The Nature of Predators - Gojid Refugee (4/9) (Patreon)

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Memory Transcription Subject: Talpin, Gojid Refugee

Date [standardized human time]: October 1, 2136

It was a lengthy ride on the crowded shuttle, as the humans didn’t push their warp drive at all—perhaps scrambling to get cattle pen preparations ready. I could barely get a wink of shuteye with predators lurking mere paces away from me. The humans did pass out rations from their limited supply of food and water, which left me confused why they’d have plant foodstuff at hand. The beasts must not have been stupid enough to come on a cattle raid without feed for the livestock. I wished I didn’t recognize the faces from my hometown…and wished they didn’t recognize me even more. The instant horror on their features, realizing that the Terrans captured the deaf-mute adolescent, might tip off the binocular-eyed soldiers: not to mention, one acquaintance could outright tell them.

It was terrifying, with the reality that this ship would likely be spacious compared to the pen we were bound for. As we finally landed on Earth’s contaminated soil, Berna pretended to doodle on a notepad, while writing out an announcement from the intercom for me. The humans were ordering us to line up single file and exit the ship, while threatening to tranquilize anyone who didn’t obey the instructions from the soldiers. I gulped, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hear a word of their instructions. Several monsters with menacing guns waited below the landing ramp, which I could see from my position in the cargo bay. Whatever growling voice was reading this flowery script also promised various comforts and needs. The final part of their announcement, which Berna relayed, took me by surprise.

“If you require medication or special accommodations, approach the nearest human in a white coat or red cross insignia.”

They do know that prey animals acquiesce to various liabilities, despite the drain on the herd. I won’t fall for that. It’s a trap, to try to lure out people like me so that the humans can torment them.

The “single-file line” command was amplifying my sickening dread, since all I wanted was to stay shoulder-to-shoulder with Berna as we faced our revolting reality. If I couldn’t bear how my own people—civilized creatures with empathy—treated me, how would I be able to endure the predators’ cruelty? The only certainty in my mind was that I needed to be strong for Berna; she was keeping it together for me. Just like I’d forced myself to board this ship, I willed my legs to carry me down into the open air. Through my expansive periphery, I soaked in every detail that I could make out. There was a chain-link fence to keep us locked in, but this was nicer than any cattle pen I’d ever learned about.

There was enough space here to fit an entire city block, rather than packing us in like animals. I gathered that the predators had improvised a pen from pre-existing infrastructure, after recognizing what could only be a hangar bay. There were so many of the monstrosities walking about, everywhere I looked. Humans were showing a capacity to emulate nurturing behavior, tending to wounded and giving out supplies with outward docility. Was this part of a long-term ruse, to convince other prey species that they should choose being cattle on Earth rather than with the Arxur? Perhaps they were trying to imitate prey behavior out of lowly self-preservation. Did the Terrans think they could convince the Federation to spare them…by pretending to be like us, acting like they didn’t want cattle at all?

That was positive news for our fate, if it was true. The issue would be hiding what was wrong with me, since that would show the disparity between how they’d pretend to “help” the herd. The human soldiers directed us to stand in small groups, as we waited for unknown instructions; thankfully, I could understand their pointing without any ears. The amount of binocular eyes was overstimulating, but I tried to focus on the few directly interacting with us. One of the unarmed predators was making an approach toward the huddle where I stood with Berna and about a dozen others. This one had more pronounced features on its upper body than most of the soldiers, which suggested some dimorphic differences. It was wearing a concealing helmet, which was painted soft colors, over its hideous skull.

“Hi, my name is Ava, and I’ll be your guide to everything this facility has to offer.” Berna scribbled the predator’s words out with fury, continuing to angle the pad toward me. She’d gotten excellent at hasty shorthand, for my sake. “Please, follow me; we’ll showcase the amenities, and end at the dormitories—you’ll be asked to complete a check-in there so we can keep track of how many refugees are here.”

“You have a word for refugees?” Berna asked aloud.

“Of course we do. That is how the United Nations views all of you. I’m sorry if there’s anything that’s lacking with our accommodations, but this is the best we could scramble on such short notice. Please do let us know if there’s something we could supply that’d improve your comfort. Might I ask what you’re writing?”

“I…I’m taking notes of what you’re saying for future reference. Is that allowed?”

“It most certainly is; in fact, I think it’s an excellent idea. I know that some people may be too distracted by fear to hear everything I say now, so it’s good to keep a record. Let’s start with the basics. The soldiers are here for your protection, but if you need anything at all, you can seek out any United Nations staffer. You’re free to go anywhere you like in the camp, but not outside it. If you’ll look back at that fence there, you’ll see a bunch of reporters with cameras.”

The predator clasped its hands in front of itself and waited, as it drew our attention to the masses of humans with cameras; I was floored that Terrans had reporters. Perhaps it was to document their most glorious hunts, which would be why so many turned out to film the first haul of alien cattle? It could also be used as a way to analyze which Gojids required culling, through atypical behaviors. Extra caution would be needed any time a lens was on me. If we were truly free to wander anywhere in this sprawling pen, I’d be best off hiding in tents as much as possible. I kept a meek and deferential posture, praying that none of the beasts would address me alone.

Berna’s wrist began moving again, suggesting Ava had returned to speaking. “You are the first aliens to land on Earth, so obviously there’s a lot of interest in your arrival. You’re allowed to talk with them if you so desire, and to say whatever you like—we have ardent free speech laws—but again, please stay behind the fence. I also must caution you that some of them get enthusiastic with their questioning, so with your fear of humans, it might not be a great idea.”

Maybe these reporters are some form of interrogators, determined to sniff out weakness? The humans could be trying to cover their predatory attributes with prey terminology.

“On a similar note regarding laws, I wish that this went without saying: let me stress we have laws against violence and theft. Please refrain from harming any of your fellow refugees, or any of our personnel,” Ava said, according to Berna’s transcript. “We only wish to help you. We…understand you want nothing to do with us, and we do want to return you to the Federation, like you’d prefer. However, those governments aren’t exactly open to talks with us, so we need time to get something in place.”

The suggestion that the predators would let us leave was bizarre, given that they’d taken us prisoner during a war with the Gojidi Union. While doubts swirled in my mind, I kept my head low and tailed after Ava—it seemed keen to identify the various points of interest that we’d be facing. The humans had labeled various large tents in our script for swift recognition, while the hangar our posse was bound for was labeled “Food and Amenities.” Tables for various needs were arranged, including stacks of blankets, specific products and nourishment tailored for babies, and even toiletries. How could corpse-loving filth begin to grasp the importance of hygiene? It wasn’t like they could wash away their own contaminants.

“This is your one-stop shop for all of your needs. Don’t worry, the food is tailored to your herbivorous lifestyle. On a side note, for the lovely young lady there who has a child, we’ve done our best to offer resources specifically for parents and kids. Educators have been brought in for various age levels, we have some children’s media available at the entertainment tent, and we also have a kids’ recreational area—a daycare or a playground, as you desire. For the infants, we have children’s cribs, pacifiers, and breastfeeding aids available at request. I don’t know how much of that you need, but we’ve tried to cover our bases.”

Arxur wouldn’t have a clue how to raise children like that. Could the Terrans really have imitated all of this on the spot? It’s almost too preylike.

Ava stood by idly, as the less timid members of the group went to retrieve some snacks and water. Berna ventured away for the two of us, and returned with some dried fruit to munch on. Finding myself more than willing to stress eat, I devoured the sweet goodness that she brought back. The Terrans had gone quite far in making this a lavish cattle pen, indeed. It was frightful nevertheless to be in their presence, even with most volunteers here wearing some form of visor. I was grateful to move on, hoping this tour would be over soon—and I wouldn’t have to be worried about my deafness showing. I eyed the medical station as we passed it, looking for signs of bite marks on the patients.

“If you or a fellow refugee has medical issues, this is where you want to go; you can also ask the medics to come to you, or notify any of the security. We’re currently treating some stampede victims that we were able to save and bring here.” It is plausible that these injuries came from the stampede carnage. “This is also the place to go if you need prescriptions or have some sort of medical condition. These are professionals who can decide what’s best to help you.”

I know what predators will think is best to “help me.” Maybe some of those “prescriptions” they stockpile are poisons to quietly put me down or sterilizers to take me out of the gene pool. A less messy and attention-drawing way of culling.

The human pointed out shared facilities near the dormitories, which would be used for hygiene purposes, though it didn’t linger on that note. It strolled forward on its lanky legs, gesturing to what it referred to as a library: no doubt, the books and other media contained within it were predator-diseased, and wouldn’t have been allowed on the cradle. At least it was an attempt to keep us contented, though it would likely do anything but. Imagining a predator telling a story, like Gojid coming-of-age tales that I loved so much, was laughable. I was relieved the tour progressed, before my ridiculing laughter was noticed. It moved on to what appeared to be a mess hall, with tables.

“I don’t know how important it is to share your meals together, or just to have somewhere that’s meant to sit down and eat your food. There will also be some warm foods available here if you want complex meals, behind those shuttered metal panes in the far wall.” Berna had flipped through several pages, keeping up with the predator’s unending jabbering. Ava steered us away from the tables in this spare receptacle, in through a side hall. “I promise, we’re close to the end, friends. This is the rec hall, right next door. We’ve assembled some games we think you might like, as well as a few television sets to watch any media you pick out. Please, take a look around.”

Curious what a predator would deem to be a game, I wandered through the space with slow footsteps; it was what Ava had requested of us, after all, so it wouldn’t be angry over my compliance. I ambled up to a small table with handles protruding from its sides, which rotated when I touched them. They seemed to be control levers for metal bars above the surface. Human silhouettes with their feet melded together were dangling from the bar, spinning in all directions. I couldn’t begin to imagine what the purpose of this was, and why there was a small stone dropped between them. Another “game” had sand spilled all over a table, which had several lines etched across it; metal disks of two different colors were stationed on one end.

These Terran playthings seemed strange, though perhaps I couldn’t understand them because of my lack of hunting knowledge. Shaking my head in bewilderment, I decided to move on. I roamed toward a television, noting unusual sitting devices; were these supposed to be seats? The peculiar, egg-shaped sacks filled with beads gave way to the touch, and I tested one out of curiosity. The flimsy material was oddly comfortable, making it easier to lean back. My raised spines punctured the fabric, which led me to jump away. I hoped Ava hadn’t noticed I damaged its property. The human had a narrow field of vision, so there was hope it had missed my misstep.

Trying to look natural, I completed my tour by wandering up to the shelf. There were a few rectangular boxes, which when popped open, revealed plastic surfaces with squares and writing. The one I grabbed had a six-sided die in a glass cage; predators would truly trap anything. Whatever the object of the game was, it likely had to do with attacking the die into obeying their will—giving them a sense of control over luck. I was going to inspect the other board games, but Berna tugged on my arm. My heartbeat quickened, as she mouthed that the predator was calling for me to move on. I flicked my claws apologetically, and tried to look timid.

“I appreciate the curiosity, but it’s time to move on. When we’re done, you can circle straight back here if you like, and perhaps you’ll enjoy some of these new activities.” My sister hastily jotted down the words Ava directed at me, and I nodded in the gesture I knew meant “yes” to humans. “Well, you guys are a tough crowd. We’re on to the last stop on the tour, and then, once I get your info, I’ll assign bunks and be out of your hair. Follow me one last time.”

I blinked my eyes shut, grateful that I’d gotten out of the Terran’s crosshairs; the nod likely saved me from further questioning about why I wasn’t answering. It took a different exit than the one it ushered us in through, weaving a path toward two tents manned by humans on the far side, away from the landing pad. The booth on the left side had a winding line of Gojids, even longer than those queueing up to acquire food and belongings; meanwhile, there wasn’t a single refugee waiting for the booth on the right side. The predators at the vacant canopy seemed a bit deflated, as if waiting for anyone to drop by had sapped their spirits.

What are they offering, that no Gojids are going up to them; perhaps something predatory, such as weapons? Why would so many refugees be willing to march up to these beasts for the left tent?

Ava pointed to the tent on the left. “Right over here, you’ll be able to locate or search for any friends or loved ones who might’ve left the cradle on another ship. We’ll be keeping records of the missing, and also be arranging a memorial for you to mourn those you’ve lost. I’m afraid we don’t know much about your culture, so if there’s traditions we need to observe, let us know. This goes as a general rule; we’ll be happy to prop up a new tent for any religious observances or traditions that are important. Just tell us.”

“What’s the station on the right?” Berna ventured, seeming a bit more sure of herself; I was worried she was falling for some of its deception. “It doesn’t seem busy.”

“That’s an excellent question. This is an information desk, for anyone who would like to learn more about humans, Earth, or just to chat with one of us. We’d love for some of you to get to know us better, in order to free yourself from the nasty misconceptions you have. I understand you’re shy to approach us, but I promise that we’d be delighted to be your friends. If you need a shoulder to cry on, you might be surprised at what good listeners we are.”

I see why it’s empty. Who the fuck would want to pour their heart out to an unfeeling monster? I don’t want to know anything more about Earth or humans than I have to, just to stay alive another day.

The Terran wrapped up the tour on that laughable note, herding us back toward the dormitories; after not sleeping at all, having a bit more distance between us and the circling humans might make it easier to drift off. I couldn’t wait to collapse in the bunk, though I knew we needed to register ourselves with the camp first. After all, the predators needed to have some records to monitor if any of their quarry escaped. I kept close to Berna, grateful that she’d helped to hide me and keep me informed throughout the tour. The cattle pen didn’t seem nearly as unthinkable as I’d imagined, but that did not mean I was safe. As soon as we had a moment alone, we had to plan how I’d mask my disability and stay off the humans’ radar. It was a matter of time before they found out, yet I needed to do what I could for her sake.

The less I ventured off, the better odds I’d have of making it a few days on the predator homeworld.

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A/N - Part 4! Talpin and Berna arrive at the refugee camp, finding that it's nothing like a cattle pen; we catch a glimpse of what amenities were offered to the Gojids that arrived on Earth, and how they doubted those kindnesses. Talpin is still set on hiding his disability, despite humans' explicit offer of special assistance for anyone who needs it, and can't imagine talking to a predator. What will our narrator think when he realizes that there's no ulterior motives behind our kindness? Will it change his mind to see how humans treat deaf people, compared to other Gojids?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!