The Nature of Predators - Arxur Miniseries (1/6) (Patreon)

Context: Occurs shortly after the Arxur raided the cradle in Chapter 23.

Memory transcription subject: Kaisal, Arxur Dominion Third Fleet

Date [standardized human time]: September 28, 2136

Military service was something expected of all of us, as soon as we grew into our adult bodies. There was no room for Arxur society to tote around liabilities. I had wanted to put off joining the infantry for as long as possible, but my mother had other plans. She was disappointed in my scrawny stature, and told me that the rations were going to stop coming. If I didn’t join the military, I think I would’ve been handed over to the Betterment office.

The training officers beat me worse than my parents had, disappointed in how I lagged behind the other recruits. There was no way I could hold my own in sparring matches; rations were withheld as punishment for my ineptitude. Having eaten a maximum of three times in the past two weeks, I could feel my muscles withering. Hunger pains stabbed at my stomach with such intensity, that I tried to swipe another Arxur’s rations. That was the final nail in the coffin, since we were not permitted to attack our own.

The trainers debated throwing me into an airlock, or sticking a bullet in my worthless skull. But it was decided that the best way to get rid of me, was to drop me off with a cattle patrol on the Gojid cradle. Someone who couldn’t fight was unlikely to last; I could be sacrificed in the name of the Dominion. Gojidi Union defenses had mysteriously gone down, leaving a straight shot to their homeworld.

If those prey idiots had a brain, I would think it’s a trap. But they don’t.

“Well, what do we have here? This runt is pathetic!” a feminine voice hissed from my left.

I tugged at the harness around my body, keeping my eyes down. “Hi. I’m Kaisal.”

My arms felt weak, and the lethargy made me want to nap. Images of our rations floated through my mind. Those of us dropped on cattle worlds didn’t eat for five days before. It made zero sense to waste limited food on those who could die. Supposedly, as the Dominion told us, hunger helped us to fight with a desperation.

Claws swiped across my cheek, earning a wince. “Fight back! Scared? You’re an affront to the Prophet’s teachings. You have the form of a syasara.”

Syasaras were burrowing creatures native to our homeworld, tiny prey that lived by riverbanks. Those morsels hardly did anything to sate our appetites, but had become common livestock anyways. The animals that could actually feed a hungry Arxur were wiped out by the Federation, with their plague tailored to our animals. Meager pickings were all that we had left.

“I’m saving my anger for the Gojid prey.” My stomach rumbled loudly, and desperation expanded through my chest. I was so hungry that I couldn’t think straight; there was nothing I wouldn’t do for a scrap of meat. “I haven’t done anything to you…your name is?”

“Naitha, a pure-blood from a line verified by the Great Laznel.” She slammed her snout into my chest, knocking the wind out of me. “It’s important to single out the weakest links before the mission. You’re going to exit the ship first…lead the way.”

I nursed my lungs, and curled my tail around my ankles. It was difficult to concentrate on anything other than my dizzying need for fuel. It wasn’t clear if I could hold a gun without shaking, but Naitha wasn’t asking. The irritability of traveling with two other people could be adding to her temperament. Prolonged exposure and sociability was grating, like having bugs crawling up your spine. The fact that none of us had eaten was making emotional regulation more difficult.

Bursts of aggression threatened to explode, in between listless spells; I didn’t feel like I was in control. These Federation animals deserved to die, for making us live this way. Saliva watered in my mouth, at the thought of ripping out a Gojid’s intestines. The logical part of my brain told me I was about to be hurled into a warzone, and gunned down. My dreams, of becoming a great intellectual like Laznel, were unachievable. I was weak.

A scarred muzzle nudged my shoulder. “I’m your team leader, Typhith. Think about something other than the hunger. Now.”

“I can’t,” I whimpered.

“Get a grip, and quit whining like prey. The rest of us don’t want you burdening this unit. Are you going to cry, and let your feelings spill over?”

Tears were fogging my periphery, and I struggled not to let them spill over. Terror was lurking in the recesses of my mind, the simple call of self-preservation. The sooner we landed, the sooner I could be put out of my misery. Death would be a welcome reprieve, from this meaningless existence. I wished I hadn’t been born an Arxur.

I wish my squad had the disdain for taunting that we have for standard conversation. This is tiresome.

Typhith smacked his tail at Naitha, as our ship touched down amidst an orchard. The Gojid herbivores had a bounty of their food here, but even in my state, I wouldn’t dream of trying it. All attempts to eat fruit by Arxur ended up with an upset stomach, compounding dehydration and nutrient deficiencies. The Federation assholes had no idea what suffering was.

Typhith yanked me out of my seat, and Naitha shoved a gun in my hand. I barely locked my claws around one end, before I was thrown out of the ship. Two Gojid ‘soldiers’ were fleeing from a battle site into the thick treeline, while mushroom clouds ascended from the direction of the settlement. Panic flashed in their side-facing eyes, while their bristling spines showed their fear. My eyes dilated as I smelled their fluids on the wind; the scent was tantalizing.

I began firing blindly, all conscious thought evaporating in bloodthirst. Red spilled across my vision, and I charged toward them without any strategy. The prey duo panicked at my mere appearance; rather than fighting, both sprinted away from me. The slower Gojid panicked as its partner began to surpass them, and tugged at the frontrunner’s arms. It kept running, leaving the downed Gojid screaming for mercy.

In a sane state of mind, I might’ve felt a trace of cursed pity for the creature. It was left behind by its own kind, sacrificed by a backstabber. Its scent was flooding my nostrils, along with a hint of blood; I could taste its warm flesh through its aroma. My shaken rationality snapped, as I began devouring it with ravenous fury. I couldn’t even notice the spines in my mouth. It was a matter of crunching through bone and anything in my way.

Teeth dug into my neck, deep enough to draw blood. I screamed incoherently, and swung my tail at the Arxur dragging me away from my catch. That was food that I needed…so badly that it burned. My stomach begged for more than the handful of bites I’d taken.

“The weakest eats last,” Naitha sneered. “You’ll get whatever bones we leave. Or…fight me, runt.”

I snapped my jaws at her, reduced to little more than an animal. The extent to which I desired a full meal left my muscles quivering with wanton desire. Typhith tore into the Gojid’s throat, braying with pleasure as the blood whetted his maw. That prey was tracked down by me, while the rest of the cattle squad wanted me killed. Why should my share get taken by those lazy bastards?

Naitha ducked away from my bite, and thrashed me across the throat with her tail. She pinned me to the ground with superior strength, stepping on my windpipe. My breath was depleted in a matter of seconds; there was no energy left to fight her. I hated that I was such a pathetic Arxur, wasting away on a Federation planet. All I wanted was a slight respite from the throes of starvation…

Typhith finished off the best parts, licking his lips. “Here, Naitha. You can have the liver.”

He dug a purplish slab out of the prey’s stomach, and tossed the warm, nutrient-dense piece to my captor. She lightened her grip on me, turning her attention to the meal. She made a point of chewing slowly, savoring each bite with audible pleasure. The scent of the Gojid’s organs teased me, rendering me unable to string thoughts together.

“Typhith, what do you think of the strange reports?” Naitha asked, through a mouthful of food.

The team leader narrowed his eyes. “Our first landing parties met heavy resistance. Someone else got here before us; primitive ships rushed over to meet us in orbit. They’re outmatched, but they’re digging their heels in.”

“I’ve heard there’s signs of stampeding in the Gojid settlements, but it doesn’t look fresh. It happened before we landed. Have you considered the possibility that these primitives are like us?”

“I don’t know what to think. They’re wearing so much armor, that you can’t see their features. But they have armor…tactics…aggression. We might have a genuine first contact here. I want to try to recover one of their bodies.”

Through the haze of hunger, I processed the new information. Modern Betterment rhetoric claimed that the Arxur were a superior species, due to our unique nature. The Dominion grasped the benefit of potential allies, and searched in earnest for other predators. But every planet turned up a new band of herbivores, who fainted at the sight of us.

Typhith sneered at my languishing form. The remnants of the Gojid carcass were kept out of my reach; there were no doubts in my mind that my Arxur ‘comrades’ would stuff themselves. They would keep trying to get me killed, so they could have a laugh at the scrawny kid. I realized that I hated what I was, and the species I was a part of.

If there’s a chance that other predators are here, I have to try to find them. Life as their prisoner can’t be worse than another day as an Arxur.

I snatched my gun back up off the ground, and sprinted away from Typhith and Naitha. Their heads snapped around, as they saw me making a break for the forest. Deserting the posse was high treason. Hell, it was an idiotic decision, to run off because of a rumor that had never proven true before. It was likely I’d be shot by Gojids, or executed for treason if my pursuers caught me. My feet picked up the pace.

The grass underfoot was already trimmed down, with hints of Gojid on the blade…and something else. This animal’s smell was oily and salty, unlike any sapient species I’d detected before. The reason we encountered so few of the spikebacks, must be because the other invaders flushed them out first. I prayed to the Prophet’s spirit that these aliens weren’t just aggressive herbivores, or Federation breakaways.

Typhith closed the distance with powerful strides, and lined up his gun as I ran. “You’re dead, runt. You are a disgrace to your family bloodline, and to your planet.”

I risked a glance back, too panicked to point my own weapon at him. My eyes widened in surprise, as a red dot appeared on his chest. There was nobody in sight, and the Gojids weren’t clever enough to hide. Was he actually being targeted by a sniper? If these aliens could land precision strikes from long-range, they must have stereoscopic vision!

The thunderclap of a gunshot ripped through the air, before a bullet nailed Typhith in the shoulder. Naitha stopped in her tracks, looking around for the assailant. My own nostrils flared, searching for the direction of the sniper. The oily smell seemed to originate from up a tree.

Realizing their tactical disadvantage, my Arxur squadmates abandoned their pursuit. A cursing Typhith signaled for Naitha to fall back. The two of them ducked behind cover, before the alien could pick the next mark. I slung my rifle around my neck, and raised my paws in a non-threatening gesture.

“This is stupid,” I muttered to myself. “Every species we’ve met just shoots us on sight.”

My paws inched forward, taking every second I wasn’t terminated as a sign of encouragement. This alien had to be a predator, perhaps one that could be convinced to hunt together. Any prey species would’ve taken the shot by now out of panic. Even a weakling like me was a demon, to their eyes.

“I know you’re close to here, alien. Please, don’t shoot!” I shouted.

A melodic, yet powerful voice floated from above. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a round in your head, croc.”

“Uh…because that’s a terrible way to gather intelligence? Dead people don’t talk?”

“Good answer. Toss the gun, and get down on your knees.”

Our translators had their input ripped from the Federation database, though our archive was outdated. The prey animals must’ve known about this species for a long time. Their propaganda could’ve worked its way into these aliens’ heads. This sniper looked surprised that I was talking. Did they assume we were raving beasts?

I placed myself in a prostrate position, throwing the rifle away. A fleshy figure shimmied down the tree trunk with ease, suggesting an arboreal ancestry. The alien was indeed covered in armor, but they were otherwise disappointing. Federation species had bigger claws, than those pink pads on soft digits.

The creature seemed like a mammal, but their fur had fallen off in most places. Those slender legs weren’t able to generate pouncing power. The skeletal structure made me guess it was a female, based on weight dispersal. But the eyes that rounded on me were forward-facing, and rather discerning. There were no signs of fear; if any emotion was present, it was anger.

“Why were you running from the other two grays?” she barked.

I flinched, hearing the Federation pejorative. “I’m here because I’m weak. It’s a death sentence…I want to defect to your people. Look at me, I’m starving.”

“You are skin and bones, croc. Haven’t been able to murder enough children lately?”

“‘Children?’ You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re being systematically starved by the Federation, because we’re obligate carnivores. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of the ‘predator’ treatment!”

The creature stroked her chin. There was no question that the Federation got to her government, after hearing the casual usage of “gray.” The fact that these people attacked the Gojids meant something, though. At least this soldier was listening to our side of the story; nobody ever bothered.

“We humans already find ourselves on the end of that predator treatment. That’s why we’re here,” she said. “You’re my prisoner now. Understand?”

I laid as still as possible, allowing the human to cuff my forepaws. She showed no signs of panic from our proximity. Maybe there was a chance here to prove myself a worthy contributor; an alliance with the new predators would be an asset to the Dominion. Convincing these people to join with us might be easier said than done.

All I cared about was persuading her to feed me, and escaping this shithole with a new lease on life.

Next 

A/N - A new bonus miniseries, with a new Arxur narrator: one who is ordinary, and has been labeled "weak" by his kind. In a desperate attempt to attain food, he threw himself at the mercy of a human...who for some reason, is alone...

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! I know you guys love Arxur content, so I hope this scratches the itch. Shooting for Part 2 Monday.