Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, United Nations Fleet Command
Date [standardized human time]: November 27, 2136
The United Nations extended me an official plea deal, which my lawyer was quick to secure. I was to serve with the Terran military for at least five years, as penance for my debt. The fact was, someone of my sickening proclivities was useful to them, and I knew a lot about Federation ships. Outlining a species’ military tendencies and technological weaknesses was my specialty.
The humans had cobbled together a fleet, from the offerings that trickled in from dozens of planet-states. The Harchen and Tilfish surrendered their assets, and sent aid shipments as a peace offering; the predators were still deliberating what to do with them. However, neutral parties contributed the bulk of the vessels, along with a few old allies. The Terrans rushed the integration of millions of Federation servicemen into their ranks, after a mere week of anti-instinct training. Most aliens aboard this vessel were still acclimatizing to predators.
Ambitious as ever, the Terrans launched defensive and offensive operations simultaneously. But in fairness to their overzealous military, it was a mercy that they diverted resources to bail out the Mazics. The Kolshian-led force marching on their homeworld, Khoa, was enough to steamroll any fortifications. My role was as the resident expert on Federation tactics; I knew the terrain and local sensitivities better than my primate allies.
Captain Monahan scanned the bridge with her observant gaze. “All hands are on deck. FTL disruptors are still in full force, so we’re going in the old-fashioned way. ETA to Khoa less than 30 minutes. Settle in at the sensors station, Sovlin.”
I’d worked with just about every race over the years. Now, we were setting sail to fight people I once thought friends. It didn’t put a good feeling in my stomach, but the masterminds needed to answer for their crimes. The Kolshians and the Farsul were the ones who set the predator hatred in motion; they bore responsibility for what had transpired on Earth.
“I don’t belong with humans…ma’am,” came my subdued reply. “Your crew deserves better. I’m surprised you requested me back.”
“Frankly? You’re an idiot in many ways, but you know a thing or two about alien tactics. Having someone who can identify anomalies and ship types, in real time, is useful.”
“Glad I can do something right.”
“Cut the crap. Romero and Harris were brought aboard for your welfare. They’re waiting for you, yes, with other people. Don’t be shy. Get your ass to your post.”
It took a colossal effort to walk across the aisle, and settle in at the weapons post. Samantha was sipping at a steaming drink, and bore the vacant look of someone whose mind was elsewhere. Carlos was focused on the battle readout, barely acknowledging my stare. I wondered how the humans came to terms with their monstrous side, when I just couldn’t get past mine.
Sapients aren’t supposed to be like us. Who the fuck am I now?
My gaze drifted to the unfamiliar human, who was leading the weapons’ station. This male was one of the tallest humans I’d seen, with a few inches on even Carlos. The predator sported lean muscles across his upper body, and had coarse hair the color of sand. A Yotul was seated alongside the Terran, reviewing the button functionality.
“Hello,” I offered.
Binocular eyes darted over to me, a rich blue. “I was told we had a Gojid here! I served on the cradle, actually, with one of a few Venlil that joined us. I would have never guessed you guys were omnivores too.”
The Terrans were the only species that didn’t think we were freaks, after the broadcast. They welcomed the news of past omnivores, rejoicing that they weren’t alone in their preferences. But while I’d come around to humanity’s cause, the last thing I wanted was to be a predator. It was a lonely status, full of grisly practices and animalism. How could I be in the same class as an Arxur?
Carlos coughed. “Don’t bring that up. They were raised from birth to hate meat-eaters; told there was nothing worse. Our buddy here’s had a rough time of it.”
“Right, my bad,” the stranger agreed. “Anyhow, I’m Tyler Cardona, and this is my partner from the Yotul exchange program, Onso. The last month has been pretty shit, but I was stoked to get accepted to that initiative.”
Onso flicked his reddish ears. “Ha. Tyler wouldn’t even eat around me, when we first met. It was like he was scared to talk about Earth.”
“You didn’t see how the Venlil I was with reacted. Slanek, that was his name; he puked his guts out and had a breakdown from a few beef crumbles in my MRE.”
My spines bristled in alarm, as the name Slanek reached my ears. It was as though someone dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on my head. If this Tyler knew the Venlil, he likely knew Marcel by extension. The red-haired human had mentioned he’d served on the cradle, and spoke about the tragedies that unfolded. Protector, it was just my luck to get stuck serving under one of his buddies.
I was fortunate Tyler didn’t realize who I was. For this particular human, my crimes were a personal attack on someone he cared about. I shot Sam and Carlos a pleading look, imploring them not to pipe up. Perhaps it was necessary to ask Captain Monahan for a transfer, although her reaction would be one of displeasure. Put simply, my identity could interfere with station performance, if it came to light.
“By the way, isn’t this a sick ride? I couldn’t pass up a chance to serve on one of the few human craft left in service,” the sand-haired Terran continued, giving the desk an enthusiastic slap. “Captain requested me because I’m an expert on the fear-suppression program. You hear that, Onso? Expert.”
“Quit the yapping. Will you let the newcomers get a word in? What’s your name, Gojid?” Onso asked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t have one.”
Tyler snorted. “Of course you do! Don’t make me pry it out of your buddies. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is you talk too much, and we’re about to go into battle. Even Onso notices you can’t keep a lid on it. So kindly, shut the fuck up.”
The smile vanished from the sensor officer’s face, and he shot his Yotul pal an incredulous look. His features took on a scowl, as he turned back to me. I squirmed under his paralyzing glare, knowing my words were too harsh. It wasn’t my intent to offend the big guy, but opening up to him wasn’t an option. It wasn’t wise to advertise my identity to humans in general, let alone a packmate of Marcel.
A dangerous growl rumbled in his throat. “I am an officer of this ship. You don’t get to speak to me like that.”
“Hey Tyler, I know he’s being an ass. He takes awhile to open up to humans,” Carlos jumped in. “Please, cut him a break this once? Just let him settle in first, and warm up to you in his own time.”
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“Whatever. But it better not happen again. You want all work, no play? Start analyzing the subspace data, and plotting intercept vectors. Give me a list of potential targets, as soon as enemies are in sight.”
I lowered my eyes. “Yes, sir.”
Samantha sipped at her bean drink, momentary interest in her eyes. The female human and I had been getting along better since Cilany’s rescue. All the same, I wondered if she’d turn me in to Tyler down the line. After this battle, I had to get myself transferred to a different station; weapons would be more up my alley anyways.
With a great deal of effort, I zeroed in on the sensor data. The subspace trails we could detect were faint, coming from the direction of Aafa. We had assumed the enemy would beat us here by a few hours. Visual contact was needed to assess the drive signatures, and determine how many species we were up against. I worried just how far the Federation would go, with their organization fracturing. The Mazics needed to hold out a little longer.
I cleared my throat. “No sign of friendly activity. The fact that there’s no outbound trails suggests the skirmish is ongoing. Good news.”
“Why is that?” Tyler asked, in a gruff voice.
“The Federation would send word home, if they’d achieved victory. We need to get a comm link with the Mazics…make sure their planetary defenses don’t start picking us off.”
The sensors officer relayed the message to Captain Monahan, who nodded in agreement. She issued orders to a Fissan at the comms station, which was where most prey had been relegated. The alien crew members were doing their jobs seamlessly so far, but humans were best suited for high-stress roles. Nobody else had the ability to block out fear, like it wasn’t even there.
Onso tampered with the viewport settings, straining on his digitigrade legs. The Yotul looked more comfortable with the technology than I expected. Perhaps Tyler had taught him the modern ways, somehow? The blond human hadn’t shown any concern with leaving a primitive novice unattended. It was a wonder those two found any common ground for friendship.
I pored over the subspace trails, and fed the data to the computer for analysis. The AI took several seconds to extrapolate optimal paths, once I input Khoa as the primary target. It was likely the Federation would take a conservative approach, in case of a human ambush. Predators were predictable, but the same could be said of prey…the normal races. That meant we might be able to spot a lookout ship.
If we can take them out before they relay useful data, that’s ideal. The less information the enemy has, the better.
I leaned over to Onso. “Search for recon ships on the viewport. We want to take out their eyes.”
“Apologize to Tyler first,” the Yotul barked.
“This is not the time for petty squabbles! We’re soldiers, not daycare workers. Do you want to lose ships and lives because you’re mad at me?”
“I don’t want to work with you.”
“The feeling is mutual. Now isn’t the time to disrupt the captain, but I’ll request a transfer when this is over. We have to work together, this once, because what you want and what you get are two different things. Start the fucking scan already, if you know how.”
The uplift bared his teeth, and I noted the fur on his hackles rising. He saw I had no problem with my human guards, which suggested my issue with his friend was personal. Truth be told, every part of me wanted to give Tyler a rambling apology, for all my transgressions. If he wanted a piece of me, I’d be happy to let him throw some well-placed haymakers. But at this moment, coming clean was the worst thing I could do; it would interfere with the mission.
Tyler narrowed his eyes. “Is there a problem…again?”
“The Gojid thinks he can order me around. He’s insufferable,” Onso grumbled.
Samantha exhaled a flustered breath. “He only said to search for scout ships. The Feds will take more caution than usual, I imagine.”
“If he’s giving solid advice, go with it,” the tall officer said. “Onso, I know you’re sticking up for me, but there’s too much at stake to be arguing now. I can look out for myself, okay?”
The Yotul pinned his ears back, before shifting the viewport at maximum magnification. Idle asteroids greeted us from the circumstellar disc, but nothing was of particular interest. In the meantime, our comms station had established contact with the Mazics. They sounded uncharacteristically happy to be on the line with the human fleet.
Carlos leaned close to my ear. “You could just make up a name, man. What about Vinny?”
I scrunched my nose with distaste, ignoring his suggestion. That would just leave Tyler infuriated that I’d deceived him, when someone called me by my real name. Onso released an excited yip beside us, and brought a small shuttle into focus. Its emissions were too minuscule to appear on sensors, without someone telling the computer where to look.
Our ship’s weapons revved to life, poised to decimate the first enemy contact. The humans had the forethought to charge the railgun in transit; there were no haphazard actions in this fleet. Captain Monahan barely finished giving the kill order, before a bolt of death streaked across the sky. The predators were dialed in for this mission, mechanical in their calculation.
There were no cheers in the bridge, as the enemy scout erupted into fiery shrapnel. The Terrans were itching to fight, but the thrill of combat was lost with Earth. Perhaps the somberness was because they didn’t want to fail to defend Khoa, and relive what happened to their own home. Human empathy often was more of a nuisance to them than a boon.
It’s just a few minutes before the entire Federation fleet is in view. We’re through the belt, and soon, it’s show time.
Samantha sucked in a sharp breath. “There! That faint emerald dot must be Khoa.”
My gaze shifted to the viewport. The sharp-eyed human must have distinguished the planet from the bountiful stars around us. White blips flashed near it, which were signs of the Mazics and the Federation exchanging fire. Donating several ship units to Earth’s crusade had depleted local resources. It was likely the friendlies were stalling for time, in the hopes of a predator rescue.
The fact that the Mazics withstood the volume of enemies we saw in transit was miraculous. The humans knew time was of the essence. Captain Monahan ordered navigations to push the throttle past recommended output. Our fleet surged ahead, stone-colored armors rattling from the acceleration.
I turned back to my data feed, and watched as new information trickled in. The computer continued tagging friendlies, while racking up a separate tally of enemies. The number of hostiles stalled around two thousand, whereas the estimate I’d pulled from subspace readings was five times that number.
The machine wasn’t counting any more contacts though, so it must be mistaken. The Mazics weren’t martial geniuses; they couldn’t have taken down that many ships. Also, there wasn’t enough debris detected for that many casualties.
“Where are the rest of the Federation ships? Onso, don’t tell me you applied sensor filters by mistake,” I grumbled.
The Yotul snarled with indignation. “There are no filters on, dumbass. The ships are there, on your readout, accounted for!”
Tyler pursed his lips. “What do you mean by the rest of them?”
“The level of overlap, in the subspace readings,” I replied. “It wouldn’t be that messy unless there was a lot of activity. I’m talking several times the number you see under the hostile designation…sir.”
The tall officer stroked the stubbly whiskers on his chin. He parsed through the data himself, and his expression grew deadly serious. Urgency flashed in his dark pupils, before he signaled our captain. Those predator instincts could draw tactical conclusions much faster than my own; humans acted before we even determined the problem.
Actually, why didn’t I have those instincts? Had those reflexes been written out of my genes by Kolshian experimenters, or a flesh deficiency? My eyes narrowed, before I turned my attention back to the bridge activity.
“It’s a trap!” Tyler’s skin morphed into a flushed shade of red, as blood pooled in his cheeks. Veins bulged from his temples, and his canines were bared in visceral alarm. “Captain, look for contacts on our six! They’re hiding out there somewhere.”
Monahan redirected power to shields, before relaying that conclusion to the fleet. The Terran ships undertook a gradual banking maneuver, ignoring bewildered chatter from the Mazics. The captain inspected the nearest astronomical bodies, and cross-referenced them with her star chart.
After a long pause, she pointed to a rocky planet. There was nothing I saw but a cratered surface. However, at this point, I trusted the predators’ refined instincts. Our commander likely singled it out, because that’s where she would’ve hidden a fleet with the roles reversed. Perhaps empathy wasn’t a complete hindrance on the battlefield.
Samantha squinted. “The attack on Khoa was just bait. It’s not worth it to subdue a single breakaway species. They want to keep our military crippled, and take out the Federation ‘traitors’ at the same time.”
As if expressing agreement with her words, an array of ships zipped out from behind the gravimetric body. The Federation must’ve realized the element of surprise was lost, so that forced a head-on confrontation with the human fleet. Had they really saved an abundance of fresh reinforcements for us?
The predators brought their fleet into a defensive formation, as the first munitions were lobbed in our direction. The Kolshians must believe numbers tipped the scales in their favor; the Terrans hadn’t held out the last time there was a disproportionate balance. This was a test of whether our rebuilt military could hold a candle to an ancient power.