Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: January 14, 2137
Human and Kolshian casualties escalated, as the firefight raged on in the tight corridor. The enemy had shifted their tentacled forms behind cover, and their response was measured. I was impressed with their levelheadedness under the circumstances. My claws popped off covering shots, while Marcel pried a panel open, with his bare fingers, for us to duck behind.
It was shabby cover, but it was better than nothing. The two of us awkwardly situated our rifles, and peppered the Kolshians with fire. Our foes had found a robust set of tanks and storage containers to crowd behind, daring humans to charge straight into a stream of bullets. UN transports had breached in other areas of the station too; at least, that would discourage the enemy from summoning backup to one locale. Even with just the forces present, I wasn’t sure how the predators could flush our opponents from their resilient fortifications.
“Fucking hell, Slanek!” Marcel adjusted his helmet; his eyes darted from side to side, searching for a strategy. “There’s only one way into the living areas of the station, and it’s through them.”
I found a careless indigo leg poking out behind cover, and steadied my aim with a cue to Marcel. My bullet zipped toward its mark, tearing through the flabby flesh. A howl of pain could be faintly heard through the deafening exchange of gunfire, and the Kolshian’s leg buckled. The human was ready to finish my kill, when the hobbled enemy toppled into the open. My best friend placed a clean shot through their brain as soon as they hit the floor.
I drew some ragged gasps. “There’s a dozen of them, give or take, and I don’t think grenades’ll do much here, in all that clutter. We just gotta keep shooting them.”
The predator popped off a series of shots, making sure to keep his head below the ajar panel. Our impromptu cover was impairing our sightlines a bit, though in this case, I was sure the binocular eyes helped him focus on a narrow range of vision. Marcel stole peeks at the areas the Kolshians hunkered down in, risking the elevated sightlines for a few seconds. A wicked smile crossed his face, and that murderous delight sent a chill down my spine.
“What if we didn’t shoot them?” the human asked.
I watched in confused silence, as Marcel’s aim crept away from the soldiers. I couldn’t tell what he was looking at; there was little more than clutter and pipes in the shaft. He closed one binocular eye, and inhaled through his stomach for several seconds. It was easy to picture him as a hunter crouched in the grass, checking that his aim was true.
His finger hooked around the trigger, and as a result, a small flame appeared from a stout tank. It seemed to be the standard emergency oxygen supply, which could be used to fill spacesuits in the event of an emergency or required maintenance. The flaming tank violently failed, creating a chain of high-pressure flames from others nearby. Screams came from the sheltering Kolshians, and a series of explosions sounded down the tunnel.
The Kolshians flailed about from within the blazes; they were easy targets for the predators to mop up. Human soldiers backed their wounded deeper into the tunnel, ensuring that they were clear of the blasts. A handful of our troops had the good sense to deploy fire retardant measures, and managed to quell the blazes after several minutes. The station’s built-in fire suppression systems helped, with overhead sprinklers drenching us. Marcel pressed two gloved fingers to his forehead, before snapping them down with a sly grin.
Why engage in a tough gunfight with unclear results, when you can incinerate the enemy? Humans…so observant, under extreme stress. That’s my best friend there!
I absorbed the shouted reports being passed around, and took the cue to move forward. We’d cleared the path into the living areas with an unusual tactic; that meant we could discover what happened to the station’s inhabitants, and what the Kolshians were up to. It was possible that we’d encounter mangled human corpses. Sympathy swelled in my chest for the civilian Terrans trapped here, trying to protect their friends.
“Stay alert, Slanek,” Marcel murmured. “These are conniving fuckers; I wouldn’t put traps, or even a dead man’s switch, past them. If they can’t have these Dossur, they might decide nobody can.”
I flicked my ears. “Killing a bunch of your kind might be a worthy sacrifice to them, using civilians as bait. I understand the risks.”
The Terrans unfastened the locking mechanisms on the trapdoor out of the service shaft, and we climbed out of the ceiling hatch in a hurry. There was a ladder that could be taken, but waiting for each person to descend the rungs would waste time. I hopped down after Marcel, rolling the rough landing on the metal floor. Several predator heads whipped around, checking for signs of enemy engagement; leaders spread their men in anticipation of hostile contact.
Kolshian footsteps hurried down the narrow hallway, no doubt having heard the thuds of heavy primates’ boots landing. We capitalized on the few seconds to ready ourselves, and a dozen guns sang out to mow the hostiles down with prejudice. The enemy didn’t even have a chance to employ their own weapons; it was a mere four security guards, versus a sizable group of humans.
I kept my head low, as we jogged through the hallway. A series of empty rooms greeted us; this area wasn’t bustling with activity. Kolshian reinforcements weren’t hustling to our sector, after how quickly we picked apart their entrenched defenses. So far, the battle was going as well as could be expected. We needed to locate some civilians, and start to evac victims, while our comrades kept the pressure on in other compartments.
“Why don’t we check the med bay?” I shouted. “That’s a logical place to start for reeducation.”
Just like that Takkan doctor, Zarn, that wanted to whisk me off.
A human leader narrowed his eyes. “Not a bad idea, Vennie. How do we locate the medical areas?”
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“This seems to be the mess halls, game rooms, lounges, and so on. If it’s a standard design, we're adjacent to the personal quarters now,” I explained. “Work stuff will likely be closer to the center, with the medical areas having a separate wing. There should be signs of a raised paw pad—the doctor symbol, like your red cross.”
“Very well. Lead the way, since you seem to know the ins and outs.”
I scampered to the front of the pack, with hesitancy; it was a bit unnerving to feel the predators tailing me, and to know their guns were at my back. My own weapon was ready in my grip, as I turned left down the hall. My eyes were peeled for any sign of the doctor’s symbol or a directory. It took minutes walking past several spaces, devoid of any souls, to encounter a paw pad sign.
I tossed my head, indicating for the Terrans to follow down the dimly-lit corridor. The silence was eerie, so I strained my ears for any sign of noise. The sounds of pained screams, the unmistakable wail of a human, stopped me dead in my tracks. I could detect the noise ahead, though the Terran soldiers had yet to catch on.
“Do you hear that?” I hissed. “Screams.”
Our senior enlisted leader turned his ear, before his eyes widened. “Double time! Move it, people. Split up if needed; clear every room of civilians, yesterday!”
The predators’ long legs left me in the dust, as they hoofed it in the direction of their people. With the agonized cries to attract them, the guidance of a Venlil was no longer needed. I sprinted as quickly as I could, but Marcel scooped me up in his arms before I got far. My human rushed in the noise’s direction, and set me down once we reached the labs.
His hazel eyes scanned for rooms that hadn’t been cleared, and he pointed to a small lab. The lights could be seen flicking off from under the door, giving away that someone was in there. It wasn’t clear if it was an enemy, but the humans and the Dossur should be pleading for rescue, not hiding. Marcel pressed his shoulder against the wall, and at his signal, I kicked the door open for him.
I filtered in behind the muscular predator, who was bellowing commands in a bone-chilling tone to get on the ground. Two Kolshians dismounted stools on Marcel’s orders, though without the fear befitting someone’s first encounter with an enraged human. Microscopes sat abandoned on the counters, with cell slides up for examination. These seemed like unarmed scientists; their raised tentacles suggested they were trying to surrender.
After the false surrender at the Tilfish extermination office, I was wary of these aliens. However, the Kolshians were compliant in sprawling out on the ground. Marcel carried only a single pair of handcuffs, and cursed to himself. He ordered me to watch one, as he snapped plastic bands around the other’s arms. The scientists didn’t try any dirty tricks, looking a little amused by the human’s unwillingness to kill them.
I’m anything but amused. Why is Marcel taking prisoners, when they clearly deserve death?
Marcel threw an occasional glance at the handcuffed enemy, until he found a roll of tape lying around. He wrapped it around the second prisoner’s arms, and seemed dissatisfied with the level of restraints. His rosy lips pressed together, weighing his options. I was weary of him showing mercy to those who didn’t deserve it, Sovlin being the most egregious example.
“Alright, Slanek. We’re gonna take these fuckers for questioning.” The red-haired Terran wiped perspiration from his brow, and hoisted the cuffed Kolshian to her feet. “Keep an eye on that one until I return. I’ll be back quick as I can, after handing this jackass off to our team.”
Marcel hustled out of the room with a prisoner in tow. I bit back my disdain, keeping my gun focused on the Kolshian. If this scientist wanted to tempt me to shoot them, I was happy to oblige. From the sound of the screams I’d heard, it was a safe assumption this outfit was responsible for torturing humans. My contemptful gaze studied the tape on the lavender tentacles, and the thing dared to ask me a question.
“Do you have a name, Venlil?” the Kolshian queried.
Anger caused my grip on the gun to tighten. “Yes, but you don’t get to use it.”
“My name is Navarus. You want to question me on what we did here? Oh, I’d love to spell it all out for you and any of those ugly-eyed freaks. We can take away everything that makes them unique…that makes them predators, in a flash.”
“What did you do?! You fucking monster!”
“Ah, it’s funny. You depress their central nervous systems, they grow sleepy and confused. They barely even know who they are; good-bye violent demons. We only tried that on twenty-five percent of the group, to measure the effects of the cure with and without it. A control group is scientific.”
“The cure? You didn’t.”
Navarus bared his teeth with aggression, a clear gesture of hostility compared to humanity’s snarl. He nodded his head toward a set of computer monitors, which showed Terrans languishing in small rooms. It was easy to tell which ones were drugged out of their minds; others were presenting with physical symptoms. Watching him revel in using predator civilians for his experiments made my blood boil. What right did they have to erase their dietary…leanings?
I can’t say I like the predators tearing into a pound of flesh, but they would do this to people like Tyler. Even after he brought Sovlin on our rescue, I don’t think he deserves to be experimented on, without any regard for side effects or discomfort.
I couldn’t imagine humanity without their fervor, reduced to little more than prey. This was what would’ve happened to Earth, if the Kolshians realized centuries ago that the primates could be converted. The only solace was that the scientists hadn’t gone after their eyes, or inflicted significant wounds. More fury threatened to overtake me, as I began to wonder what they planned to use this research for.
“Some of them are vomiting, but we’re inclined to believe it’s not from the cure,” Navarus continued. “It’s mainly from the ones on the higher doses of the depressants. And these humans react much more positively to herbivory than the prideful Arxur, which was surprising. Our previous hypothesis was that predators are too arrogant to sustain themselves on leaves.”
I swished my tail in indignation. “Some of them choose to only eat leaves! You know nothing about humans, and you treat them like animals.”
“Yes, it might be worth keeping a few around, with significant modifications. Something salvageable. We confirmed that the cure prohibits them from flesh-eating, so now, they don’t have the option to eat living creatures.”
“How did you confirm that?!”
“Ah, we fed one of them its own rations. Was hysterical, watching it asphyxiate and turn all red. We’re all born into the government caste, kept away from broader society, working in secret…wasn’t anything I chose. But getting to make a predator die by its own cruelty, for the good of sapient life? Had I a choice, I would’ve chosen this work for that alone.”
Ringing surfaced in my ears, and fury made it difficult to string thoughts together. This Kolshian deserved to die, after bragging about genetically modifying, drugging, and killing human civilians. This was the species that I lived among on Earth, and fought battles alongside. Anyone who would condemn them to be “cured” deserved to be cured of their living status.
I was tired of letting monsters, who sought Terran suffering with glee, live and receive luxurious rights. My rifle raised, and I jammed the barrel against Navarus’ temple. The Kolshian had the audacity to laugh in my face; all I could think was how gratifying it would be to end his existence. A growl rumbled in my throat, and the predatory nature of that cue surprised me.
“Go ahead! Do it,” the enemy scientist barked. “You don’t have it in you.”
I pressed the gun deeper into his…no, its skull. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I am. You Venlil are the weakest species in the galaxy. You couldn’t stand up for yourselves against a Dossur using their whiskers as a knife! Just look how scared—”
I tugged the trigger in a swift motion, putting an end to the Kolshian’s condescending speech. The scientist’s brains were expelled from its skull, and blood splattered onto my fur. I stared in cold silence as the body slumped to the floor.