The Nature of Predators - The New Arxur (1/10) (Patreon)

Memory Transcription Subject: Raza, Arxur Collective Operative

Date [standardized human time]: August 17, 2154

The yellow gaseous shape of Wriss’ moon was the only lighting in the dark night. Every scent gave me pause, trying to detect any traces of rebel forces were lying in wait. As Chief Hunter Isif’s official courier from the front lines, with messages too great to risk interception, peril was always imminent; our adversaries had sympathizers and agents within our own ranks, after all. Uprisings were the inevitable result of rallying Betterment’s most vicious soldiers and corralling them by the Collective’s liberal, tolerant laws—by tolerant, I meant not executing me for gagging at the bodies I’d stepped over in the field. This land was Ilthiss’ province of Sefturna, and these building husks, where a dozen skirmishes had been waged, were once its capital: called Cruelty’s Maw. That nomenclature was a solid indication of why the Provincer had run afoul of our government.

Ilthiss and Usliff, former Chief Hunters that still believed in Betterment’s tenets, had been eyeing any opportunity to make a power grab for a long time. After controlling entire sectors, a province on Wriss and a seat on Isif’s military council wasn’t enough to sate their ambitions. The Collective declared amnesty for defectives, like myself, over a decade ago. However, Ilthiss’ Sefturna and Usliff’s region of Kiznith were turning a blind eye to that decree, since the Chief Hunter Isif had promised them mostly autonomous rule. Our government pressured the Provincers to comply with the laws, but they respected one thing: force. We sent a battalion to prevent the execution of a defective child, and the rest was history. The Battle of Cruelty’s Maw became a horrific bloodbath, with tank brawls unfolding in the streets and missiles pelting the city. There was still an ongoing fight over its rubble, wrestling for control.

Ilthiss proclaimed himself to be a younger, fiercer alternative to Isif, and swore that his forces would resist any incursions into his sovereign space. Usliff sent support, an act of open defiance. There was nothing for the Collective to do but put them down, with a show of force that would impart a lesson on any other would-be insurrectionists. However, the Chief Hunter feared that any word of Betterment revolt would reboot our progress toward our ultimate goal: gaining acceptance to the wider galaxy. Broadcasting our victories, while ensuring that the Sapient Coalition diplomats present on Wriss didn’t get wind of the conflict's extent, was tricky. The humans were sneaky in prying into our affairs; it had taken years to prevent a certain “General Jones” from eavesdropping at will. Another reason for couriers: unhackability. 

“Keep our movements low and slow,” I reminded my two-soldier posse, as we wandered through the city. Passing through a devastated battleground wasn’t ideal, but it offered more cover from enemy drones and soldier encampments than the open fields. “The Sefturna Sniper has tallied hundreds of kills against us, some believed to have been from over a mile away. They are a herald of death.”

One traveling companion, a skeptical male named Zefriss, scoffed. “How do we even know the Sefturna Sniper is all one Arxur?”

“The ballistics match to the same gun, so unless that firearm is being mailed from one shooter to the next, it’s all attributed to a single person. Someone that can make shots that no other living being can; there’s a reason Isif assigned us here, to retrieve intelligence on who they are.”

“What good does that do? The only way to fight them is with snipers of our own, and we have none on that level!”

“Zefriss, there’s always another way. The most sublime sniper on Wriss can’t parry a deluge of bombs on their position. Knowing where they are gives us a chance to take them down, and protect ourselves.”

“I don’t see how we’re supposed to protect ourselves now against a sniper that we won’t even see. Thermals will give us up, so crouching…”

“Walls and glass can cover us plenty from thermals. Besides, the sniper prefers to hit the open roads, supply routes. It’s just better safe than sorry. It’s not like our enemy’s best shooter is the only threat that could be lurking. Even after three nightly bombings this week, there could still be enemy soldiers afoot, ambushing us.”

My subordinate fell silent, as we all took whiffs of the air in search of enemies. The stale blood, corpses, and explosive residue made it difficult to detect anything; it burned my throat to think that the rations I’d been fed, up until the time I was two years old, were sourced from sapient livestock that bled like this. Why would a true hunter mangle their prey, for some twisted pleasure? Strength and cruelty weren’t one and the same. When I told my mother that much at the age of six, expressing disgust in Betterment’s cattle farming, she’d sent me to Isif’s command palace. It was her hope that the defective daughter she birthed would be executed; my disposition wasn’t openly accepted, at the time. Instead, the grizzled veteran had taken me in, and allowed me to stay in his halls “to train.”

I didn’t understand the purpose of learning tliskis, even as I became the Collective’s rising star in the former blood sport. It wasn’t the same as its prior rendition, since the deadly swords were replaced with cudgels; broken bones healed easier than lacerated ligaments and punctured organs. The real lesson wasn’t continuing on through pain, or physical grace. It was studying the arena’s terrain in an instant, and anticipating the opponent’s moves—twisting their weaknesses against them. There were mental games to both leading an empire and winning battles, which necessitated the collection of knowledge. There was also the defensive element of protecting your own kweshua crystal from being broken in the fray; blind aggression lost bouts. Here in Cruelty’s Maw, my small team were that crystal, and my job was to keep them safe.

I care for many of them, as other defectives that I was raised around, who’ve had my back on many missions. They understand my story, because it is theirs also. I’m merely Isif’s chosen confidant, the one in charge, since I was the most promising pupil for spycraft and statesmanship. Perhaps, when he retires, he wishes me to be Kaisal’s second.

“I’ve been working on some new jokes, while we walked!” Hysran butted in, to my immediate dismay. While I was eager to be molded into a stateswoman, she seemed to be gunning for a court jester position, as humans called it in medieval times. “Why did Betterment remove the heaviest elements from the periodic table?”

Zefriss hissed in irritation. “Because they used them all to build bombs?”

“No! To cull the masses.”

I groaned. “Hysran, your jokes make me understand why most Arxur prefer to be solitary.”

“I have more. What did the sword say to the tliskis crystal?”

“Take a break,” Zefriss and I growled at the same time. 

“You already told us that one.” I lashed my tail against the ground, hoping it’d get her to knock off the terrible jokes; intimidation wasn’t my strong suit, but Hysran made me willing to try. “If I hear that quip one more time, I’ll have you ‘take a break.’”

Hysran bared her fangs with pride. “That’s fine, that’s quite alright! I have lots of other jokes, Raza. I know I haven’t told the one about the moon and—”

I slapped my tail into her mouth, shushing my squadmates as I spotted movement by the burned-out Betterment office. While Giznel’s government had been torn apart after it was discovered that they colluded with the Federation to starve us, Ilthiss had been happy to keep the geneticists and cullers employed. Within the building’s lobby, I could see two of those eugenicist pricks—the fact they were in the profession was evident, from how reverently they rummaged through the blood vial cabinets. Obviously, Arxur needed to study which bloodlines were superior, or else how would the supreme hunters be separated from the empathetic riffraff? How would we cull the diseased to prevent their ailments from spreading? That was Zefriss’ tale: he had a disorder that gave him an extra, deformed toe, which was hardly more than a stub, on his left forepaw.

Polydactyly doesn’t even hinder him from being able to use weapons; it’s an extra digit, just there without much impact on his functionality. Prophet forbid any physical abnormalities exist. That might dilute the gene pool.

My eyes zeroed in on the Betterment officers, knowing full well that we might be able to sneak around them. However, my posse could take two lone Arxur, who were trying to scavenge the blood to maintain cruelty’s purity. They were armed, so if they spotted us creeping past, we’d still get into a firefight—just without the element of surprise. For all of the logical reasons I afforded myself, I couldn’t deny that this was personal; I wanted them dead because they would’ve killed any of us. If they were left alive, they would go crawling off to Ilthiss’ army, or return to killing infants that had any defective traits. A sharp claw was pointed at the duo, with hunger swirling in my eyes. This ambush had to be swift and silent, since they might not be the only scum on the prowl here. Zefriss and Hysran’s nostrils flared with understanding.

Hunched over, we slid over the peaty ground; the silencers on our guns would’ve been a symbol of cowardice in the old Dominion, hiding from a fight. The Betterment bastards were lucky that our discipline mandated we keep this as quiet as possible, because my “defective” emotions would’ve loved to make them scream. The old Arxur deserved the cruelty they dished out; it made my scales crawl to be part of the same species. Raw energy built up in my chest, a wrath that threatened to spill out in huffs that’d give away our presence. I contained the fury within my maw, since the volatility wasn’t something I could afford. We had a mission to complete, and this was just a short detour.

“Now.” As soon as I hissed those words, with Zefriss and Hysran holding barrels a few paces away from the back of the scientists’ heads, my companions pulled the trigger; they hated these sick monsters as much as I did. “Make sure they’re dead.” 

Hysran cackled. “They came to retrieve blood vials, but instead, they’ve become one. Well, two.”

“Was it worth risking our lives to spill their brains?” Zefriss grumbled. “Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait for their corpses to attract flies, but it raised our chances of detection. Getting our intel back is the top—”

A blood vial erupted right behind my comrades, and I recognized the sound of gunfire zipping through the shattered-out lobby window. I dropped to the ground, tackling Hysran; Zefriss followed, crawling for cover. An eight-person enemy patrol had surrounded the front of the building, but some aggressive grunt had taken the shot prematurely. My skeptical comrade might’ve had a point about our diversion, given that this appeared to have been a ruse; the enemy didn’t care about lives under their command, after all. Either the scientists got their precious blood vials, or Collective assets in the area would take the bait and show themselves. I fired several shots out toward the street, as hostile soldiers aimed for my head. I rolled on instinct, feeling the breeze of a bullet inches away from my spine; craters now marred the wall behind us. 

“Deeper into the compound!” I shouted, despite knowing full well they would’ve encircled the building. “Go!”

Hysran deployed a smoke grenade to obscure us, before I even had to ask. My claw tugged on the trigger of my gun, as Zefriss set a timed charge by a support beam, in the lobby; Betterment wouldn’t be getting this office back. If they tried to follow us deeper inside, we would bury them. That could compromise the entire building’s structural integrity too, which meant we needed to find an escape route quickly. I scurried away from the blood lockers, and heard a sudden yelp behind me. The scent of Zefriss’ fluids caught my nose before I saw where it’d hit him, and I feared the worst for the Arxur who questioned everything. Relief flooded my chest, seeing that it’d just blasted clean through his tail. That must hurt terribly, but it wasn’t a critical organ.

They’ll have fired dozens of shots within seconds; blind or not, odds are they’ll hit one of us again should we linger. If I’m injured, I must make sure one of my squadmates grabs the communique for Isif.

The damaged remains of torture chambers and eating areas, conveniently adjacent to each other, greeted our eyes as we ran deeper into the Betterment office. More gunfire sounds echoed by the back of the building, while we were beelining toward a gap in the exterior wall, but there was no turning around. Crumbling sounds echoed through the roof fragments overhead; slabs of stone crashed behind us, alongside the screams of a few Arxur soldiers who’d waltzed into our own trap. I strained my ears to try to discern where the shots were coming from. Perhaps I could pass the message off to Hysran, and create a distraction so they could escape. All I had to do was obstruct the shooting angle with my body, so they could make a mad dash.

My heart sank, realizing that the shots were coming from everywhere; some were blasting new holes in the rumbling wall. We couldn’t dawdle, with this office seeming to be on the brink of collapse. I thought of my companions, and steeled myself to signal for us to split up. Without the Collective, I would’ve died at the age of six for my feelings; a leader would accept that she’d been living on borrowed time, and gotten an extra thirteen years because of Isif’s cause. I had to be willing to lay down my life for the people I cared about—that was true strength. A glance back revealed that Zefriss’ tail was leaving a trail of blood behind him; he’d need first aid. I’d have to give them the kit too, so they could mend his wounds properly.  

There’s no fighting back against a full unit of soldiers; they were expecting to ambush an entire patrol, not three operatives. We certainly can’t be taken alive. Wait, what’s that sound? Why are there yelps from outside? Are some of those shots…being exchanged with someone else?

Finding a new burst of speed, as a faint hope crept in, I herded my companions through a tiny gap; recognizing that the enemy had their backs to us, thanks to their engagement being focused elsewhere, I was able to bury several shots in the backs of the remaining handful. Hysran was right behind me, covering any hostiles that turned in our direction. It seemed that Collective forces were mobilizing in a few nearby alleyways, wearing urban armor with the Arxur skull logo Isif selected to represent the defeat of his enemies. It showed strength and brutality, which were the same to his challengers. The unexpected allies dispatched the last of the hostiles, before advancing. We’d made it out only because of them, so I knew I owed them thanks—and an explanation, given that we weren’t wearing gear that showed our allegiance.

“Friendlies! We’re friendlies!” I shouted, holding my arms above my head. “There’s three of us: me, Hysran, and…wait, where’s Zefriss?”

“I. Hate. Cities!” Zefriss toppled out of the office, just as the exterior wall imploded inward. He panted, with his injured tail curling gingerly around his legs; blood was also dripping from a cut on his skull. “Nice of you two to come back for me. A piece of plaster knocked me right upside the head. I could’ve been buried.”

“Sorry, we, er, didn’t notice you weren’t with us. I’m glad you’re alright,” I replied. “They’ll have a medic that can look at you, but it doesn’t look too serious.”

“Doesn’t look too serious? You try getting shot and brained by debris!” he roared.

Hysran put a palm on his back, coaxing him forward. “The only thing that doesn’t look serious here is me, but then again, when do I ever? Let’s not make a bad first impression on our saviors.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about my subordinates, sir,” I offered, as the Collective commander stalked toward us. “I’m—”

“Operative Raza? We know; the Chief Hunter sent us to collect you, and ensure your safe return. He said he had an urgent matter, for your ears only.”

“Oh? Thank you for the help then; you came at a fortuitous time. Take me to Chief Hunter Isif.”

“Right away, Operative. We cannot risk vehicle travel, as the main roads are a death trap and the skies here would have us shot down in seconds, but we’ll ensure you’re brought to the extraction site before the sun sets on another day. Let’s tend to your injured man’s wounds, then get moving. If he won’t be good to walk, we should leave him behind with a contingent of my men. We must not be slowed.”

“I’m fine,” Zefriss spat. 

I snickered. “You weren’t acting like it a minute ago.”

“I just wanted an apology, Raza. And I do have a massive headache: not solely due to Hysran’s jokes, for once.”

Hysran snickered. “I’ll be happy to make your headache worse. I’ve got some new material to tell you on the road.”

Despite the banter between us all, I knew we’d been lucky to escape this warzone with our lives; I couldn’t be so reckless in the future. As the Collective medics patched up a hissing Zefriss, I stood next to the commander with a brooding expression. I wasn’t sure what Isif wanted that was so pressing that he’d accept a greater risk of exposure with a full squadron like this, especially with the gravitas of my intel on the Sefturna Sniper. Whatever it was, I could only imagine that it had something to do with the aliens. That prospect both tantalized and terrified me, with the realization that the day to be molded in a stateswoman might have arrived. 

Next

A/N - The new, highly-anticipated series! The Arxur Collective is facing a civil war after Ilthiss rebels against Isif, after Collective forces try to stop him from executing a defective child. Raza, a defective operative who was saved and raised by Siffy, is leading a team through hostile territory to bring back intel on the Sefturna Sniper—a legendary shot who’s responsible for killing hundreds of Arxur soldiers. While crossing through Cruelty’s Maw, the war torn city where it all began, the trio spot a pair of geneticists salvaging blood vials from the Betterment office and execute them. This proves to be a trap, narrowly escaped since Isif sent personnel to retrieve them, because of some urgent matter…

What do you think that Isif wants to discuss with Raza and her team? What are your thoughts on these “defective” Arxur, and how life has changed under the Collective? Will the intake be able to locate this Sefturna Sniper—and how might that affect the course of the civil war?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!