Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps

Date [standardized human time]: September 23, 2136

I stirred to an array of screams, chaotic and unhinged; the perishing squeals of prey falling at a predator’s claws. My ears keyed in to pounding pawsteps on the grass. Those were unmistakable thumps of animals running around in terror. Bullet spurts were also a constant, cropping up from both scattered Terran friendlies and lucid Gojids.

I’m alive, and I think I’m in one-piece. Hooray?

By the looks of it, the enemy were fleeing from a military base by the hundreds. It seemed to be a fifty-fifty split, which of the Gojids were fighting and which were on the run.

All the sentries and watchtowers, set up to counter a previous Arxur siege, were useless against an aerial drop. It was embarrassingly easy for the Terran forces to take control of the military institution, and continue to expand their perimeter. There was no organized response like the humans expected from a predominant Federation power.

No one accounted for predators falling from the sky, and landing smack dab in the middle of their fortresses. Many Gojid soldiers were in a panic; several had tossed their weapons aside, even as officers tried to restore order. A few individuals were lying prostrate on the ground. Others ran for seemingly unharmed ground vehicles, only to find the devious humans slashed their tires.

Anyone who fled to buildings for shelter was tracked by a Terran breach team. Predatory soldiers flushed their quarry out, adept in the art of clearing structures. Their arboreal roots only bolstered their mastery of ground warfare; there was no safe haven amidst their shocking incursion.

The Gojids at least had a chance against the Arxur. They could shoot down their shuttles, scout for their traps, and prepare for their advances, I thought. This is something else. This degree of surprise factor will only work once.

It was horrifying to look around at the enemy corpses littering the premises. Many were riddled with bullets, mowed down without remorse by the ravenous Terran troopers. The ghastly sights, of organs perforating skin and blood pooling from agonized soldiers, sickened me to the core. Predators were simply everywhere, corralling their prey to perfection.

Was this really what humans practiced throughout their history? Was that disposition hard-wired into their DNA?

“Slanek, you’re awake!” Tyler’s voice came from behind me, making me jump. “Take it easy, at least until the drugs wear off. We’ll get you a pistol when you’re more alert.”

Panic seized at my heart. “Where is Marcel?!”

“Over there,” he replied, pointing.

Marcel was laying on his side with a communicator pressed to his face. A scoped rifle was tucked under his armpit, poised to pick off any Gojids attempting to return to the battle. The human found a group of enemy soldiers assembling out of his range, and watched with unblinking eyes. He barked out coordinates in a throaty snarl.

A small aircraft, which didn’t seem large enough to fit a pilot, descended over the enemy gathering. Its dimensions were minuscule enough to evade Gojid air defenses. I assumed it was… some sort of Terran murder robot?

Sure enough, kinetic fire rained down with incessant whirring, followed by a succinct missile explosion. Smoke accumulated in the air, as body parts, guts, and earth were dispelled from the epicenter. The humans didn’t want the enemy to have time to form ranks or generate a plan.

“This is their military?” Marcel muttered. “When we landed and their fellow soldiers started to be taken out around them…there was just mass panic. I don’t understand.”

“You’re seeing true fear. Everything becomes a free-for-all, and you lose your sense of self,” I growled. “Forget reason, or thought; you’re just drowning.”

The concept of a stampede was intuitive as blinking or breathing, to any decent-sized herbivore. In situations where bizarre and unanticipated threats took hold, it was easy to sink into a mindless daze. Feeling surrounded, races of notable intelligence were reduced to a herd of primitive animals.

Every instinct demands to run, but you don’t know where to run to. One person races off in a direction, and pandemonium erupts. Everyone follows their lead, because they don’t know what else to do. Individuals like me, with an inclination to freeze, often got trampled as collateral.

When I joined the Venlil Space Corps, a good chunk of our training was dedicated to overriding our flighty instincts. Virtual reality simulations of the Arxur, closing in on all sides, were common. A commander couldn’t manage a total breakdown of military order, with soldiers fleeing the battlefield in droves.

The predators startling the young Gojid conscripts, and simultaneously closing off escape routes, set up the perfect scenario for a stampede. Honestly, that was where large herbivores were at their most dangerous. Raw instinct could encourage groups to plow through the threat. Humans concentrated fire on any Gojid clusters charging, causing them to turn away.

“I hope you can forgive me for dragging you out a spacecraft, against your will.” Marcel pursed his lips. “It wasn’t my first choice.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt.” My ears laid back against my head, unsettled by the notion. “That would’ve been awful, to wake up and find that out.”

“Aw,” Tyler purred, with a monstrous grin. “The Venlil are really sweet, aren’t they? I kind of want one.”

“Don’t phrase it like that. Venlil are good companions, but they’re not something you fucking own,” my predator growled.

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Despite their chatter, neither of the humans’ eyes left the battlefield. A group of Gojid soldiers were hiding behind a large tree, a few hundred paces away. These hostiles retained their wits enough to shoot at any Terrans in the vicinity. Stray rounds impacted the hillock, whiskers shy of our position, and forced the predators to hunker down.

Marcel’s breathing hitched, and his gun barrel swiveled in slight increments. Calling in the coordinates would waste precious seconds; the primate thought he could take the shot himself. One finger crept over the trigger, as a hint of a smirk tugged at his face. Was my friend enjoying this skirmish? Perhaps as much as those “video games?”

There is another side to him, to all of humanity, that I didn’t appreciate. I’d be curious if we ran those famed brain experiments, right now. Their aggression is concerning. They look…hungry.

Tyler followed his partner’s lead, pressing his chin into the dirt. The blond-haired male lined up his own shot, and the two humans synced their motions. Ever the cooperative pack predators, they placed a pair of bullets through their targets’ heads in quick succession.

I recoiled in disgust as I saw how pleased the Terrans were with themselves. There shouldn’t be anything enjoyable about murder.

“Base air defenses are disabled and under UN control. Unit 13, proceed into the Gojid merchant settlement. We expect hostile reinforcements by nightfall.” A male voice on the other end of the radio crackled to life. “Commence occupation of the city, and establish a base of operations when the area is secure. Be advised civilians are fleeing en masse.”

My jaw almost dropped to the dirt. Why was the Terran commander advising his troops of the civilians fleeing? So they could pick them off or intercept them? Those were families vacating their homes with tiny children; terrified people who didn’t want to end up as a predator’s evening supper.

“Slanek, the CO said that so we use discretion which targets we shoot. It’s difficult to tell a fleeing civilian from an army coward right now.” Marcel grunted, without even turning his head. “Sometimes, I wonder what you think we are. The only civilians we want are political figures.”

I blinked in confusion. Did I say that out loud? I was certain I hadn’t. It was almost like the human could read my mind; my thoughts must be quite transparent. Most likely, the unnerved emotions had showed on my face. This warfare business left me shaken up, since it showcased the ruthless predator in them all.

“W-why are you invading the settlement then?” I stammered.

“Seizing this particular city will disrupt their supply chain. Forcing a surrender is what we want, without a long-term conflict. We can’t occupy every square inch of the planet. We have to be selective with our targets.”

The two humans dusted themselves off, and crawled back down the grassy knoll. My heartbeat raced as we packed in with the rest of their unit; many dilated eyes turned toward me with interest. In stark contrast to the vessels I served on, there was not a single soldier panicking or crying. There was an unnatural amount of composure and structure.

My mind wandered as we exited the north gate, trundling toward the walled settlement. Ground vehicles, which my human explained had been “airdropped” as well, served as an armored method to clear the path. It was a short ride to the city outskirts. There was so much carnage; I saw a handful of Terrans dragging an enemy away with a bag over their head.

“What are you doing with the surrendering Gojids? And the wounded ones?” I blurted.

“You see the people with the red cross band on their sleeves? Those are medics,” Tyler explained. “If you get hurt by those spiky freaks, God forbid, go see them.”

Marcel sighed. “Anyone who surrenders is being held as a prisoner. We’re treating any human and Gojid soldiers still alive.”

Our procession rolled to an unforeseen halt. Tree branches, barricades, and spike strips were laid out in a desperate attempt to obstruct the road. The Terrans disembarked their vehicles, and Marcel propped my paws around his neck to spare me from walking. My stomach lurched as I got a glimpse inside the settlement.

There were two routes out of the city, according to the maps Venlil intelligence provided. The main gate was large enough to fit three vehicles side-by-side; with tens of thousands of people trying to evacuate, it turned into a bottleneck.

Civilian corpses were splayed by the gates, and others were beaten badly enough to be immobilized. Many of the bodies were children, with skulls cracked open and limbs shattered to pieces. Half-conscious individuals staggered or crawled away from the approaching soldiers.

They were “fish in a barrel”, as the Terrans say. Did the predators do this? Was Marcel lying about his commander’s intent?

I realized as we drew closer that several of the cuts looked like clawmarks, and that pawprints were stamped into the blood pools. This was the aftermath of a citywide stampede, not a predatory massacre. The inhabitants' desperation to escape, before the predators' arrival, was something I could only imagine. The humans, to their credit, didn’t seem jubilant about the civilian casualties.

“Holy shit,” Tyler breathed.

Marcel lowered his rifle. “What kind of parent leaves their child behind, Slanek? To bleed out in the streets.”

I bowed my head in shame. “I thought you guys did that for a second. I’m sorry.”

My human ignored me with a huff, and marched over to one of the Gojid children. She was crying for her mother, while tears poured down her face. Her leg was pulverized from prolonged trampling, and cuts laced across her body.

Marcel knelt beside the kid, removing his helmet with slow motions. “Hi, sweetie. I’m Marcel. What’s your name?”

“D-don’t eat me! HELP! MOMMY!” she sobbed.

“Nobody is going to hurt you.” The human removed a Venlil plushy with oversized features from his duffel bag. He handed it to the child, a patient look in his eyes. “What’s your name?”

I wasn’t even going to ask why the primate was carrying that toy on his person. The Gojid toddler eyed it with suspicion, before hugging the soft fluff against her body. My presence, riding on the scary predator’s back, might serve as a soothing factor as well.

“Nulia,” she said with a sniffle. “My mom says you’re bad people.”

“That’s a pretty name, Nulia. Parents are wrong about lots of things,” Marcel replied.

Nulia whined in pain. “Where did you get those scars, Mawsle? You look mean.”

“One of your officers tortured him because he looked scary,” I growled. “Marcel has some nerve, to be born with forward-facing eyes. They threw him in a cage, electrocuted him, and—”

“Slanek! She’s a child.” The human drew an inhaler from his pack and passed it to Nulia. “Breathe this. It’ll help with the pain.”

“You were hurt just because your eyes are ugly?” She suckled on the canister, surveying the predator with earnestness. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Marcel blinked, a far-off look in his gaze. “It’s not fair at all. Humans just want your leaders not to kill us. We’re here to stop them from destroying our homes and our loved ones.”

Other humans were tending to downed civilians as well, scrambling to set up a temporary medical tent. There was the side of the predators I was fond of: the empathetic nurturers. That wasn’t the typical flavor of an Arxur siege; no rogue soldiers were attempting to sample Gojid flesh, or salivating at the blood.

With the grays, the cost of surrender was always higher than fighting on. No matter how steep the penalties. If they saw Terran mercy, the Gojidi Union might be willing to admit defeat. The actual evidence suggested these predators were civilized, with rules and boundaries.

“So, if you don’t want to eat me…can you fix my leg?” Nulia asked.

My friend’s gaze lit up. “Yeah! We’ll try to find your parents after.”

The humans had no motive to help, yet their trained killers were falling over themselves to render life-saving aid. It was striking how their instinct led them to prioritize and coddle the children. If it was like this across the globe, the Terrans’ civilian policy would worm its way into the local broadcasts.

Wouldn't it be ironic, if the tide of public opinion began to shift? Captain Sovlin must be having a coronary right about now.