The Nature of Predators - Gojid Refugee (1/?) (Patreon)

Memory Transcription Subject: Talpin, Gojid Citizen

Date [standardized human time]: September 21, 2136

They didn’t know I could lipread.

Granted, it was a skill that I’d only refined as I got closer to adulthood. My lipreading wasn’t a perfect system, of course, but it didn’t have to be. Certain shapes corresponded to certain words in the Gojid tongue, which could grant me insight into what people were saying with moderate accuracy, as long as I focused on their lip movements. It was how Berna, my sister, relayed information to me, often exaggerating her mouth’s shape to convey the words. That precluded me from visual eavesdropping on alien races, who had their own languages which I couldn’t discern. Still, I could guess what they were saying, believing I was oblivious, just by knowing what my species thought of me.

Blessed Fields was a small village which, in its founding, was created to honor the memory of the Great Protector. The symbolic claws, carved out of stone by a religious artist, still hung over the fields and formed the city gates. This township was firmly rooted in a history of traditions, the proud legacy of following in the footsteps of others and preserving the cradle’s prey-ordained beauty. Most families had been here for generations, and passed down their knowledge to each successor in their lineage. That also meant that everyone knew everyone else, and while that might’ve led to most residents feeling like a collective herd, it made me a clear outsider. My situation—my deafness—was the focus of much gossip, for a variety of reasons. My father was the town’s plant musician, as part of the ancient Gojid belief that crops bloomed better with tunes gracing their leaves; he excelled at playing the clawpad, the whistlereed, and the Protector’s Harp.

There were obvious reasons I couldn’t take up that profession, as was our familial tradition. Whenever others delighted in music’s beauty, or marveled at my father’s talents, I felt left out. I witnessed the pitying remarks of the townsfolk, lamenting that my dad had a son that couldn’t carry on his legacy. Shit, his kid couldn’t even go to school to get a proper education, since he wouldn’t hear the lessons; after not being taught by the herd, it was possible he had predator disease. I guessed some thought my brain didn’t work at all, along with my ears, given how they spoke like Berna was stuck coddling an imbecile. She deserved a “real sibling”, they said, but instead was saddled with a liability. Then, there were the sympathetic comments like I was receiving now at the fruit market, talking like my life was miserable.

“Can you imagine living like that? It’s hardly a life at all,” Salcic, the store clerk, commented to a coworker, as he bagged the citrus fruits I’d been craving. “Talpin can never…talk to people. Can’t hear birdsong…or predators coming up right behind him, snarling! It must be so lonely, soulless, and terrifying.”

The coworker studied me, as I watched in mute silence. “It’s a sad story. I feel sorry for his parents, having to raise a child that can never be a full Gojid.”

“I can’t imagine the strain it puts on his whole family, Kittia. It’s sick irony, a musician’s child born deaf. Talpin will never even know how much of life he’s missing. Hell, he doesn’t have a clue what we’re saying now.”

As a matter of fact, I do. I hate how people act like I’m not even here. They look right through me…and the patronizing looks, when I write down what I want to say on paper. I wish someone would treat me normal.

Kittia passed me the bag, hardly able to look at me as I scanned my credit strip. “On the bright side, hopefully he doesn’t have a clue what anyone’s saying…about those nasty predators, on their way as we speak. Coming to take us all as cattle, and already having…dissected our space outposts. It could be worse than an Arxur raid.”

“If I was Berna, I’d take Talpin, and use him as bait for the humans in case she needs to get away. I know it sounds harsh, but it’s not like he can escape from a sapient predator. His weakness makes him the kind of prey they’d target by their nature,” Salcic commented.

“The humans wouldn’t guess he’s deaf in the first place to target him. Predators cull such weakness. It’s not like they’re capable of empathy, or caring for each other.”

“Maybe we should let them know about his condition, since it’ll take their attention off of us. The weakest member of the herd could slow them down. They’d have to stop to eat their morsel…perhaps even fight over the honor. In many ways, they’d be doing him and his family a favor. Who would want to live like that—with that?”

“I sure wouldn’t. We all know who contributes the least to the herd in this town, so if someone has to be eaten, then it’s best for everyone if it’s Talpin. Still, I don’t want to outright pass him off to the predators; that’s cold. You know what they’ll do to him, Salcic.”

“Yeah, yeah. I was being hypothetical; I’m not a monster, like them. I just wouldn’t risk other Gojid lives for him, if it comes down to it. He’ll slow any valuable individuals down. Leave him to his own devices, and he won’t last a day!”

Fury bubbled in my chest, along with a healthy dose of fear. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the receipt, scribbling words out in rough script. “Is this what you call empathy? Leaving me to be eaten by the predators?”

I slapped it down in front of the two, noticing Salcic and Kittia go slack-jawed as they read what I wrote. It wasn’t often that I tipped off that I knew what they were saying, but it just wore on me: nobody had anything positive to say about me, or how I managed in spite of my disability. Despite what these two store employees might think of my faculties, I was more than capable of reading the news articles on the internet. My eyes were more than capable of looking at the bone-chilling images of those human flesh-beasts. Imagining them on the cradle, ravaging through Blessed Fields, as I was deafened to the screams of Gojids ripped apart alive…that was something I could picture. It was wrong that I’d be a weakness for my family to tote around.

What if I get Berna, or my parents killed, because I can’t hear something at the wrong moment? What if the humans do figure out there’s a prey adolescent who can’t hear them coming, and make it their cruel pastime to toy with me? Their bloodlust will be tickled by my singular weakness! I’m a mockery, even to my own people.

“Talpin, you can tell what we’re saying? I’m sorry…I didn’t think you would know the difference,” Salcic sighed. “We didn’t mean it, of course, we’re just frightened…of being hunted by these things.”

I waved my claws at him in a hostile gesture, stomping off with my bag in tow. The town greenhouse stood between me and a return to our home, where I could break down sobbing and nobody would see enough to critique my mental state. Farmers from multiple families tended the plants in the massive greenhouse, which took up several blocks, and I often found myself thinking they were more fond of the vegetables than of me. What the store clerks said about me not being a full Gojid…it was something I was plenty aware of. I wasn’t sure what our family was going to do if the hideous new predators made it through to the cradle. However, perhaps I should set off on my own, to avoid burdening them or getting them killed while we were being hunted.

Tears welled in my eyes, as I hurried back toward our home; I couldn’t remember passing the greenhouse, or turning right down the dirty path. Berna was out on the porch, playing the whistlereed, as my father listened with pride. Pride that I would never see on his face, at least not directed toward me. Maybe I shouldn’t have let my lack of hearing be a hindrance. I could’ve learned the intensity to blow into the whistlereed, along with the feel of air and where to press my claws, which elicited contentment from them. Even if I couldn’t enjoy it, I should’ve asked them to let me try. Being able to do that might’ve quelled some of the townsfolk’s gossip over me being a disappointment, or their misconception that I was a dysfunctional Gojid.

Berna lowered the whistlereed, hurrying over to me. “Tal. What’s wrong? Was someone rude to you, or…”

I passed her the groceries, before walking over to the whiteboard pinned on the outer wall to write. “I’ll get you killed, or make you a target, when the humans raid us. I don’t want to be the reason you get eaten, or singled out for your weakness. I’m enough of a burden.”

“You’re not a burden.” My sister shook my shoulders, trying to emphasize her words. “We won’t let anyone hurt you. I love you, Tal, and I’m going to protect you from these savage monsters.”

“You can’t. And you shouldn’t have to.”

“Whatever any Gojid that doesn’t know you says, I’m your family, and I like having you here. Let’s not go panicking. These humans are primitive brutes, and we have some of the best defenses to stop a raid, ever since Sovlin’s Stand. Anti-air defenses to shoot down their ships, if they try to land. Fortified bases outside the cities. Exterminator squads deeper in, ready to burn those scum if they somehow get inside. It’s not like the humans can surprise us. They won’t get to you.”

The board was getting cluttered. I erased the previous words, feeling tears continue to drip down my cheeks. “And if they do?”

“They won’t.” My father moved in beside Berna, speaking slowly for my sake. “We’re the ones the Federation calls in to defend other people. Besides, we’re excellent at keeping predators away—just like we learned from the Great Protector. We have Her blessing against these filthy, cursed beasts; this is a sacred village. We’ll hunker down in our homes, and trust in Her.”

“But what if the Protector doesn’t keep them away? What if they get in? You didn’t answer my question.”

Berna pressed a paw to my shoulders. “Then, knowing what atrocities those monsters are capable of, w-we’re all doomed. They’ll wipe us out, like they’ve done to their own kind, or take us captive as belongings…like they’ve also done to their own kind, who weren’t prey. Humans are cruel and evil beings. With or without you, Talpin, we’d be as good as dead at that point.”

“I don’t want to give up. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“We’ll get through this, Tal. Pa’s right; I have confidence in our defenses to hold up, just like they do against the Arxur. If it comes to that, we’ll hide together. Thanks to you, we have the food to stay indoors for a while. Hunkering down is the best option, unless we have to make a run for it. Protector knows, Gojids can’t outrun any predators.”

“You don’t have to outrun them. You just have to outrun me.” I struggled to fit the last words on the bottom of the board, and furiously erased once she’d read it. “You know it’s true.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

My father clapped a paw on my shoulder. “Why don’t we try to think positive thoughts, and pray to the Protector? Let us have faith, and continue on as if we know She is going to keep us from harm. Whether they’re sapient or not, She is more powerful. She is capable.”

I flicked my claws in agreement, not wanting to agitate my old man. Secretly, I wasn’t very confident in the Great Protector’s abilities, after she’d allowed Arxur to storm through neighborhoods and eat people on the cradle not too long ago; it was the renowned Captain Sovlin who put a stop to that, not our deity. Besides, I didn’t exactly feel blessed, given my lacking of hearing; my father couldn’t see this village as anointed, when he’d sired a deficient child like me. Berna was a worthier successor in every way—not that I envied her for it. I was sorry to hold her back, and to make her the object of everyone’s gossip alongside me. She’d be too hurt by losing me, but if it came down to saving her life or leaving her stuck with me, I’d make that decision for her.

Their plan is just to hunker down anyway. I’d scout out hiding spots in the house for us, and try to help, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Predators can smell us—the incentivizing aroma of our blood—from miles away. Best to stay inside and pray, like my father says.

I decided that it would be best to leave Berna and my father to enjoy their music sessions—something I couldn’t partake in, and could only interfere with—and ambled inside to the living room. My claws switched on the television set, in the hopes that some of the moving images would give me a visual update on how close the raiding fleet was. Instead, I saw more images from that Terran ambassador’s speech, with a Venlil standing alongside of it. It seemed that the feeble species had just surrendered to those demons, and were going along with whatever deceitfulness they asked for; no prey lifeform would ever trust something with those features. Maybe Gojids should submit to these creatures, and spare ourselves the visceral horror of their cattle squads roaming about, murdering citizens indiscriminately.

Or perhaps, since the Venlil hadn’t even tried to fend them off, we’d be able to pull off another miracle. Heroes like Captain Sovlin were still out there, willing to risk everything against abominations to protect the cradle. Berna’s thoughts about trusting our defenses…that was best thing I could do, rather than dwell in anxiety about becoming coveted prey for the humans. If the Terrans didn’t get through our walls, then I wasn’t a problem. Blessed Fields could go on as normal, without any predators defiling our lands, and I could go back to my primary existence as a social pariah. Between getting ripped from limb to limb, or hearing Gojids talk about me like my life had zero value, I wasn’t sure which was the slower, crueler death. What the clerks said at the store about me being bait wouldn’t leave my head.

I jotted down notes to myself as a grounding tool, worried that panic would interfere in the moment. “Act as bait if predators come into the house. Get them to chase you. Don’t let your fear win, until you need to run from them.”

I affixed it to the back of my holopad, and sucked in a deep breath. There wasn’t much to do but wait until the humans arrived at the cradle, and do everything in my power to prevent my family from getting killed because of me. I wasn’t going to be the reason people pitied my relatives, should the invasion reach our village. Berna wasn’t going to go down protecting me, or trying to compensate for my deficiencies. I’d be a hero, just like the selfless Sovlin…and maybe that would finally change how Gojids talked about me. I could be remembered as more than the deaf kid who’d never be a full sapient.

Next

A/N - A new miniseries, going back in time to the start of the NOP1 era! We see the first canon look at what the cradle was like, before its destruction, and also catch a glimpse at life for the disabled. Talpin is the subject of gossip, pity, and disparaging remarks, as the plant musician's son who can't continue the family trade; Berna tries to reassure him, after the townsfolk suggest that he's a liability and that humans will eat him first. What will our narrator think after the Gojid defenses don't hold up? Will his family be able to survive what comes next?

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