The Nature of Fangs [Chapter 44]
Eated two day old raw bunger patty a couple hours ago, let’s see if I survive. Mmm tekschur :) More sobble this week! Love torturing this old man! Hope you guys enjoy. As always, credit to spacepaladin15 for creating the NoP universe. Have a nice weekend!
ART!!!!! Another!!! by u/scrappyvamp
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Memory transcription subject: Captain Sovlin, Former Federation Fleet Command
Date [standardised human time]: September 21’st 2136
My arm was gone. Well and truly gone. No flesh, no bone, no mechanical farce. Gone. It doesn’t put me at peace but…it’s better now. Better like this. The predators had given me a lawyer, apparently provided to me by Piri. I’d doubt it if it wasn’t for the face that he is a Gojid I have never met, meaning I could rule out the predators trying to trick me into complacency with a member of my own crew. It also made it blaringly obvious that these creatures are just mimicking civility, needing to request a Gojid lawyer to fight for me in court as opposed to their own kind.
He presses his glasses up his snout with a gentle claw, ears occasionally swivelling towards the guard standing by my cell door, “I’ve had to look into human laws and they’re surprisingly convoluted. Thankfully, since you’re not a citizen of an earthen nation I haven’t had to look into specific national laws and have largely been focused on international precedents. Their legal system has previously established that operating under orders isn’t a valid defence so unfortunately any recordings of orders provided by Piri won’t be very useful in your case and I’ve made a motion to have them dismissed as evidence for being too vague since she never instructed you to use ‘advanced interrogation’ techniques outright. Whether the judge agrees with me is yet to be seen.”
I simply grunt in response, vision focused on the table before me, my periphery picking up on his cream coloured coat and articulating claws. He’s set down a holopad on the table to show me the data humans have collected on me from my crew, ship, and servers. Backup recordings of my ships logs and all messages that have passed through the computer towards me or from me, eyewitness testimony from what few members of my crew who could manage to stammer out a statement to a predator, and physical evidence from the cell and commandeered human-zurulian craft.
“With the scars documented, ship logs and corroborating DNA evidence from bloodstains in the cell, it would be difficult to make a case that the evidence is circumstantial, they’ll certainly point a firm claw at you as the primary perpetrator. However, that doesn’t mean that all hope is lost, a not guilty verdict is a long shot but I can certainly try and lessen any consequences and punishment. I’ve been reading into several human cases and I believe I can get some charges dropped based on mental health. While I’m not here to accuse you of predator disease, these cases seem to invoke very specific behavioural patterns that they believe are outside of someone’s control. The absence of a diagnosis makes this a little finicky but PTSD is probably our best bet at lessening the punishments you’re currently facing, the impulsive behaviour tempted me towards ADHD but they’re significantly more stringent around its diagnosis, symptoms, and use as an argument in court compared to PTSD.”
Behavioural patterns outside of your own control? Fah. You’re either in control or you’re an animal. Sapient or stupid. There’s no in between. Of course a predator would think its behaviour is excusable. It’s such a glaring loophole towards allowing atrocities that I should be surprised they’re not trying to cover it up, they’ve been so deeply deceptive up until now. But I’m not, they were bound to slip up eventually. Still, it’s…strange- seeing the evidence against me laid bare before me. Messages and server data is one thing…the hospital scars and bloodstains splattered on the floor and walls of the cell though? That…it doesn’t sit well with me. My intestines squirm at the sight, trying to escape my insides as my actions are spelled out in a disturbingly cadent tone, desperately trying to flee from my person. I can’t help but scratch idly at my stomach to try and settle it. If I was just shown those images without context, would I even believe that a herbivore could do that? It’s not as visceral as some of the videos Arxur taunt us with but…prey shouldn’t do that. Prey can’t do that. I…did that. Protector above, how could I do that? Predator or not, prey doesn’t maul like that. These claws evolved to dig, to build, to create. Not to rip, not to tear, not to harm.
Would I…have done this to fellow prey? No. No surely not, but…prey doesn’t behave like that. Only herbivores with predator disease are capable of harm to that degree. Maybe I deserve this. It’s better if I’m separated from the herd. I couldn’t even protect it when I wasn’t tainted, but now? I’m a danger to the herd. Is this why the predators are keeping me alive for trial? Do they see what I’ve done and believe it makes us similar? Equal? My insides feel alive, thrashing like a thousand worms, desperate to escape. My scratching deepens to compensate, digging past my fur and scraping over my skin. By the protector I’m going to throw up.
My lawyer pauses from their spiel, “Sovlin? Are you-?”
Before they can finish their sentence, my legs desperately make a sprint for the toilet in my cell, hurling what tasteless roots and leaves I had been fed. It doesn’t help. My midsection still burns uncomfortably, insides wanting out, to be free of the diseased creature they’re chained to.
In my periphery, the guard looks over, nose flaring before mumbling something into its walkie talkie. It can’t be smelling the sick, it’d probably be retching at the scent. Wiping the bile from my chin doesn’t help, a sticky sensation weaving into my fur. Looking at my paw reveals why. Blue. Deep and fresh. Shit, why is there blood? I have-oh. The scratching. That must be what the guard had been enjoying. A part of me feels almost…relieved. It still thinks I’m prey, even if I’m not. The thought should sicken me, terrify me even, but now, the thought of being eaten is the only proof I have that I can be normal, that I can be civilised prey, return to the herd again. I can’t live like this. I can’t live with the knowledge of what I’ve done.
The “trial” is arranged to happen in just over two Earth months. Though I had heard that Kalsims fleet is slated to cleanse this planet much sooner than that. Hopefully wherever this cell is located doesn’t get glassed outright, maybe there’s a little hope for escape if ground forces decide this area is remote enough for a more surgical cleansing. Maybe I should hope to be atomised with these creatures. What would I even do if I could escape? I’m not the shining example of a protector. Maybe I never was, but I’m certainly not now. I’m crippled, a liability. Even with a prosthesis, it’s not the same, it’s just more proof that I’ve been attacked before and I’ll be a target to be attacked again. Predators go after the weak, they’ll see my missing arm and think I’m nothing more than an easy meal. Maybe I am. Maybe that’s all I’ll be. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to protect the herd for so long, but I couldn’t protect my Jellia, or worse yet- Hania. I couldn’t even protect my own damn arm when I had the beast collared and at gunpoint! Atomisation would be a blessing. I’ll be cured of my disease.
A voice speaks up from behind, and I’m reminded of the fact my lawyer is still there, “If you’re feeling unwell, I can come back in a couple of hours, or perhaps tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.” I croak out. I don’t think I can tolerate seeing any more trial stuff today. Or ever. I need this over with. I need my execution completed. Eaten or burned, either way would return me to my state of proper prey. I can hold out until the fleet arrives. I hope.
I don’t turn to face them as they leave, nor give any sort of goodbye. Packing away their holopad, they silently pad towards the cell door to be let out. The grating creak of cell hinges is all I need to know that he’s gone. I’m alone again, silently standing next to a toilet, claws gripping the rim like it’s the only thing that can ground me. I deserve this. I’m not prey, I’m not a protector, I’m not gojid. I am filth.
Amidst my numbed senses, my ear picks up on something. A familiar light tap of paws reaching the cell door, pausing as the guard unlocks it with a light jingle of keys. It squeaks as it swings open, desperately needing to be oiled, and letting the Zurulian medic enter. I don’t know their name. Maybe I’ve forgotten, maybe they haven’t told me. Either way, they’re back to poke at me. I don’t need it. It’s just a scratch. I’m already tainted, who cares if it gets infected.
“I’ve been told you’ve had another incident. I have some nausea medicine and some disinfectants if you’ll take them.”
If I’ll take them. Well, I won’t, “I’m fine, it’s just a scratch, and I’m not ill!” Not physically, at least. He doesn’t need to know, he’s probably tainted too if he’s putting up with so many predators.
His ears pin back, clearly not liking the fact that I’m refusing to let him help me, “could you at least drink some water and wash your paws? It’s a bit of a leap to go from refusing medicine to neglecting your hygiene.”
I idly paw at my chin and realise that the bile had began to dry and mat my fur. I probably look like a beast. Maybe he’s wrong, cleanliness is for civilised prey. But…if I do…maybe that means that I can be healed. That I can be cured of predator disease.
Slowly and consciously, I take one step. And then another. Paw pads squishing against the cold concrete floor as I turn to the sink. My paw almost hesitates at the tap, my own coagulated blue blood looking back at me from my claws, the shine fading as it starts to dry onto them. I shouldn’t touch anything, especially not water, it’s a prime vector for taint!
I’m not on a prey world. I’m on a cursed predator ridden rock. I shouldn’t care if things are tainted. I shouldn’t care about spreading my own disease. It’s not like they can get worse.
After what feels like eternity, I grab the handle and turn it, a small hiss emanating from the pipe as water flows through before spouting out at a steady pace. I gently place my single paw under the flow, feeling the water sink into my fur and soak through to my paw. I leave it there for a moment, water sticking to my fur fibres, using them to slither to the next strand and crawl down to my elbow. Paw good and soaked, I splash it against my face, letting the liquid transfer to the matted fur around my chin and soak in, beginning to loosen the tangled strands. It takes a moment of gentle paw movement, hindered by my lack of a left paw, but eventually I manage to groom most of the matting out and rinse the blood off of my claws.
By the time I’m done, the Zurulian is much closer, standing on their hind paws and offering me a water bottle. It feels…a lot more civilised to be handed a water bottle as opposed to being expected to sip from the water fountain attachment on the sink. I gently take it, only to realise that opening it might be an issue. Hmm. Desk. I can leverage it against the wall by the desk and use the stability to open the lid. Easy. Looking over I notice two small pills resting on top of a bandage. I shoot a look to the medic who waves a paw calmly, “you don’t have to take it or apply it. I think you’ll be okay, if uncomfortable, without it. But I’d rather leave knowing you have the option than wondering if I could’ve done more.”
It’s their job. I didn’t ask for it, but it’s their job. Whatever. I grumble out a halfhearted “thnks” and focus on the wall by the desk, pointedly ignoring them as I put down the water bottle, stabilising it with the nub end of my left arm, and using my functional paw to unscrew the lid. This feels much better than the water fountain, gulping down as much as I want instead of having to take sips from a tiny stream. Satisfied enough, at least, the medic pats down their vest before leaving, being let out just as fast as the guard had let them in. Finally, I get to be alone. No lawyer spewing jargon, no medic insisting I behave how they want me to. Alone. I turn the bottle over in my paw. It’s cheap plastic, crinkling under my grip easily. Can I even refill it with one paw? It was awkward enough to just open it, but it’s better than drinking from the fountain.
Looking down at the nub that was once an arm, I can’t help but inspect it. The bone underneath had been shaved down slightly before the area was stitched up, muscles being realigned to form a smooth end. If I tried to flex my tricep, the feeling would wrap around to the bottom of my bicep. It’s strange, but surprisingly not as jarring as the prosthesis. My arm is gone, and there aren’t any tricks to make me think otherwise. The fur had been shaved and a strange clear adhesive had been applied over the stitches to stop me from undoing them. It’s weird, being this smooth. Do humans feel like this all the time? How do they tolerate being so exposed?
Footsteps. Not again. I want to be alone!
Involuntarily, my paw releases the water bottle and slams onto the desk. This time, I stare directly at the entrance. Who else could possibly want to bother me? The medic should be gone by now, besides, the footsteps were much too heavy to be from a little Zurulian. My lawyer said they’d give me a break until tomorrow, then again, I can’t hear the tap of claws with each step. Human footsteps? It must be. There aren’t many other species who don’t have claws that are large enough to make such heavy steps. It’s not like they’d be on earth anyway.
Maybe they’re not here for me, maybe it’s just the warden making the rounds. I don’t want to be bothered again.
It’s not the warden. It’s a new one. It stops by the door. I hardly notice the hand wave it gives to my guard, apparently having the authority to dismiss it outright. That can’t be good.
For a brief moment I thought it would speak to me from behind the bars. I’m not so lucky. It apparently has its own key to get in, swiftly entering so sleekly you’d think it walked through the bars itself. The other predators either carried an air of disgust or uncaring neutrality, this one…this one seemed almost amused, like coming to see me was enrichment for it.
“Dismissed your lawyer early, did we? I would’ve presumed you’d want a little more time to go over the charges.” It “asks”. This thing just came here to toy with its next meal, hadn’t it?
I don’t care for this whatsoever, “What do you want?” I bark.
Its head tilts by a hair as it scrutinises me from behind a pair of sunglasses, “I’ve come to make an offer Captain.”
I scoff, “Likely story.”
A small smirk tugs at its lips, “No, really. I can assure you it’s an offer you’d like to take.”
Oh really? “And what makes you so confident?”
It maintains its stare in my direction as it replies, “I’m here to offer you an officer position on the star ship Ganymede.”
An officer position? It’s not quite my earned captains rank, but it’s nothing to sneeze at. There must be a catch though, the ship name doesn’t register as anything Gojid made, so they must want me on a human craft. Have they mistaken me as one of their own just like the Venlil and Zurulians?
My muzzle scrunches in its direction, “That’s it? Just the officer position? Nothing else, no catch, no trick, no trap?”
“By and large, yes.” Its shoulders shrug upwards before continuing, “We would like your military experience. Unfortunately your old captains rank couldn’t be reinstated for obvious reasons, but I can assure you that you’ll be respected aboard the ship and your input will be taken into account. We would also appreciate it if you could at least try to talk the federation fleet into leaving us alone. I understand if past experience doesn’t lend itself to believability- but we really don’t want this to come to blows if we can prevent it.”
Hah! Predators avoiding bloodshed? As if! Even when they were trying to act innocent, their first instinct was to join a battle! Avoid bloodshed my tailquills. If what I’ve heard is true though, it’s not like humanity stands a chance at winning this. Why even bother? My tactical input would just mean more dead federation soldiers who could’ve fought against the Arxur.
“And if I refuse?”
It’s head tilts ever so slightly, “You’re in a capital city Sovlin, and I somehow get the feeling that the antimatter bombs slated to be used don’t particularly care whether your atoms compose prey or not.”
I suppose not. But what’s the point? Even if I miraculously survive this battle, then what? I’d still be diseased and in the federation at best, under human custody at worst. “And? I get the feeling I’d prefer atomisation over whatever punishments you creatures consider justice.”
A slight huff escapes it as it looks down at me, “Regardless of how little you like it, your survival chances are much higher on a ship that can defend itself as opposed to a city marked for destruction. Besides, information on federation tactics might not be all we need.”
“Other tactical information?” The only other tactical information I could think of would be against the-
“There’s been strange activity skirting around trans-neptunian orbit. Whatever’s causing it might be of interest to you, you’d be free to destroy as many vessels that engage us since it is your specialty. Then again, you seem dead set on earning your demise, so perhaps it’s best for both of us if you join no-one in the fleet and remain here. Hm?”
Best to stay here? And die knowing I could have wriggled free and helped cleanse this planet of every predator on it? Die knowing I could’ve taken down more Arxur? You’d like that wouldn’t you!
Blind to my internal musings, it presses on, “You won’t be the only Gojid in the defence fleet either. We’ve recently gotten word that Piri has agreed to send over the Gojidi fleet to help in defence.”
Piri? She can’t have. She wouldn’t. This must be a trick. A lie to convince me to join their stupid ship. Just a lie. Probably. But… if it isn’t? If Piri really has ordered the Gojidi fleet to fight for their own demise? Wouldn’t it be best for me to be there? To convince others to see the light and defect?
The human breaks the silence, “I’ll leave you be then. You’re free to tell the guard what option you choose.”
With that, it silently slips away, guard reappearing to lock the door behind it.
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Posted Aug 1, 2025, 9:00 PM UTC