Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic

Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2136

The tour of the governor’s mansion started off without incident, and my nerves began to settle down. The humans tailed behind Kam and I, with questions pertaining to every subject under the sun. Culture, history, politics: they couldn’t absorb information fast enough. Had any other species arrived at our doorstep, with such childlike curiosity, their enthusiasm would be lauded.

Hell, if you didn’t look at the humans, you could almost forget they were predators.

My brain switched into autopilot mode, as I steered our group to the next stop: my office. However, the second I opened the door, I realized I had made a dreadful mistake. In this morning’s panic, I had left a TV on. The news was cycling through footage of bomb shelters across the planet. Government advisories played on loop in the background. They were speaking rather candidly about the humans’ foray, and the likelihood of mass casualties.

I scrambled to turn it off, but it was too late. The humans wandered over to the screen, staring in silence. They hadn’t been this quiet since we started the tour. Seeing masses of people, huddled together, crying, must have stirred something in them.

“I was wondering why there were so few staff here. No reporters either,” Noah said finally. “They’ve all been evacuated, haven’t they?”

I cast my gaze downward. “Yes.”

“You thought we were here to attack you.” There was a flash of something in his brown eyes, and he pressed a hand to his forehead. “My God…Sara, you see how they look at us. I think they still believe that.”

“Is that true, Tarva?” Sara asked. “What do you think is our purpose?”

Panic fluttered in my chest. There was no way to formulate a convincing reply. I took a few steps back, eyeing the humans warily. To deny the accusation would be to discount their intelligence; they would see right through any further deception. Silence was a way of confirming their suspicions, without having to vocalize our terror.

Kam, however, was eager to supply the answer. “To kill us. And to have a grand old time dragging it out.”

“No, no, no! That is not the case at all,” Noah hissed. “We mean you no harm. Look, if you want us to leave, we will.”

Sara raised her hands slowly. “We never wanted to cause fear, or disrupt your lives. We just wanted to meet other people…other people like us…”

“There are no people like you,” Kam growled.

“Really?” She pointed to a 3D photo on my desk, a hard glint in her eyes. “What about them?”

The picture in question was of myself, at a conference with dozens of Federation leaders. It was obvious, to any intelligent observer, that those diverse lifeforms were not of Venlil origin. What were the humans supposed to think? Seeing us comfortable with other aliens, they had to be wondering why they were so feared. I cursed myself for such a blatant oversight.

“You’re right.” I managed to speak, though my voice was hardly more than a whisper. “They’re not from this world. Like you.”

Noah cleared his throat. “How many intelligent species are there…that you know of? How did you find each other?”

I hesitated. If the humans intended to purge the galaxy, news of the Federation’s existence would give them a starting point. It might also tip them off to the coming rescue party, and cause them to accelerate invasion plans. But by the same token, they would discover it anyways. At least this way, we could gauge their reaction.

“Hundreds. Most of us are members of the Galactic Federation. It’s a central governing body of sorts.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Why do we bother you then? You’re used to aliens.” Sara’s eyes narrowed to unnerving slits. “Do we resemble something from your past?”

A growl rumbled in Kam’s throat. “You’re a predator. A sentient predator.”

Wonderful. Could this conversation have gone any worse? In his hatred, the military advisor had just told the humans the actual reason they were different. It stood to reason that if they were predators…by default, we were the opposite. If their instincts weren’t awakened before, they had to be salivating now.

There was a long silence, and I could almost see the gears turning in Sara’s mind. Surprise flashed on her face, as though she didn’t understand why their nature mattered. Was this the first time the notion crossed her mind? It was tough to believe the humans were that oblivious to the food-chain dynamics.

“Is that uncommon?” she asked.

“Very.”

“How many are there?”

“You’re the second.”

Noah turned his piercing gaze toward Kam. “Who is the first?”

Silence blanketed the room with a heavy grip. Nobody wanted to explain what happened with the Arxur; not even Kam would offer pointed comments on that subject. We didn’t need to give the humans any ideas. The captain seemed to notice our expressions darken, and the lines on his own face hardened.

“Who is the first?” he repeated.

What words could provide an adequate description of evil incarnate? My eyes swelled with water as memories resurfaced. My father, captured alive on the warfront, shipped back piece by piece. The day the Arxur launched a gas attack against my daughter’s school and left her braindead. The slave pens, the irradiated worlds, the Venlil kept as cattle…

I buried my head in my paws, trying to hide the tears. Showing such weakness in front of the humans was the worst thing I could do. This species, for all its refined words, was cut from the same cloth as our oppressors. If they saw the extent of our pain, it would be weaponized down the road.

Noah’s eyes widened, and my heart sank in my chest. The observant visitor had noticed my emotional lapse, and seemed to be debating his next action. After a moment’s thought, he shuffled closer to me. Every instinct screamed at me to back away, but my paws refused to budge.

As the predator reached out with a meaty paw, I waited for him to strike me. My mind was braced for taunting, torture, or whatever else may come.

Instead, he gently placed an appendage on my shoulder. “Whatever they did, we’re not like that. We’re not going to hurt you, okay?”

Something seemed to snap in my soul, like a series of cracks spreading through a dam. Raw emotion poured through my psyche, and I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Noah pulled me closer to him, stroking my head in a soothing manner. His embrace was warm, soft, and delicate, yet I could feel the strength in his arms. There was a silent promise of safety in his grasp. He released me after a few seconds, and wiped a tear off of my face.

Kam’s jaw looked like it was about to fall off. It was rare to see the general left speechless, but I understood why. Kindness was antithetical to the nature of a predator; he couldn’t believe his eyes.

For the first time since the humans appeared, I considered that they might be benevolent. They had to feel empathy to understand how to comfort someone, after all. A decision cemented itself in my mind. I couldn’t allow innocent people to die, simply because of their appearance. The predators might be a threat, but we had judged them based on preconceived notions.

“I believe you, Noah,” I sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name!” The human turned his head away, hiding a ‘smile.’ “Either of our names.”

I chuckled. “B-better late than never. Kam, rescind the planetary distress signal.”

“I can’t do that, ma’am,” the advisor said.

“I wasn’t asking your opinion. That was an order!” I snapped. “For stars’ sake, I’ll do it myself.”

“You don’t understand. The Federation is already here. They’re hailing us now.”

A string of curses escaped my lips, and the humans tilted their heads in confusion. I tried to imagine how the poor saps felt. A few hours ago, they hadn’t even known extraterrestrial life existed. Now, they learned of a galactic community; one that hated them without provocation. They were taking the news in stride, but it had to be overwhelming.

Unfortunately, I still had one more bombshell to drop on them. How terrifying would it be, as guests on another world, to have warships arrive hellbent on killing you?

“Wait, why is that bad?” Noah asked. “I thought the Federation are your friends.”

I avoided his gaze. “They came because we set off a distress signal. They’re expecting a fight.”

“I see. Well, why don’t we talk to them, and explain that it was a misunderstanding? Once they know that we’re peaceful–”

“No. I appreciate the thought, but the second they see your…” I waved a paw in the general vicinity of my mouth and eyes. “They won’t listen to a word you say. They’ll want you dead.”

Or worse, I added to myself.

“Right…” the human muttered. “So…”

“I’m sorry about all this, really.” I scratched my chin, trying to think. “I’ll try to drive them off. Just stay out of sight, and let me do the talking. Okay?”

Noah nodded. “Got it.”

I took a deep breath. Despite their repulsive appearance, the humans’ actions exuded such a genuine kindness. They were strangely charming, when you sensed the person beneath the monster. If anything happened to Noah and Sara, the responsibility fell on my shoulders. To think minutes ago, I had been hoping for the Federation to swoop in and save us.

Now, my only objective was to save the lives of two predators.