexise still aren’t, we don’t know why.”
“What do you feed them?”
“Predator kibble. We’re hoping to move them up to live prey,” Turin said, her voice stronger now that he was not touching her. He blinked.
“Such as?”
“Stiplets. When their numbers grow too-”
“I am familiar with experimental agricultural practices,” he interrupted, leaning even closer; they were almost nuzzling. “One more question. Yes or no: are there any other predators on the estate?”
Turin’s world shrank to those chilling eyes. She was so close she could see the tiny features of his iris, waves of dark and pale blue, like a roaring hurricane in a frigid sea. You will not break me. She decreed. In her mind, she built a boat for herself between those waves with Braq at the rudder, a babe in her arms, and the wind of her conviction in her sails.
She would weather this storm.
“No,” she said firmly.
He stayed perfectly still for an eternity before he eventually rose with a smile. He nodded to the pen to Turin’s right.
“What’s happening in that pen?” he asked. A lance of ice tore through her heart, and her boat was almost submerged beneath a rogue wave. To her relief, Turin turned to see Boubou and the adult he had been playing with looking at the newcomer. The pyq is still in the pen at my back.
“W-we’ve found the juveniles learn faster when they’re playing with the adults,” she said.
“Hm.” He shrugged in acknowledgement and turned back towards the lodge. “I should remind you of the procedure for keeping more than one predator in the same unit, but I’m sure you know what you’re doing. Come, let us inspect your incubators.”
The tour of the incubators was over far more quickly, and Turin felt far more confident the further they were from the pens. Juran seemed surprised when they entered the incubator room. He must have been expecting a grander operation. Turin mused. He walked around the storage racks, and took in the rapid-ruined dingy, his pale eyes scrutinising every object as he went. He passed in front of the incubators and picked up the logbook still resting atop from whence the pyq had hatched not an hour prior.
After a few moments of flicking through the log, he held out a paw.
“This one’s warm,” he commented.
“We had one hatch this morning,” Turin replied honestly.
“Hm. Congratulations,” he drawled. After a moment more, he closed the book and returned it to where it had sat. “I’ve seen all I need to, let’s rejoin the others.”
Turin was more than happy to get these interlopers out of her home as they rejoined the others now waiting in the living room. Braq looked nervous. Juran stopped as they passed through the kitchen.
“Some light reading?” he asked, as he picked up Barudama’s Methods, safety, and monitoring of predators in containment that had been left on the countertop.
“You know it?” Braq asked. Turin could see the tension in his massive shoulders.
“It was required reading. There was a time when I could recite whole chapters, I have an excellent memory,” Juran replied coolly, snapping the book shut and offering it to Braq. “But in practice I’ve found his methods to be, ah… insufficient, wouldn’t you say?”
“Aye,” her partner replied, taking the book. “I’ve found that too.” The ice man blinked and offered a smile.
“Well, I suppose that’s everything,” he said.
“We’re just leaving?!” Laenar looked stupefied.
“Oh, I’m satisfied for now Laenar. They’ll keep an eye on this side of the mountains for us. And I’m sure they’ll reach out… should we be needed.” Juran looked around the room again, giving a show as if he was seeing it all for the first time. He smiled, “You really do have such a lovely home. Good day.”
The smile did not reach his eyes.
The couple watched them go in silence from the monitor.
~*~
A high-pitched umph, umph noise emanated from the bag, just audible above the roar of the buggy. It was late, midnight perhaps. Turin did not know, they had to do this before their courage failed. The wind whipped around them as they tore towards the rapids, and Turin was chilled beneath her fur.
They had discussed how to do it. Putting it in the incubator and turning the heat up. Dropping a rock on it. Burying it in the garden. But all the options seemed needlessly cruel and would not thoroughly hide the body. Besides, Turin thought. We’re no predators. We’re novices at murder.
Umph, umph. Umph, umph.
So they had settled on the rapids. An animal so small would not last long in such a current. The engine rattled into silence as they came to a stop on a rise overlooking the raging river. Here, in the first year of their exploration, they had dragged themselves battered and freezing from the water when the dingy had capsized then tore open. It had been a bright and sunny day, and the two had somehow found humour in their drenched and sorry state. But there were no smiles here.
Without the roar of the engine and the wind, the babe was now much louder. It’s keening pulled at Turin.
Umph, umph! Umph, umph!
They disembarked and Braq carried the bag toward the edge. The water thundered dark and icy around jagged rocks below, and the shadows, waves, and scattered starlight formed strange shapes in the water. For a moment Turin saw her boat riding the pale-eyed tempest. We must do this, her darkness reminded her. Must we? she replied. Braq said nothing as he held the bag over the raging rapids. His eyes were wide, and he shook from more than the cold.
Umph, umph!
“Wait!” Turin called out suddenly. Braq looked to her, and his grip tightened. He’s scared.
“W-we’ve got to do this Turin,” he said shakily. Umph, umph!
“We’re ecologists,” Turin replied, placing a paw upon his shoulder. “Not exterminators!” “I… I know that,” Braq said, “but what choice do we have?!”
“Th-the same one we made three years ago!” Braq shook his head.
“It’s a predator! A pyq!” Braq looked back to the bag. His grip slackened.
“No,” Turin replied, as she began to weep. “It’s a child.” Braq’s head jerked as if he had been struck, and he looked at her with profound sorrow as he too began to sob.
Umph, umph.
“I- I know it’s-s a-all you’ve ever w- wanted beloved. I’m s- sorry I can’t- t- t-, couldn’t t-” His dark brown eyes were wet and raw. Turin reached out and pulled the bag away from the edge and towards them. She nuzzled against him, and their tears mixed.
“It’s not your fault, lover.” She took the bag from him and untied it. Braq gasped between sobs as she reached in and pulled out the infant.
The pyq’s eyes were open now. It lay on its back between her paws, a long tail and lanky legs wrapped around itself. It had stopped umph-ing. The shock of looking a sapient predator, a pyq, in the face was drowned in the wonderous dusk of its eyes. The space around them was darker than the surrounding scaly skin, making the already large orbits seem greater still. The starlight was reflected in that dark space, as was Turin herself. A deep and lovely dark.
It watched her curiously, occasionally blinking slowly, or turning its head this way or that.
Braq turned away, not bearing to look at it. He wiped at his muzzle.
“What will we do with it?” he asked, sniffling.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose we’ll have to care for it.”
“And hide it from the whole damn galaxy?” Braq said. “A pyq is no pet. It will grow, and when it does it will kill and eat people.” The little predator began to sniff around Turin’s palm and, keeping its eyes open, curled up against her claws.
“What did we learn today Braq?” she asked, sniffling against her tears.
“Not to deal with Dirk,” he mumbled. She half-laughed half-sobbed at that.
“No,” she replied, “we learned that the monitors aren’t just born with an innate savagery. They must learn what they do.” Braq turned his head but still did not look at the baby.
“We too learn, don’t we?” she continued, her voice stronger now with certainty. “Be it from teachers, or priests, or… parents.” Braq turned.
“You’re proposing we raise a predator as a radji? As prey?” her partner asked. “You can feed a vexise all the grain you want, and it will still starve.”
“Good thing we have an ample supply of predator kibble, and a booming population of stiplets that need putting in check.” Braq shook his head.
“But then it would still be a predator,” he said, stepping towards them. “Suppose we raised it, taught it all we knew. Taught it to be a scientist and the importance of nature itself. It would still have to kill, inflict suffering, just to keep alive. It would still be a predator.”
“Aye. But imagine if it was still a person despite that?” Turin said, looking down at the small thing sheltered in her paws. “Capable of love, and empathy? Of joy and hope? What would that mean then? What would it mean for the millions of dead on either side of this endless conflict, if both were victims?”
“It’s a hell of a hypothesis,” her husband sighed and half-hugged her as they looked down at the infant pyq. It looked up at Braq, and as the stars twinkled above, Turin saw them both reflected in that shining night.
---
“Look not in my eyes, for fear
Thy mirror true the sight I see,
And there you find your face too clear
And love it and be lost like me.”
– A Shropshire Lad. A.E. Housman, 1896.