Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, United Nations Fleet Command
Date [standardized human time]: January 16, 2137
The cryopods were in a separate, unmarked chamber, hidden behind a false wall in the hallway. Archivist Veiq rubbed her damp nose, and her drooping ears bunched with apprehension. That Farsul seemed more nervous than when the Terran soldiers busted down her door with guns; perhaps she knew that soldier predators were civilized, informed, and in-control. I considered telling my companions that we should refrain from waking the captives until we had a plan to subdue them. However, the likelihood of offending my human friends deterred me from raising my concerns.
Frost-lined glass covers were draped over the oval containers, revealing placid-looking predators. I squinted for any sign of battle scars; assessing each one’s potential threat level would require knowledge of their killing experience. These were humans that desapientized their own kind, so how could we expect them to have the slightest concern for alien lifeforms, like Onso and myself? The Yotul looked unafraid of these primitive Terrans, probably because he was a primitive himself. He didn’t understand the critical shifts in Earthlings’ morals and behavior over the years.
I count a few dozen humans in stasis, more than the soldiers we have here. This could turn into a stampede or a rampage easily…or they’ll have to gun down their ancient civilians.
Tyler waved his barrel at Veiq. “Wake them up. Unharmed, or so help me God, I’ll kill you.”
“Understood,” the Farsul breathed. “They’re going to freak out.”
“No shit! You kidnapped them and put them to sleep for a hundred fucking years!”
“We were trying to save your species—”
“Why don’t you worry about saving your own hide? Open the fucking pods, NOW! UN forces, I want every person to take a pod. Reassure these poor souls, be clear and concise explaining what’s going on, and get them back to our ship.”
The Farsul archivist tapped away at a central control console, eyes glimmering with worry. Carlos and Samantha heeded Tyler’s orders, and each found a spot next to a pod. Onso bounced up to a container of his own, inspecting it from every angle with blind enthusiasm. I stood frozen, nervous to be within grappling change of an awoken beast. The Yotul noticed my failure to follow the orders, and gestured with his tail to an unguarded pod.
“Maybe I should sit this one out,” I offered. “I’m an alien. That might agitate them, and I don’t really know how to handle humans, uh…”
Samantha curled her lip. “Get your ass over there. The least you could do is pretend to care about us, Sovlin.”
“I do care about you. But I also know how humans from this time period conducted themselves.”
“Is there a problem?” Tyler swiveled around, and exasperation flashed in his icy eyes. “We’re the same species now as we were then. I don’t expect people I serve alongside to see us as mindless predators.”
“Yes, sir. Of course you’re not; I’m just thinking of the Federation’s dossier of your wars. I reviewed it with Recel when Marcel…forgive me. I’m going.”
I ducked my head in sheepish fashion, and scurried within a capsule’s proximity against my will. My heart rate ratcheted up, peering down at the snoozing predator. His arms were connected to wires and folded across his unmoving chest. This Terran seemed young, with unblemished skin that was more pale than Tyler’s; his mane was a brown fringe that swept past his eyebrows. At least I hadn’t gotten a particularly imposing specimen, but a Gojid wasn’t cut out to interact with these creatures.
The fog on the glass cleared up, and offered an unrestricted look at the predator’s face. The color began to return to the ancient human’s skin, and his bluish lips morphed back to a healthy pink. Veiq continued pressing buttons, and stepped away as every pod’s lid unsealed. I resisted the itch to draw my weapon; Tyler wouldn’t appreciate me holding this primitive at gunpoint. It was important to remember that these weren’t the presentable Terrans I had come to love. These were lawless hunters who lived in a harsh society, with few amenities and no knowledge of alien life.
The brown-haired human’s chest showed signs of movement, which gradually gained stability. His eyelids twitched, and his nostrils flared. I took an instinctive step backward, uncertain whether he’d try to strangle me. My remaining spines were at full bristle; the sick feeling almost mirrored my first encounter with Marcel. The predator’s binocular eyes snapped open, a startling amber hue, and panic flashed in them. He snapped upright in an uncanny motion.
I barely muffled my scream; every impulse in my brain wanted to plead for mercy. His pupils were trained on me, and he seemed equally frightened by my presence. My fear subsided to some degree, as the human shrank away from me. His breathing became panicked, and his hands wrapped around himself in a self-soothing gesture. The predator pressed against the back of the pod, hugging his legs to his chest.
“Oh God.” The Terran’s unusual eyes welled with tears, and his tone was rich with hyperventilation. Other waking specimens were showing signs of panic attacks, or blindly bursting from their pods. “Oh God. What the fuck?”
Clear and concise. Tell him what’s going on, and pray this is a sapient that’s capable of reasoning.
“Easy.” My words caused his brow to furrow, and he cradled his skull in his hands. That must be his first time acquiring meaning from the translator implant, which the Farsul must’ve installed after his capture. “I’m here to rescue you. My name is Sovlin…do you have a name?”
“H-hunter.” Oh Protector! His name is literally ‘hunter’; these are primitive, predator-exalting humans. But he sounds scared of me, which is odd. “Where am I? What the fuck are you?”
“You were kidnapped by aliens—er, not me or my kind! There’s two precursor races who meddled with lots of primitive cultures…yours, mine. My entire planet got glassed, uh, not that you asked, but I joined up with humans after that. You see all the human soldiers around here? I work for Earth.”
“…kidnapped by aliens? I remember camping, and a rustling noise…something sharp hit my neck and…why? What did they do? How can you work for Earth? Take me home!”
Hunter was growing hysterical, and his hands were shaking. I listened to his sniffling, feeling pity begin to replace my fear. However dangerous this captive might be, it was clear his narrow-minded brain was overwhelmed; the questions he posed were understandable, in light of waking up in a strange place. Hesitantly, I inched toward him, and he tensed up like I was going to hurt him. Why would an apex predator see me as dangerous?
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The news I was about to break might shatter his world; everything and everyone he knew was long gone. Perhaps showing empathy would convince him not to stampede or show aggression? Hunter deserved some amount of comfort, after what he’d been through. I placed a paw on the shudderingly-named human’s shoulder, and brought him into a cautious embrace. He wailed incoherently, sobbing into my fur. His mane and his pink-and-white claws were pristine even up close, to my amazement.
Shockingly nonviolent. How can an ancient human, who has no idea what’s going on, be acting like the benevolent souls today? Maybe the historical ones weren’t as barbaric as I thought.
“It’s okay. We’re going to take you home, now. You’re doing great,” I soothed.
Hunter drew a mucous-addled breath. “You’re…an alien. Why can I understand you?”
“The bastards who captured you injected a translator, I think. Listen, what I’m about to tell you is upsetting, but it’s the truth. I don’t know how I can help, given the circumstances—all I can promise, I’ll do whatever I can. Do you really want to know what happened?”
The unfrozen human nodded. “P-please.”
“Aliens called the Farsul captured you, and have been keeping you frozen for future experiments. They’ve been waking up small batches of captives for centuries, so, um, Earth isn’t the Earth you remember. The solar year is 2137. Humans are an interstellar species, at war with the Farsul-Kolshian conspiracy, because they meddled with your world and everyone else’s. We located this base, and we’re here to rescue you and expose the culprits. Does that make sense so far?”
“Yes…and n-no. Why would anyone want to experiment on us—on me? Has it really been…my family is dead, if it’s been centuries. Oh God, this isn’t happening…”
“I know this is a lot, Hunter.” I really wish he had a different name. Do not say ‘predator’, Sovlin, you don’t want Hunter thinking about hunting. “Much of the galaxy perceives humans as evil and violent. These guys tried to genetically ‘cure’ you, like they did to my race centuries ago. After that failed, they joined the crowd that wants you extinct.”
“They think we’re evil because of the wars.”
“And because you’re a predator race,” Onso yipped, unsolicited.
Oh, damn you, uplift. Now you’ve done it.
Hunter’s head snapped over to the Yotul. The marsupial had gotten his own human out of her pod, and from the bits I overheard, he’d been hypothesizing over its engineering to her. My primitive Terran groaned, spotting the reddish-furred alien; his amber gaze darted around the room. I could sense that the primate wanted little more than to curl up under a rock and disappear, which meant he wasn’t intending to harm me. However, I was worried predator talk would push him toward his name’s origin.
“Predator race?” the brown-haired beast echoed.
I heaved a weary sigh. “You…hunt, Hunter. Your eyes face forward. The galaxy’s only other predator race eats and enslaves people.”
“That’s…fucking disgusting.” I’m glad, yet a little surprised, he feels that averse to the Arxur. “Do they eat humans?”
“No.”
“Do they eat…your kind?”
“Gojids? Yeah, um, back when I was a starship captain, they…no, wait, you didn’t ask about my personal life. I apologize for my indiscretion.”
“Go on, if you want to. I can hear the pain in your voice.”
“Well, I was on a video call…which is a remote communication where you can see each other…with my family from my starship. They were eaten alive as I watched, and I couldn’t lift a claw to help. You can say I’ve had to work through some fears and hatred to get used to humans.”
Hunter’s face contorted with what I’d come to recognize as the Terran expression of sympathy. My spines began to settle down, and I decided that he didn’t constitute a threat. It was surprising how little his behavior aligned with the savage cruelty, or at best, indifference, I expected from pre-FTL humanity. So much for what my therapist said about them being a territorial, aggressive species. Their dark past was almost worsened by how similar these primitives seemed to modern Earthlings.
I thought humans had changed, and that they attained a higher degree of empathy as civilization advanced. Yet this poorly-named predator still pities me, even as his reality is in shambles.
“I’m so sorry,” he growled. “That must still weigh on you. I can’t even process my family being…gone, in what was an instant for me. I think it’s going to hit me like a freight train later.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry for what happened to you too. We have to make the best of our circumstances now, and maybe, along the way, get a bit of revenge.”
“Revenge. Man, I’m just a college student…does my university still exist anymore? They all must’ve assumed I was dead; I bet it killed Ma.”
“Er, depends on the city, I imagine. Long story there that involves the war. Anyhow, if you wanted, the United Nations might be able to locate some relatives. You could still have people, and maybe there’s records of what happened with any loved ones you remember.”
“Why bother? The descendants are gonna be my great-great-great something or another. My family, the one I know and care about, is long dead.”
“It’s closure. Sure, it’s mainly a chance to know your future kin, and protect your family lineage. But it’s also a chance to preserve your loved ones’ memory. That’s part of why I persist—delaying a world where nobody remembers my little girl. And I tell myself there’s a non-zero chance I’ll feel happiness again, some day. You’re much younger than me. It won’t be easy, but you can make a life for yourself.”
“As if. I’ll be a shoe on the wrong foot. Won’t know anything about the culture, and my qualifications probably don’t mean shit anymore. What can I possibly do with myself?! What is there for me on Earth?”
“I don’t know how curious humans were back in your times, but you could start by learning about all the alien lifeforms and customs. It’s a chance to discover something new, that nobody else from your era ever saw. To pass on your slice of history to the galaxy.”
“But how do I do that? I don’t think I can handle this shit. I’m no use to anyone.”
“That’s not true. The United Nations is short on manpower, so all extra hands ease the burden—no matter what capacity you’re in. Start with small steps, Hunter. You don’t have to have all the answers today.”
“Small steps. Yeah, okay. Do you have something in mind? I need to keep my brain occupied.”
“Well, why don’t you come with us? We’re going to sweep the archives. You can help me out just by tagging along. I…would like to know how these Farsul fuckers changed the history of Gojidkind, but it also scares me a little.”
“Why?”
“I’m worried it’ll be as disturbed as your history. Or what was the present, for you.”
“…fair, honestly. Okay then. I’ll follow you, Sovlin.”
Most of the awakened humans were being taken back to the submarine, to be tended to in relative safety. I could hear chatter over the radio, as other groups of UN soldiers landed to aid a full sweep of the Archives. The Terran military was also launching a communications buoy, to ensure that UN command above Talsk received news of this debacle. If Hunter requested to accompany us, I didn’t see why Tyler would object to it. This living relic of the past could be the best chance I had to understand the nature of predators.
Maybe human nature is to toe the line between great beneficence and unfathomable depravity. The choice is theirs—yet unwritten in history, with far-reaching implications for all life.
Onso perked his ears up. “I’m going with the group back to the ship, old man. Then, if I can choose my assignment, we’re finding the Yotul room. It’ll be wonderful to cleanse the Federation’s influence from our culture, for good.”
“Okay. I hope you find what you need on that, but I won’t be joining you. Assuming Tyler gives us the go-ahead, Hunter and I are looking into the Gojids’ past,” I muttered.
“We’re coming with you.” Samantha had materialized behind me, a steely look in her forest-green eyes. The biowarfare mask made her appear like a machine. “Carlos and I have gone through hell with you. We’re not going to let you decide you’re a monster. Your therapist has enough of a headache with you already.”
Hunter pointed to her mask. “That’s a…do I need one of those?”
“Yeah, we’ll fetch you one. You should be good for now. It doesn’t sound like they inject the cure until they launch a ‘new batch,’” Carlos chimed in.
Before proceeding deeper into the Archives, and prying beyond the scope of actions conducted against Earth, I needed authorization for my plan from my superior. Tyler could be asked to provide Hunter with proper gear; knowing the blond officer, he would permit the ancient Terran to tag along with me. Seeing all of humanity, past and present, as more than predators was exactly what he had asked.
With the identity of every Federation species in the balance, it was our moral duty to unearth all of the Farsul’s crimes against sapience.