Memory transcription subject: Glim, Venlil Rescue
Date [standardized human time]: November 29, 2136
Compartmentalizing emotions was the only way to survive an Arxur farm. When you were subjected to unspeakable conditions, your logical brain dissociated to protect itself. There was no hope of escape on Wriss, and the predatory Arxur didn’t show mercy. Screamers and runners got killed first; we all learned that catatonic responses were the best way to indulge instincts.
Yesterday was an unusual reprieve from the squalor. The first oddity I remembered was the Arxur herding us into the cattle ships; the gray pilots emanated particular disdain. I thought our destination was a slaughterhouse. The next thing I knew, Noah had me in his warm arms. His sleek mask was jet black, and spit my reflection back at me. The Venlil that stared back was filthy, with empty eyes and old scars.
Am I going to be Glim, or the string of numbers I recited to the Gaian?
Once it sank in that I was on Venlil Prime, the degrading years felt like they happened to someone else. Captivity became a nightmare I had memorized in vivid detail. My mind focused on the masked aliens, as a distraction from the flashbacks. Noah and Sara were an enigma for me to unravel. Even beneath the garments, their muscular, tailless form attracted attention.
Concentrating on them tickled something in the back of my mind. The longer I looked, the more I felt like a child watching shadows move in my closet. There was something not right with the cues hitting my visual receptors. Additionally, the Gaians behaved as though this program was their brainchild, and were elusive on basic questions. That suggested their interference wasn’t benign as they disclosed.
To top it off, Governor Tarva answered the greatest mystery of all: why the Arxur released us. She claimed that the Gaians negotiated our release…with the predators! Noah’s voice shook with a throaty growl, when he boasted of his species’ strength. The instincts I’d suppressed on Wriss were rekindled, once the male alien went to tuck me in.
“I don’t understand. Why would the Gaians trigger my instincts?” I muttered, as the caretaker left the room. “These aliens have been nice to us, mostly. We saw them eat fruit.”
Haysi flung off the bed covers. “I’m just tired of their games. Beating the Arxur’s not possible….t-they don’t need to lie to us.”
“You know, I didn’t feel like they were lying. Noah spoke with conviction, and t-the g-grays did get rid of us for some reason. Nobody challenged his story.”
“B-but the Arxur were made to k-kill. They’re unstoppable in c-combat.”
“I know, Haysi. Something’s rotten with this place. Have you noticed how these Gaians are the ones trapping us here?”
“Trapping? Glim, we’re safe at home, and they’re providing for us. Like Sara said, they’re just taking things slow, for our sake.”
“All I want…is to see my family. It would be beneficial for my health, I guarantee any doctor would agree. Why wouldn’t these aliens allow it?!”
“The aliens must be busy, but I’ll ask nicely for you. Maybe Tarva can set up a call.”
The former historian hopped out of the bed, and scurried out into the hallway. I had a feeling Noah and Sara wouldn’t comply with any requests. These aliens were gentle during our upkeep, but then spewed dishonesty in the next breath. The few answers they gave us, such as inventing FTL before the Federation discovered them, made no sense.
The biggest fib of all was the mask. In my estimation, no species could wear full-face shields in daily life. How was that practice suitable for eating, or searching for mates? Watching Noah lift it to insert fruit cemented my point. The Gaian’s posture had been odd, as though his hand was positioned to hide his teeth.
I’m going to find a way out of here. I’m not an Arxur’s number anymore; I won’t be treated as a slave by non-predators too!
A ceiling vent caught my eyes, though I wasn’t tall enough to reach it. Thinking quickly, I shoved a food cart beneath the opening. Haysi screamed in the background, which spurred me to rush my escape. I grabbed the scissors Sara had used to trim our overgrown pelts. Perhaps the instrument could be used to dislodge the grate.
I wedged the blade under a loose screw, and popped the bolt out of its socket. Pulling with all my might, I wrenched the vent out of its sealed position. Voices echoed nearby, with my name among the words spoken. Cool metal hugged my shallow ribcage, as I slithered into the crawlspace.
Claustrophobia kicked in at once; the narrow space brought back unwelcome memories. It was like being packed in a cattle pen, all over again. The enclosure was so dense with Venlil that I couldn’t breathe, but I managed to settle down on the caky dirt to sleep. Wailing noises flooded my ears, and my paws were twisted together.
“Lesser creatures,” an Arxur guard mused. “Drop a fleck of a leaf in there, and they dive on it as one.”
Its comrade snorted. “Animals in an animal’s place. It’s a shame their pups can’t be eaten twice. They scream so wonderfully.”
All I could manage was to drag myself forward with my paws, and hold an internal wail down. Images of the grays dragging pups away flashed through my mind. Their yellow fangs were on full display, as they stomped through the pen and scanned us. Their forward-facing eyes landed near me, triangular slits on alert. I wondered if I was the prize they’d eat ‘fresh’ today.
“I don’t want to be prey!” I squealed. “Make it stop! PLEASE!”
My forehead connected with a wall, and I winced at the sudden pain. There was no telling how long I’d been moving in a trance…likely a couple minutes. Another grate sat before me, with crisp airflow; I kicked the metal out with my hindlegs. There was a short drop down to a dumpster, which acted as a step to the outdoors.
I flung myself prone on the grass, wiggling my claws between blades. Having our sun on my back, and pressing my face into the greenery, I knew that I was home. Laughter spilled from my throat, as I tore up clumps of dirt with my claws. This was all I wanted those Gaians to give us; a proper reunion with Venlil Prime and our loved ones.
Now, it’s time to secure the latter. I never thought I’d see my family again. Will they even recognize me?
My paws steered me to a courtyard, where alien caretakers were eating their lunch. Two Gaians sat with their backs to me, munching on slices of bread. The purple liquid between the grains was the color of Krakotl blood. The aliens were not wearing their masks with each other, confirming my theory.
“…millions of people, who haven’t been home in years.” The Gaian’s voice reverberated in his chest, projecting aggression. The harsh barks were like a dagger to my heart. “The Venlil who were born in captivity, they are utterly convinced they’re animals. One asked me why we took them from the Arxur. So calmly and, I…”
The other Gaian shook his head. “That’s so sad, Kyle. To think that’s all those poor Venlil have known! I can’t imagine what they’re feeling.”
“These are cases of extreme trauma, with no clinical precedent. I don’t mean to sound like a pessimist, but I’d imagine at least forty percent of the Venlil here never recover enough to live on their own.”
“We can’t sustain a program like this forever. Humanity bit off more than we can chew here. After we win the war, our allies are going to have to take some of the load.”
“But Federation psychology is a joke, Tanner. Humans have the best ideas on treating trauma and providing therapy.”
“There’s only so much we can do; we have our own problems. I don’t mean to sound heartless, this just sounds like a losing battle.”
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“If we can help half of these people get on their feet, that’s not a losing battle. We’re morally obligated to help the Venlil, of all species. I’d be dead back in Johannesburg without them.”
Their cadence sounded like it came from a teenage Arxur. Deeper voices evolved to convey power, and to frighten other animals into submission. The latter effect was taking hold of me, but my curiosity was still kicking. This was my chance to see a Gaian’s anatomical features, of which Sara refused to provide diagrams.
I tuned out their gravelly chatter, and slunk behind some bushes to get a better angle. At first, I caught only a glimpse of their temples, and didn’t process why that was incorrect. Further inspection lent the full picture. Sockets sat above their furless cheeks, and were smushed up against their nose.
Of course, not a sliver of their eyes had been visible from the side…
Panic exploded in my sternum, searing into my lungs like smoke inhalation. These Gaians’ pupils faced directly ahead, without any peripheral tilt. Their irises were encompassed by a white shell, which made the pupil movements jerkier and more noticeable. I could read distinct hunger as if it were spelled out.
What kind of mammal had no pigment in their scleras, and a shaven face? An involuntary shudder rolled down my spine; these predators were abominations of the worst kind. Even an Arxur would cower at such a sight! I couldn’t believe that such a vicious creature was hiding under Noah’s mask. That was Noah, who sat next to me for Jenga…who reminded me I had a name.
We’re not free at all. Venlil Prime has been conquered by predators, I realized. The Arxur transferred us to the custody of a species just like them.
The Gaians weren’t capable of compassion, and shouldn’t tend to traumatized creatures like us. Governor Tarva must’ve convinced them it was beneficial to their diet. Perhaps these hunters allowed sapient cattle to live normal existences, until their number was drawn. Happy Venlil meant a well-fed entrée, and unforced reproduction…
“If this w-world is a comfortable cattle pen, that means the Gaians might stay away from the cities,” I whispered. “I’ve got to find my family…learn how this happened.”
My legs started running, despite the weakness from years of being penned. Sobbing from despair, I sprinted through the parking lot. There was an occasional glance to ensure the Gaians weren’t giving chase. All I could picture was Noah’s white-cloaked eyes, glistening with hunger and cruelty beneath its mask. Maybe it started growling and left the Jenga game, because its appetite was stirred.
Predators existed to root out weakness, and to specialize in death and brutality. Their defining instinct was aggression, and their ‘philosophy’ was survival of the fittest. The rescues…our delicacy must have tantalized them, from the start. Governor Tarva had done excellent at masking her fear, but that spoke wonders about how long these things had been defiling my world.
Venlil Prime’s capital design was circular, with buildings further from the governor’s mansion spread out in increasingly wider arcs. Most residences were in the larger bands, whereas businesses were part of the inner rings. If our facility was the main hospital, it’d be centralized to service the whole district. A block away from the facility, that was why I encountered dive bars and hotels, alongside increased foot traffic.
Maybe there was a place to seek refuge in this commercial plaza. The panic was beginning to subside, but I needed time to process my responses. For one, what happened to other…‘controversial’ exterminators? Answers were next on my agenda; it wasn’t clear if any Venlil were resisting the predators.
I staggered into a local brewery, spotting mounted holoscreens through the window. The establishment wasn’t busy, but a Venlil bartender looked up as I entered. Perhaps she could lend me her holopad, so I could call my aunt. Aunt Thima took me in after my mother died, and parented me to adulthood. If anyone would tell me the truth of the Venlil collapse, it would be her.
The bartender perked her ears up. “Hello, good sir! What can I interest you in? Our special today is grapefruit-flavored malt liquor; authentic predator taste in a Venlil drink!”
I gaped at her for several seconds, throwing a terrified glance at the tap spouts behind the counter. The bar’s patrons were giving me odd looks, as they noticed my emaciated ribs. My feet suddenly felt unsteady, and I sank into a bar stool. The barkeep pinned her ears back in concern, before handing me a glass of water.
I lapped down the liquid. “T-thanks, bartender. P-predator taste, you said?”
“Yep! The human farms nearby are making a pretty credit with ‘exotic’ fruits,” she replied cheerily. “Most of the crops go back to Earth, but Venlil businesses buy up the leftovers.”
I caressed the empty water glass, trying to process her unabashed explanation. This ‘human’ word was one I’d caught first from the snacking Gaians, and now in reference to predator farms…whatever that meant. Maybe their species name wasn’t Gaian; it must be human. If they’d lied about everything else, why wouldn’t the moniker be false?
The fact that predators grew fruit was odd, but Noah and the lunching humans had shown that they varied their diet with plants. Any surplus growth could go to the cattle; I assumed they had a sizable population on their world. Why would Venlil businesses market cattle-feed beverages though? What ghastly price was needed to ‘buy’ fruit from a hunter?
“You trade with them? Are you insane?” I hissed.
“I won’t tolerate racism in this establishment.” The bartender bared her teeth at me, and swiped my glass away. “I sponsored a human refugee, bless his heart; he was part of a group from a Terran orphanage. The poor thing was so young, and so eager to please. A hard life made harder.”
“Refugee? I don’t understand.”
“Everyone knows why humans came here. What they lost. Are you okay, sir?”
“Uh, f-fine. Sorry, just having a rough day.”
The barkeep looked unconvinced, but she returned to wiping down the counters. I decided I wouldn’t be asking this delusional employee for a communications device. She’d probably report me to my ‘Gaian’ overlords just as soon. However, I could access the television broadcasts that Noah refused to let us see. That would reveal the propaganda these humans were forcefeeding the masses.
A male Venlil, captioned with the name ‘General Kam’, was speaking on a holoscreen. The audio was muted, but a subtitles ticker rolled underneath his picture. The feed occasionally switched over to an anchor, or some B-roll video. I leaned forward, curious to see how much of our culture survived.
“…the humans have amassed an unlikely group of allies, so I don’t see why the odds are against us. It’s the Kolshians and the Federation who lack unity. I’m proud to stand with Governor Tarva, in throwing off Federation tyranny. I have nothing but praise for the Secretary-General, and how effective Earth has been on the offensive,” Kam was saying.
The anchor’s eyes widened. “But don’t you think humanity is spreading their forces too thin? The Terran military is taking on engagements at Khoa, Sillis, Fahl, and other undisclosed operations. Per sources close to Tarva, the Arxur are becoming restless.”
“If you’re asking why we don’t hit Aafa right away, it’s because humans are patient hunters. We have to trust our friends. The Arxur, believe it or not, are invaluable in supplementing our fleet.”
Horror flooded my chest, as I listened to the matter-of-fact discussions of a galaxywide war. The media was a state-run television channel now, where our generals surfaced to brag about the predators’ conquest. General Kam was spinning this narrative of friendship, while talking about conflict with the entire Federation. These humans must be forcing us to be slaves for their militaries.
I palmed my head in defeat. “Hey, bartender…w-what happened to that predator ‘refugee?‘”
“I’m working on adopting him. We barely have enough to make ends meet, even with the government stipends,” the Venlil barkeep replied. “But I can give him love and support. Humans need a nurturing environment. They’re simple creatures, really.”
“You think you can raise a monster as a prey child?! Put it under your roof like a Venlil?! It doesn’t want your love. It wants to EAT YOU!”
“How dare you speak like that about my son! You’re disgusting. Get the fuck out of my bar.”
Other customers murmured in agreement, shooting looks of loathing at me. I wasn’t sure how the predators got these Venlil on their side, but they must possess some crafty indoctrination methods. Noah and Sara were starting to work their witchery on us, back at the program. It was a good thing I escaped before that settled in.
Signs of predator contamination were all around me, as I staggered out of the bar. One human was intermingling with a group of Venlil, and bared its teeth during the conversation. None of my people seemed fazed by the pointed canines, which were an obvious threat display. This level of pacification was absurd…it was like Venlil instincts were erased.
There was little the demons hadn’t touched. An advertising poster read ‘Escape from the Cradle’, and featured a star-studded cast…mixed with predator scribbles. A ‘Gaian’ was pictured in a shuttle next to Venlil movie star Mava, who was famous in my day. How could a film star act out scenes alongside a beast? Why would the human lead agree to pose with tears running down its face?
Faint music drifted to my ears, an upbeat strumming pattern that flowed into a string of notes. I breathed a sigh of relief, and scampered toward the sound. This was a chance to get away from any humans, since predators would view emotional expression as a foolish endeavor. Prying an honest assessment from Venlil skeptics would need to be done out of bestial earshot.
“Cool song,” I practiced to myself. “Can I please borrow your holopad? The predators are hunting me.”
I rounded the street bend, and almost jumped out of my skin. A group of Venlil were huddled around a scruffy Gaian; the predator was moving its dexterous fingers along a fretboard. The taut strings curved to its will, and passion simmered in its eyes. It was seated atop an amplifier, which was capturing its input. The beast hit a few high-pitched notes with its clawless digits, before dropping back to chords.
The human leaned in to the microphone, and released an in-tune bellow in its language. The words translated as an impassioned declaration of belief and emotion. It was belting out notes well above its standard intonation too.
I was too dumbfounded by the predator’s emotional howl to panic. The electric tune sounded pleasant, and its growling voice was surprisingly melodic. Not to mention the hopeful message of the words. If it was going to write music, shouldn’t the song be a rage-filled exaltation of war? This sounded like Venlil radio fodder.
It was apparent there was no getting away from these monsters in the city. Overwhelmed to my core, I set off in search of public transit. What I wanted was time with my family, before Noah and Sara recaptured me. I had to get out of here, and get to my home prior to the humans.