Date Point: 3Y 08M 3W AV
The galaxy is a very big place. And despite its enormous extension, very few places are populated, or even visited by intelligent, space-faring beings. The Ilrayen band is one of those places, albeit barely.
Above-average cosmic radiation and stellar activity, combined with an overpopulation of so called deathworlds, made that region of space one of the least favorite destinations for the species that make up the Interspecies Dominion and the Celzi Alliance.
Deep inside the Ilrayen band, on a barren moon orbiting a cold, blue gas giant, lies a repurposed big mining facility, now called Beam of Hope.
Up until several [decades] ago, the facility was used to harvest rare minerals to be utilized by the Dominion’s molecular fabricators, building all kinds of weapons and combat harnesses.
The moon (unceremoniously called Z22-Trkz-911-blue), had within its bedrock a concentration of these rare minerals at such a rate, that the Dominion commissioned the construction of Prosperous Effort mining station, as it was called in those days.
It reached peak production levels during the Robalin Wars, and then it was discovered that initial projections for untapped reserves were very optimistic at best. The moon was running dry.
The more than 30.000 beings that originally made up the staff of the station (mostly Vzk’tk, but with a considerable number of Locayl, Guvnurags, Corti and Rauwryhr, among others), being permanent residents of the facility for several [3 decade] cycles, felt a great bond between them, one that sometimes overlooked the differences between species.
The remoteness of the station meant that there was very little contact with the greater civilization, and a great number of its inhabitants were eventually born and raised on-site.
The fact that Hunter activity in the region was almost unheard of, certainly helped in nurturing a sense of home and belonging in the collective consciousness. Of safety and protection. The Hunters were almost lore, a scary story told to children to keep them on their toes.
Hence the big disappointment that was felt when they learned that the Dominion was withdrawing support for the station, and the mining activity was to be terminated.
A Rrrrtktktkp’ch senior engineer very respected within the community, called Zrkntk, rallied initially the majority of the Vzk’tk, and eventually a considerable number of the other staff behind the idea of simply not leaving.
The facility was big enough to be virtually self-sustainable with minimal commercial activity with the rest of the universe. They had hydroponics, nanofactories, a fully fledged hospital, and several ways of extracting energy from the star system and the moon itself.
The struggle for the Dominion’s approval eventually ended, and the settlement of Beam of Hope was born. The majority of the staff became settlers, except for the Corti -although some of them did stay-. It was a quiet life inside the facility, whose population was growing steadily. Zrkntk was appointed governor, and daily life resumed with even greater harmony than before.
There wasn’t much conflict or controversy, but on any given time, there was a rumor or gossip that prevailed over the rest among the inhabitants of the settlement.
Right now, the recipient of all that chittering was The Merchant.
The Merchant was a human that recently came to the settlement on a modified Vzk’tk freighter. He peacefully presented himself as a merchant and entertainer, and brought with him lots of strange artifacts he claimed to be of human origin, which he would sell to anyone who were interested.
He was bulky and -for a human- very tall, with yellow and gray fur covering most of his head and face. His voice was loud and deep, and he always carried himself with an air of authority and elegance, as if he was destined to great many things. He could be trying to sell the simplest contraption, but he would act as if the object in question was essential to the fate of everyone remotely involved in the purchase.
The settlers welcomed him with very little reserve (the political turmoil that surrounded humans was of little consequence to them, and if anything, The Merchant was to them no more than a welcome exoticity).
One day, The Merchant announced that seven of his sleep-cycles from then, he had a great attraction in store for all of them, the likes of which nobody in the entire galaxy had ever seen.
The event was to be carried out inside the cargo bay of his freighter (in reality they were two separate cargo bays merged into one, with the removal of one of the metal walls). To be granted attendance, participants would be charged a nominal fee of 50 Dominion credits.
He would not even hint about the nature of the attraction, a fact that only exacerbated the hype of the whole ordeal.
“You will experience something unique.” he repeated, enigmatically.
When the day finally came, the freighter’s cargo bay was packed at maximum capacity. Some people even had to buy their entry at resell price to be able to attend the event. Many couldn’t make it inside.
In the middle of the room there was a stage on which the human stood, and beside him was a crate-like object, 2 times taller than the human and covered with a red sheet of silk fabric. Attached to one of the sides of the sheet was a red rope, the end of which the human was holding on one of his hands.
“My dear friends, welcome to my humble ship!” said The Merchant. He cleared his throat and continued, with a deepened voice, and a powerful body language that the translators relayed the best they could.
“It is with great pleasure that i’m bringing you top level entertainment like no other, and I mean no other in the whole of the galaxy! For many thousands of cycles, what you are about to see has been the object of great despair and hardship for every sentient being. It is truly an irony that it will be here, in the farthest reach of galactic civilization and among such wonderful and peace-loving beings, that the roles will be reversed. It will be YOU, my dear audience, who will be stalking the stalker, scaring the scary, and overall bending the established conformity of our galactic society.
My dear friends. I present to you… Terror.”
With a single pompous movement, the human pulled the red rope and unveiled the cubic shape behind the sheet.
Everything stopped. For an instant that seemed like an eternity, every being inside the improvised arena fixed their gaze on the same thing, unable to react or reconcile reality with their vision:
Standing inside a proper-cage with proper-steel bars, with its 8 extremities chained to the bars with proper-steel chains, there was a Hunter Alpha, all seven eyes burning with pure hate.