The Nature of Predators 160 (Patreon)
Content
Memory transcription subject: Ambassador Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: March 22, 2137
The first Sapient Coalition convention felt like a trimmed-down version of the Federation’s meetings, with the familiar markings of diplomacy I’d seen for years. These were the parties that I’d devoted my life to negotiating with, long before I knew the peaceful union in the stars was a lie. Today’s agenda was centered around anything relating to genetic research, though I imagined the Duerten’s salvation would be brought up later. The United Nations was owed basic courtesy, after sparing Kalqua, so I hoped the avians had finally seen reason. On a personal note, Noah was present as my aide, though that was a bit reductive of his true purpose; I wished to try to see the species I’d known for years through his eyes.
Humanity had cultivated an array of 38 races, more than just the ones who were recognized across Earth. The Takkan representative’s gray hide, hunched over his station, told me their polity was ready to work. The infamous Doctor Zarn who’d cheered on Sovlin wasn’t indicative of the larger Takkan species, who’d opened embassies to humans and had been ready from the start to stick it to the Kolshians. The iridescent carapace of the Verin ambassador was visible across from a Terran aide; some predators were less than fond of insects, but this particular race had only ever gone from neutral to friendly. The Letian diplomat, who’d always struck me as a little creepy, seemed to be hitting it off with an entire group of Earthlings. The Drilvar attaché, unsurprisingly, was snoozing on his desk.
For the more well-known members of the audience, the Krakotl, Harchen, and Tilifish had chosen spots in the back of the hall, avoiding wandering UN diplomats. At the opposite end of the spectrum, Yotul ambassador Laulo appeared to be flaunting battle footage to anyone who would watch, making exaggerated gestures to accompany his boastful rhetoric. Mazic Vice President Quipa had allowed a human colonial leader from Liberty’s Bastion to share her station, which showed respect to the Terran settlement in Khoa’s vicinity. The distant Paltans were flipping through a leaflet on their refugee problem, clearly wanting to insert it into next week’s agenda. The Fissans and Nevoks were full-on hawking deals on materials until the meeting started.
If anyone would’ve told me when Noah first landed on Skalga that all these species would be sharing a hall, and things would seem so normal, I would’ve laughed. To think Terrans would be so ready to leap into diplomacy, despite their checkered past; it was unthinkable from what we all knew of them.
Noah offered a gentle smile. “It’s nice not to have to worry so much about appearances, love. Honestly, the United Nations is probably happy on the conflict of interests issue, from my side, I mean. The Venlil were…special circumstances, or our people would’ve never allowed an astronaut who’s very close to the Governor to be handling our business.”
“Yeah, I suppose our connection was a diplomatic dilemma. Hopefully Governor Veln doesn’t prove too much to manage for your successor. He’s ambitious.”
“Veln is shifty, but two can play that game. If he wants to try to outmaneuver a genuine human diplomat, well, he doesn’t know what he’s in for. The Venlil people didn’t know how lucky they were to have someone honest, feeling, and sincere like you in office. Heaven knows, I wish we had heartfelt people like you filling positions of power back home. Earth will never forget what you did for us, and I’m glad we have you here at the SC now. You care.”
“Of course I do. That’s why when I heard from some Terran counterparts that you wanted to talk about various gene edits, namely research done to reverse the cure, I made sure to put the Venlil’s tampering on the list. And I invited a guest to speak about what affected humans have gone through.”
“I appreciate what you’re going for, but this might not be the most sympathetic audience for ‘a predator wanting to regain the ability to eat flesh.’ I’m surprised the UN saw that as a good strategy. Who did you invite?”
“Me,” a gruff voice echoed behind me.
Noah failed to mask his obvious surprise, as he sighted a red-haired human with a twisted nose and crisscrossed scars below each eye socket. Marcel Fraser was almost as well-known as my astronaut, after the footage of his torture was broadcast to billions across the galaxy; if any Terran could be a sympathetic face to the Sapient Coalition listeners, this was the one. There were some controversies around what happened with Slanek, of course, but by all accounts, Marcel was a long-suffering, herbivorous hero. He was also well-acquainted with how Venlil thought, and could frame why it was important to seek remediation, even for a vegetarian.
It's all part of my plan, because what the SC really needs to talk about is beyond cured humans. It’s about any omnivores forcibly converted into herbivory who want to go back.
That idea would be a touchy subject, given how taboo predator diets had been throughout our lives. It took concentrated efforts to turn a blind eye to how Terrans operated; the first time Noah had a “ham-and-cheese” sandwich around me back at his place, I’d felt my years of brainwashing try to desapientize the man I loved. On the bright side, at least it wasn’t blood-soaked, carcass munching like I envisioned that first time on Aafa together. If someone told me I’d accept nourishment of that kind, years ago…but it didn’t matter. I understood the nutritional requisites some species had, and whether the intent was to go back to omnivory or avoid allergic reactions, other SC races should have a say in their diet too.
I extended a paw in the human handshake gesture. “Marcel! I’m delighted to see you again, under much more pleasant circumstances than on war-torn Earth or the prior time at the outpost.”
“I’m glad to be doing something to help, Gover…Ambassador. It does sting a little that all of these listeners will just see me as the poster boy of human victimhood,” Marcel sighed. “I’m here to make everyone feel more sorry for me than they already do, right?”
“Put your chin up, unless you feel sorry for yourself! The Federation has done shitty things, and several of those shitty things happened to you: you are the perfect spokesperson for millions affected by this. But why we’re really here is to fix this mess, and you’re here to convince them it needs fixing. Like it or not, you have sway over choices made at the highest echelons of government. Clear all your uncertainty and decide how you plan to use that power.”
Noah whistled in appreciation. “What she said. It’s good for us to see you here, standing tall, from where you were not too long ago. You don’t just earn pity…you’re a damn inspiration, a testament to the human spirit.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve always tried to do right by people, and believe me, there’ll be no theatrics needed for what this cure has taken from me.” Marcel forced a smile, shoving his hands in his pockets. His hazel eyes swirled with brooding intensity. “I volunteered for the prototype antidote. The risks are worth it to me. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all our researchers, but having the Archives spell out exact gene edits is what made it feasible. I wonder whether you’ll pursue reverse mods for the Venlil.”
I tilted my head to one side. “Yes, Noah and I were just discussing that. It’s definitely something almost every Venlil can agree on, and I have Veln’s blessing to declare our intention to move forward with the reversal. On the debate stage, he acknowledged that we both see this as important to our people. The UN has been tabulating which changes need undoing for us since the Archives.”
“That’s awesome. I wish Slanek was here to see that. He couldn’t stand…seeing what they did to you.”
My astronaut scowled. “I don’t support what your buddy did, but I get it. It infuriates me that Tarva’s lived her whole life, deprived of basic things, because someone hundreds of years ago decided to kidnap her ancestors’ children and transform their genome.”
“It wasn’t so bad until we knew what had been taken from us,” I sighed. “But don’t worry. I’ll do what it takes to see that future generations aren’t shackled, for humans or Venlil. The stage is all yours, Marcel, if you’re ready.”
The red-haired human nodded. “No sense delaying. I’ll be going—short and sweet.”
I offered a polite wave to the former UN soldier, who’d been cured during an incident at the Battle of Mileau. What I hadn’t told Noah when mentioning Venlil genetic reversal was the decision I’d reached for myself; with my safety on the line, I wasn’t sure he’d approve. The Archives files of “45-G” detailed the exact modifications the Farsul made, with unique specificity, even compared to info on the protovirus used for different cure bioweapons. That entire file cluster was a changelog for my species. The Terrans had run simulations suggesting they could reverse the gene edits for Venlilkind, but it might be difficult to persuade others of my kind to trust those supposed corrections.
For starters, we would never enjoy the benefits of properly developed limbs or olfactory organs. Still, if we wanted to erase the Farsul’s impact on our society, the majority of the herd needed to choose to go back to our empowered selves. It was a tough sell when it could have consequences for us in the present, and entailed having our DNA altered by another group of aliens. The success of the reversal, and any side effects on newly-grown children, wouldn’t be seen for years. That left the…other part of my plan. It was going to be one fireball of a topic to broach with Noah; I hadn’t asked how the human felt about children. Obviously, it wasn’t possible between the two of us, so starting a family never had a reason to come up.
Noah would make a wonderful father, but even if he’s somehow okay with this outlandish idea, it won’t truly be his kid. Bloodlines are important to humans, as I understand it.
Marcel stepped to the podium, clearing his throat. “Hello. Ambassadors of the Sapient Coalition, it’s an honor. I’ve always loved the diversity of life on my homeworld, and though finding it in the stars has brought a ton of suffering for me and my people, it is wonderful to see dozens of races that do share our vision. Maybe other humans haven’t told you this, but we revered and feared extraterrestrials when you were the stuff of myth. I find that our fears may have lacked…imagination. An attempt to destroy our planet, followed by a bioweapon designed to force fundamental changes upon us, bested our spooky sci-fi tropes.”
The Thafki ambassador raised a paw. “Excuse me? You’re Marcel, right? The one that was beaten half to death?”
“Um, of course, I should’ve introduced myself. Most of you know me as the exchange participant who was taken prisoner, and got this face makeover from a Gojid’s claws, with a complimentary ten days of starvation. Fun times. What you may not know is that I was later dosed by an aerosolized version of the cure, which triggered a severe initial reaction that left me bedridden for weeks. Breathing in vapors of animal products…it can send me into anaphylaxis. I carry an epipen around at all times just in case now, even here.”
“You’re saying you’re a forcibly converted omnivore, like us,” Krakotl ambassador Nuela chirped.
“Precisely. I’m here to lay out why that’s a problem: a public health hazard for anyone who’s had the effects of this bioweapon passed along. I was already a vegetarian, yet the slightest trace of anything that’s an animal can kill me now. I can’t live on my homeworld, around my family. I shudder to think how many unexplained incidents occur on worlds of fully cured species. You can have sincere intentions never to go near predator food, but a bug accidentally gets in the meal or an animal brushes up against a crop you don’t wash fully? Problem. It could be you, your children, or anyone you care about; everyone’s biology reacts differently. Forced herbivorism cannot be allowed to exist in a free society.”
Mazic dignitary Quipa looked displeased. “I’m not an…omnivore, but wouldn’t undoing the cure mean people could eat meat? That really isn’t acceptable in our cultures. Maybe it should just be left alone, and the cured peoples can be more careful with food prep, rather than all of us opening the door to dead meals.”
“Look, I care about what I put in my body too. I always understood how you feel about predation, and how the idea of it sickens you. But if you believe in something this strongly, you won’t change your mind just because you have the choice to change. You believe that these societies are moral and righteous due to dietary abstinence, yet they don’t have the free will to do anything else: they’re forced to comply. How is it righteous at all when it’s the only path you can take? All the cure does is risk the lives of people who would supposedly stay the course regardless.”
I raised my tail. “For my fellow delegates’ information, Marcel will be on a human trial of a cure reversal drug, to test its efficacy. I can speak to the fact that Farsul gene edits are never harmless, and always about controlling anyone who defies their indoctrination.”
“Thank you, Ambassador. I’ve said my piece, but I wanted it to be clear how much suffering it’s caused me. I don’t feel that I deserve this. I don’t feel that your grandchildren deserve this either. I’ll take my leave, and according to my notes, you’re supposed to have a short recess to discuss this? Please support safety and choice.”
The red-haired human ducked his head, and some of the more Terran-familiar individuals tried to make smacking sounds against their desks to imitate applause. It was always refreshing to see bits of human culture catching on; I appreciated clapping as an unmissable way to let the speaker know their words were appreciated. Part of me wondered where Marcel Fraser—and Slanek—would be if not for his capture all those months ago. Another aspect of my brain wondered where the Venlil would be now, had we never been turned into our present state. I didn’t know if it would be a better outcome, but it would be more authentic.
Marcel is right about none of the gene-modded species deserving this. We need to make this right for the next generation. I have to hope Noah takes what I’m about to say well…
“Hey, Noah?” My chest was a bundle of nerves, though not in the same way as when I first accepted the binocular-eyed captain’s hail. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but can we have a word somewhere private? There’s something I need to tell you.”
The human flinched. “Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that. Have I done something wrong? Are we breaking up?”
“What? No! It has to do with…what we’re about to talk about, when I take the stage. Please, just…follow me.”
I scurried out of the meeting auditorium, finding my way to a private discussion chamber; Noah looked apprehensive, but shut the door behind him. What if he was offended by what I was about to propose, or despised the idea? Would he get angry that I recklessly wished to be among the first to have my gene edits undone, and bring an uncrippled child into the world? My ears bunched up with frustration, as I struggled to think how I would explain my sudden shift in future plans. The astronaut was growing more concerned by the moment, so I knew I needed to just spit it out.
“I’m getting the gene edits reversed. I want to be one of the first, to show my people they can trust it. Like Marcel said, the risks are worth it, to see what was taken from us undone,” I blurted.
Noah tapped his chin with his fingers. “Tarva…you know I’ll support your decision. You should have bodily autonomy. That said, it won’t change anything about your present circumstances, now or ever; it’s about the future generations. Is it worth the risk when there’s no, um, offspring?”
“Yeah. About that.”
“Oh. I…I see. It’s wonderful that you’re thinking about motherhood, though I admit I’m caught a bit off-guard. I, um, I know I should never say this aloud, but aren’t you past birthing age? You know, haven’t you hit menopause? Fuck, this is awkward.”
I recoiled in confusion. “Menopause? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Noah’s expression became more flustered. “It’s…human women, er, they stop getting periods and being able to have children during their…middle age? Gah, I’m going to stop talking. I really should’ve researched more about Venlil by now, but I didn’t even think of that.”
“That’s not a thing for us, or any other species that I’ve heard of. I love you humans, but you’re extremely strange on an anatomical level. Also, what’s a period?”
“Maybe…maybe you should talk about this with Sara? I don’t think I’m, um, qualified, in this department. But, I don’t have a problem with you wanting children, per se. It’s just, you know that’s not something that could happen between a human and a Venlil; that’s why you pulled me aside, right? Are you asking for an…open relationship? Frankly, I want to be exclusive.”
“I’m asking if you would be okay with me seeking a reverse-modded donor, so that you and I could raise a child, uncrippled and free of gene edits, as our own. If that would violate what you see as exclusivity or as starting a family…”
Noah was quiet for a few seconds. “Sorry, I’m processing that. Tarva, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If this is what you want, then we’ll make it work. I’ll love our little Venlil goober with all my heart.”
“I’m…so relieved that you’re okay with it. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need us to be a part of building that future generation. Our legacy.”
“I guess peace in the galaxy and saving the human race won’t be enough of a legacy?”
“Never hurts to add a little more. With you by my side, I feel like I can always go beyond what I ever dreamed was possible. Now let’s go get the SC on our side. I can’t wait to tell them all about our plans to restore the Venlil to our true selves.”
My human wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I gave him a grateful ear flick for his unwavering support. As long as the predator stood beside me, no challenge was insurmountable. Together, we returned to the main venue to rally our allies around the gene reversal program that would play a huge part in our future lives.
A/N - Chapter 160! Politics and lore come to life at the SC's first meeting, where Marcel and Tarva are prepared to talk about reversing the cure and the Venlil's crippling respectively. With her new role as Ambassador freeing her to have a personal life, Tarva has decided to take the gene mods and seek an uncrippled child. What do you think about the incredible progress on reversing the edits that's been made because of the Archives info? How do you feel about Tarva's hope for the futures, as well as how Marcel is doing since we last saw him?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting! The next main chapter you read is the start of the Battle of Aafa: it's going to be a wild ride!