NOP: The Rejects of Sillis (10)

Here's another chapter. This one's later than usual and it's totally my fault. I watched the Fallout TV show and had to play New Vegas every second of my free time for several days straight. Such is life. Anyways, enjoy!

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The Nature of Predators Universe was originally created by .

Content Warning: Isaac has another panic attack in this chapter.

Chapter Ten: Putting a Krakotl in Silent Mode

Memory Transcription Subject: Raksim

Date [standardized human time]: October 29th, 2136

Contrary to the Federation’s dogma, predators are not stealthy or deceptive. In actuality, they’re quite easy to track. They don’t erase their footprints; they leave fur or feathers everywhere, and they don't make any effort to mask their scent. If those methods of finding them fail, you can always set one of their dens on fire. The mewling calls of the little ones inside will draw the parents into the open, where they’re much easier to exterminate. 

Arxur are similarly easy to stalk, not because of their simple-mindedness–like their nonsapient ilk–but due to their arrogance. Every one of them, even the skinny and maltreated lower ranks, thinks of themselves as superior in every way to their prey. Thus, they don’t temper themselves. They move loudly, talk flagrantly, and don’t pay very much attention to their surroundings. Arxur commanders are especially easy to identify, they love shouting orders at the top of their lungs and abusing their subordinates. 

At several points during my career, me and my exterminators have followed arxur for [kilometers] and fell upon them when they dropped their guard. If you are out of sight and downwind, you might as well be intangible to them.

I didn’t have to use any of my previous knowledge to find Isaac. He was screaming and cursing so loudly that I could hear him through the forest’s canopy, even with the wind rushing past my ears. I used the noise as a beacon to glide high and fast in his approximate direction.

I should have trained my eyes on the ground, but the vast landscape that stretched out before me naturally drew them. Trees sheltered the ground all the way to the horizon, occasionally broken up by a road, river, or quaint little dwelling. Some retained their verdant colors; others were turning fiery red, warm shades of orange, or yellow as the seasons changed. It wasn’t too different from the algae blooms that occasionally turned Nishtal’s brackish waters into a canvas of swirling, ever-changing color. The life I led had brought me to dozens of planets, possibly hundreds. All of them were beautiful in their own way.

Another string of expletives exploded from the forest floor. This time, it seemed to be coming from directly below me. I tipped my wings and spiraled downward until I met a branch that was sturdy enough to support my weight.

I listened closely and detected leaves rustling beneath me, accompanied by heavy, panting breaths. I peered through the crisscrossing tree limbs and spotted movement on the forest floor. I hopped and fluttered from branch to branch in pursuit of it, only stopping once I had an unobstructed view of Isaac. 

He stopped his advance not far from a river I caught sight of while in the air. He paced back and forth like a cornered animal, agitation growing with every step until he tore the helmet off his head and threw it against an evergreen, producing a crack that echoed across the river. He stomped up to the same tree and beat it with his fists until the energy and rage drained from his body. He collapsed with his back resting against the trunk, whipped the padded gloves off his hands, and ran his fingers through the short fur on his head. I couldn’t see Isaac’s face, but the shaky breaths that met my ears made it obvious that he was crying. 

I wasn’t equipped for handling such an emotional situation, so I remained on my perch for several [minutes] until the Lieutenant steadied himself enough to close his eyes and rested his head against the bark behind him. 

I silently glided to Isaac’s tree and stepped down the limbs until I was just [2 meters] above his head. Then, I let myself fall forward while maintaining my grip on the branch below me. I ended up hanging upside down by my feet. The action was completely silent, save for the faint scraping of my talons against the bark. It didn’t draw the Lieutenant's attention, so I whistled to him.

Isaac quickly opened his eyes and scanned the forest around him.

“Up here, Lieutenant.”

His eyes tracked upward. “What are you doing, old man?”

“Just hanging out, as you humans say.” I clacked my beak together twice to punctuate the joke.

My pitiful attempt at injecting levity bore fruit. For the briefest moment, the corners of Isaac’s mouth twitched upward into a smile, but he suppressed it just as quickly as it appeared and stared at the ground between his legs. 

I snapped my beak to get his attention. “There’s no point in brooding! Get up!”

“And do what, old man?! I just assaulted one of my soldiers!” he shouted back.

“You avoided being arrested once. With a little thinking, you can do it again, unless you want to swim across that river and disappear into the woods forever.”

His gaze shifted to the sandbar on the other side of the waterway.

“That was also a joke. I won’t let you do that.”

“You're not very funny,” he said morosely.

“I think I’m hysterical, but that might be due to the blood rushing to my head. Would you kindly catch me?”

“What?”

“Catch me!” I let go of the branch and landed softly in Isaac’s arms rather than on the hard, unforgiving ground. I rolled out of his embrace and stood on my own two feet. “Thank you.”

After an awkward pause, Isaac stood as well. He gathered up the training gear he had scattered around during his breakdown and looked at me expectantly. 

“Lead the way, Lieutenant. You know the terrestrial route better than me.” 

Isaac sighed and hesitantly set off through the trees.

“How are you planning to get out of this one?” I asked as I walked alongside him.

“I don't know,” he said with his gaze set firmly forward.

“The Colonel is quite xenophobic. It could be useful to appeal to that bias.”

Isaac glared down at me.

“It was just a suggestion. If you are unable or unwilling to do such a thing, it would be no problem for me. In fact, I find being racist rather easy.”

He rolled his eyes and looked forward again, falling silent as he pondered what to do next. The forest was all I could hear–trees rustling, other avian creatures whistling, and leaves crunching under our feet…

“Not to interrupt your thinking, but how did you get so good at bayonet fighting?”

Isaac chuckled to himself. “In my old unit, we alleviated our boredom by making pugil sticks out of whatever we could find and beating the crap out of each other.

“You beat each other regularly for amusement? Humans truly are savages!” I exclaimed sarcastically.

Another eye roll. “No one ever got seriously hurt.”

“That’s not very reassuring. Care to explain why you’re serving with us instead of these men?”

“No,” the Lieutenant said with a finality that signaled the end of our conversation. 

My question was admittedly brazen, but it's best to take the most direct route first when looking for an answer. If I had to pry further to learn more about Isaac and hopefully understand his extreme bouts of fear and anger, then so be it. I was up to such a challenge.

As we crossed the forest’s threshold back into civilization, all eyes were on us. The Platoon Sergeant's gaze was particularly disdainful, but the most important set of eyes were those of the Colonel and the Captain. Rainach directed a menacing stare at us while Andrews looked directly forward and tried to project a calm image of herself. But her wringing hands portrayed her anxiety.

The sergeants had organized four separate sparring matches while we were away. The participants, both human and alien, were making slow and half-hearted jabs at each other. The officers’ encouragement, which came in the form of shouting, wasn’t having any effect. It would seem that the Lieutenant's outburst put a damper on everyone’s spirits.

Isaac dropped the gear he carried in a pile and called them to attention. “Two people in this group will be able to go to bed two hours early; whichever alien wins the most matches, and whichever human wins the most. I’ll let you decide who it’s going to be.”

The competitors eyed each other with equal parts suspicion and determination. A gojid broke the tension by tackling his sparring partner to the ground and plunging the red side of his pugil stick into the human’s stomach. The Russians that surrounded them cheered, and the sparring matches started up again with much more enthusiastic participants this time.

If I had to make one compliment to the Lieutenant, he had a talent for motivating people. The opportunity to earn extra sleep, combined with chronic sleep deprivation, could turn soulmates into the bitterest of rivals.

Isaac surveyed his men and allowed himself a small smile before trudging toward his superiors the same way a PD patient does on the way to electroshock therapy. Nedelin positioned himself within earshot of the conversation while keeping his eyes on the sparring match he was monitoring.

“Care to explain what the fuck is going on here, Lieutenant?” Rainach spat.

Andrews gave Isaac a pleading look, trying to prevent him from saying anything unwise. 

Isaac’s response was astonishingly evasive. “Just a training incident, sir,”

He pointed at Kaero. “You mean to tell me that was an accident?” One of her eyes had swollen shut, and green blood trickled from her nose. Daego was shining a light in her other eye, much to her annoyance.

“Incident, not accident. Sometimes we need to remind the xenos of their place; you know how it is,” Isaac said with a forced smile.

Rainach was silent for a moment before he broke into a snarl as well. “Lieutenant, that is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Isaac’s face fell. “Sir?”

“I already know you’re a xeno-fucker. You put them in thigh-highs for God’s sake.”

Isaac’s face twisted like he wanted to burst out laughing and scream with frustration at the same time. At the edge of my peripheral vision, I spotted Nedelin trying and failing to hide a snicker.

“Nonetheless,” I interjected, “this problem is that yotul’s making. The Lieutenant was taking disciplinary action.”

The Colonel glared at me. “We’ll see if that primitive says the same thing. Medic, get your ass over here!”

Kaero tried to shoo her sister away, but Daego signaled her stubborn refusal to leave with her ears. The older sister huffed and made her way over while the younger of the two waited.

“What-” The yotul began at an unusually high pitch. She plugged one of her nostrils, ejected a clot of green blood out of the other, and started again with her voice back to normal. “What is it?”

The Colonel’s face twisted with disgust. “Explain what led up to your incident with Lieutenant Yankovic.”

She wiped the remaining blood off her nose with the back of her paw. “Me and him had a disagreement and decided to settle it in the ring.”

“How did that escalate?”

“I may have dropped-kicked him,” she replied indifferently.

“And that’s when it turned into a fistfight?

“Yes.”

“So you agree that you were the one who escalated?”

Kaero’s eyes flicked to her Lieutenant for a moment. “I’d say it was a mutual effort… but I’m the one who’s most responsible.”

Rainach turned to Isaac. “Tell you what, Lieutenant–since your bird wasn’t lying–I’ll go easy on you. You, your advisor, and your Platoon Sergeant are going to an anger management program tomorrow morning to improve your conflict resolution skills. Any further discipline is up to your Captain’s discretion.”

Isaac froze in place, save for his jaw. It twitched and made a series of unintelligible syllables before suddenly snapping shut and falling silent.

I used his dumbfoundedness as an opportunity to air my grievances about Rainach’s decisions. “Why am I being punished?! Or the Platoon Sergeant, for that matter?! Me and him had nothing to do–”

Isaac suddenly seized my beak and held it shut. I struggled and tried to pull myself out of his grip, but it just caused him to squeeze tighter. He spoke in a low growl through his teeth. “Shut the fuck up, old man.”

Turning my claws on him wasn’t worth the consequences, which would likely involve him snapping my neck, so I huffed through my nostrils to show my disapproval and didn’t make any further efforts to escape. 

“Sir, we have a ruck march early tomorrow,” Isaac said while clearly suppressing the urge to strangle either me or the Colonel. “Could we go to anger management on another day?”

“No, I’d want this issue dealt with as soon as possible,” Rainach said with a sadistic smile.

“Understood, sir,” Isaac said with an eye twitch.

With that, the Colonel took his leave of us and started making his way back to his vehicle. As we watched him leave, Isaac’s grip relaxed, allowing me to open my mouth slightly and snake my tongue through the notch in my beak.

Andrews only let out her breath once the Colonel and his driver were well out of view. “Raksim, thank you for bringing him–” She stopped mid-sentence and raised an eyebrow at my tongue hanging halfway out of my mouth.

Her reaction drew Isaac's attention, and I looked him right in the eye as I ran my tongue over his knuckles.

“You fucking cretin!” He shoved my head away from him and wiped the back of his hand on his thigh.

I let out a hiss and shook my wings in a taunting gesture. “You have no right to silence me!” 

“I don’t know why, but the Colonel was giving me an out. And I wasn’t going to let you fuck it up and get me arrested!”

“I wouldn’t do that! Do you really think so little of me?”

He was silent for a conspicuously long amount of time.

“Yankovic!” Andrews shouted and earned our attention. She glared at Isaac and drew in a breath to begin her reprimand, but he raised a finger, and the words lodged in her throat.

The Lieutenant turned to Kaero. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” the yotul asked.

“Cover for me! You should have told him it was my fault!”

“Why? Like I said, it was a mutual effort. And he called me a primitive, so I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of arresting you.”

“I called you a xeno!”

“I find primitive more offensive.”

Daego sauntered up to us without a word. She snapped her fingers at her sister and pointed at her swollen eye.

“I’m fine,” Kaero said dismissively.

Daego huffed. “Yes, you're the big, tough older sister. Now just let me do my job.” 

Kaero pried the swollen eye open, revealing a sclera tainted with green blood. “I’m fine! It’s just swelling and a subconjunctival hemorrhage.”

“It’s your orbital bone I’m worried about, not your eye.” 

“It’s not broken, see?” Kaero rolled the injured organ around in its socket.

“You may need a second opinion.”

Andrews tried to cut in. “Yankovic, I need to–”

“I’m sorry, Kaero,” Isaac said over her.

The yotul’s ears flicked with annoyance, and she stood with her arms folded. “I don’t accept your apology, sir.”

He sighed. “That's understandable, but I’d like to know what caused your issue with me in the first place.”

She only spoke after a moment of tense silence. “I hate seeing people hurt. It’s why I became a medic.” Her head suddenly snapped to face her sister. “It’s not broken, but it still hurts when you poke at it!”

“Be quiet. I’m almost finished,” Daego retorted while turning Kaero’s face away from her again. She talked to the Lieutenant as she worked. “We grew up during Leirn’s occupation and saw firsthand what the Federation does to people when they don’t fall in line. We didn’t like it to say the least.”

“But we especially didn’t like it when our people stood by and watched others hurt,” the older sister said while looking right at Isaac with her uninjured eye.

Isaac had difficulty meeting her gaze. “I understand why you’re upset with me now. Once again, I’m sorry, and you don’t have to accept my apology.”

The yotul's ear flicked. “I’m sorry for drop-kicking you.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Isaac!” Andrews shouted.

He jumped on the opportunity to leave the difficult conversation. “Yes, Captain?” He asked with a friendly smile.

“Why can’t I leave you unsupervised for ten minutes?!” I’m already stressed enough managing two other platoons on top of your merry band of misfits! I just want one day where I don’t have to worry about your soldiers needing something ridiculous, or you causing problems, or you and Raksim fighting like children! Can I have peace for one day, please?! One day is all I ask for!” By the time her rant ended, she was panting and tugging at her own hair.

“Do you feel better now?” Isaac asked.

She sucked in a breath through her nose and released it from her mouth. “Yes, sorry.”

“So, what’s my punishment going to be?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Kaero’s tail began wagging. “I have an idea, ma’am. Four hundred forty push-ups–double what he made me and my sister do.”

The Captain pondered for a moment before breaking into a snarl. “I like the way you think.” She addressed Isaac with a stern voice. “Drop and start counting. Medic, make sure he does all of them. And if he stops, he has to do all of them over again.”

Isaac accepted his fate with a sigh, dropped to the ground, and started counting out loud.

He was close to fifty when a truck came rumbling down the dirt road to the range and came to a stop near us. Vil thanked her Russian chauffeur and unloaded at the same time as him. She rounded the vehicle's front and stopped in her tracks once she saw the Lieutenant doing push-ups and Kaero’s swollen eye. “What did I miss?”

“I’m sure someone will fill you in,” Andrews answered. “Go rejoin your unit.”

Vil replied with a reluctant “Yes, ma’am” before taking one last concerned look and slinking away.

“Captain,” I whispered discreetly, “we need to speak in private.” 

“Of course,” she said in an affable tone. She led me to the other side of the truck Vil returned in, where her friendly demeanor quickly disappeared. “This is about Yankovic,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“How astute of you. I understand you two had a previous relationship.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not something I’m going to discuss with you,” she said coldly.

“I don’t care about any troubles you had,” I growled. “I want to know if he’s had any outbursts like this before.”

She said nothing as she contemplated.

“You have an obligation to answer. He’s been a danger to his subordinates twice now.”

“No. He wasn’t ever violent when we were together.”

“So this is new behavior. But what caused him to change?” I mused aloud.

“Do you know what happened to his old unit?”

“No. The UN gave us documents on all the soldiers under us, but not each other.”

“He was in New York during the bombings.”

I turned both my eyes to face her.

“He’s the only one in his platoon that survived. They were… more close-knit than most units.”

“If that’s the case, he shouldn’t be leading anyone.”

“You’d rather he be in a PD facility?” She asked in an accusatory manner.

And I returned her accusation with a hiss. “I’ve seen what happens to people when they lose everything–dozens of times, after arxur raids. He should be getting help, not the constant bombardment of stress that running this disaster of a platoon causes.”

She let out a beleaguered sigh. “I know, but he’s never had a job outside the military, and I’m afraid he’ll… hurt himself if he’s discharged for being mentally unwell.”

“Do you think that’s a strong possibility?”

She nodded.

“Would seeing one of your ‘psychologists’ help him?”

“He booked Vil into all the available time slots.”

“So he’s self-sabotaging.” I drummed my talons on my beak. “If he won’t help himself, then we need to help him. And, in order to do that, I need to know more about him.”

“You need to ask him yourself.”

“We both know that he won’t yield any answers, especially to me.” 

Andrews didn’t speak for a moment. “No, I can't. He’s still my friend, and I won’t talk about him behind his back.”

“You’re letting your personal relationships cloud your judgment. If he has another blowup, it will be your fault.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“It shouldn’t be.” I turned my back to her and walked to the other side of the truck. She only followed after a few [seconds] of what I presumed to be contemplation.

Isaac was on 237 pushups now. His arms were shaking, he struggled for every breath, and sweat soaked his hair. Kaero and Daego were watching and enjoying every moment of his suffering, occasionally stepping on his calves to give him more resistance and make his punishment even worse.

Despite the disagreements I had with the Lieutenant, I couldn’t entertain myself with his agony for very long. I attempted to have a casual conversation, after having so many that day that were tense or irksome. “That was quite an interesting style you had in your first sparring match.” I said to the older of the two yotul. “Some variant of combat dancing, I presume?”

Both of their ears perked up. “Yes,” Kaero answered. “How did you know that?”

“I made a lot of yotul into exterminators, and I learned plenty about your culture when doing so.”

“You mean indoctrinated them,” Daego interrupted, severely reducing any chance this exchange had of being cordial.

“Yes, that’s part of their training,” I replied nonchalantly in an attempt to brush past what she said. “Your form isn’t one I recognize. Judging by your names, that’s because you’re Islanders.”

Kaero cocked her head. “That’s right. Not a lot of people in the Federation take the time to learn about us.”

“You may be primitives,” both of them glared at me, “but your culture is certainly interesting, mostly because everything in the Federation is so homogenized. But it isn’t my favorite thing about your species; that would be how useful you people are. Give a yotul any task, and they will rise to it just to spite those who think them inferior, whether it be exterminating, some kind of mechanical work, or becoming medical professionals such as yourselves.”

“Thanks,” Kaero said halfheartedly. “It’s good to know we’re useful.”

A sharp whistle suddenly cut through the air, calling everyone’s attention to Nedelin. “We are switching tasks now, everyone! Listen to your sergeants!”

The drill sergeants showed their acknowledgement with a nod, and the Russian sergeant in charge of the firing range responded to Nedelin’s order by holding two thumbs up in the air.

“Try not to cause any more trouble, idiot,” Daego said while drawing her sister into a hug.

Kaero returned the embrace. “I can’t make any promises.”

The younger sister’s tail wagged. “I know, but I’ll always be there to fix you up.” And with that, she rejoined the half of the platoon that was at the gun range.

The drill sergeants halted any sparring matches that were still in motion while one of them barked out orders. “Take off any training gear you might be wearing, collect your weapons, and line up for inspection! Put your bayonets back in their scabbards and keep them there for the rest of the day!”

After a quick tally, Grigoryev was determined to be one of the winners of the Lieutenant's contest. The victor’s position for the aliens, however, was a three-way tie and they weren’t brave enough to ask for his solution while he was being punished. 

At the gun range, the Russian sergeant ordered the soldiers under him to unload their weapons and personally checked to make sure they had done so. Then, he pulled them far behind the firing line with only their Kalashnikovs in hand and performed a ‘brass and ammo shakedown’ with the help of his subordinates. The lower ranks turned their pockets inside out. If that wasn’t possible, the sergeants scanned for any contraband by brushing against the pocket with the back of their hand.

One of the officers had a bright idea. When he performed his searches, he took into account the differing anatomy of the aliens. He used a stick to dislodge several spent casings that ejected into the gojids’ quills. When he searched Daego, he swept his hand over her stomach, where her pouch would be. He repeated the action several times before slowly meeting her eyes with his. “What is in your pouch, Medic?! Are you hiding something?!

“No, sir. Those are mammary glands,” Daego said nonchalantly.

The sergeant turned red-faced and jerked his hand back like her abdomen was a hot stove. “Forgive me! I didn’t know–”

His fellow Russians burst into laughter and drowned him out. Isaac tried his best to resist, but the mirthful convulsions that wracked his body eventually collapsed him into the grass.

I, however, didn’t understand what made mammalian biology so funny.

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