#Thunder Storm takes it in his honor after the First Battle maybe and cultural memory over time turns it from--

[bonefall]

Thunder and Clear Sky are fighting and oh no! Clear Sky seems to be winning? But what’s this?? IT’S SLASH WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!

Funny enough I WAS actually planning a moment like that with the Wind Coalition. I might shuffle it now...

It was going to be one of the first times Bumble really showcases how good her ability to translate is. Thunder Storm was trying to painfully negotiate with Shadow's Group, or gets in some scuffle with Sky's Clan again (was still working out the details) and JUST as it seemed lost, Bumble shouted "HELP! MURDER!" in Parkmew, causing a cluster of WindCo cats to burst to the rescue

But maybe instead I can shuffle it so that there's a moment towards the very, very end of the diplomacy section where Clear Sky brings his WHOLE forces to destroy the tiny Clan, and THAT is when Thunder and Slash realize they've been pitted against each other.

Hmm... maybe I should back up and cause some sections in that diplomacy arc where Tall Shadow and The Wind Runner offer what Thunder needs in their talks, in exchange for being mercenaries against Slash's cats. Thunder accepts several times, since he was in Clear Sky's group where he "saw that it's true, theyre violent and aggressive..."

Show how it can benefit him to accept what the other groups believe about Slash and his cats, but also REJECT it by showing that in the end, it oppresses BOTH Thunder and Slash to be fighting each other and Thunder was completely wrong to accept their words at face value.

Thunder Storm isn't immune to being an enforcer of the systems he created a Clan to reject.

I think it would also be really good form to change Slash's name a little, because he's SO BAD in the original text, just to differentiate what I'm doing with him.

Hmm... since none of the other groups seem to have a Leader Power yet since they're so new, maybe SLASH and his group is the one with a little bit of magic? I could have Slash be able to die a couple of times.

I could have the white marks on his legs spread up every time he takes damage. Instead of straightforward "lives," however bad it was determines how vertical the slash is. So a REALLY bad death stands straight up, while every drain from weakness or starvation just loops around the leg.

Kinda like one of those heartbeat monitors.

Maybe the other groups call him Slash because of that, but it's not his real name...

[xandurielx]

Massive Humanity Dump

Chapter 1

The humans had abandoned them. After seemingly endless cycles of fighting the battle was about to be lost and the war with it, and the humans had left them to fight for themselves.

‘So much for the legendary pack-bonding of humans’ Krillna thought to himself as he leaned around his bunker to lay down some suppressing fire on the enemy. Tungsten rods magnetically accelerated to near supersonic speed ripped into the battlefield and enemies died by the dozens…but it wasn’t enough.

Seemingly endless waves of the reptilian enemies known as the Slentine seemed to crawl and slither towards their position. Fields of scales and fangs greeted him every time he looked around his barrier, looks of desperation and hopelessness looked back every time he turned away from the battle.

“You would think the humans could have at least left us the weapons before they ran like cowards!” cried out one soldier before he was cut down by enemy fire.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

“Did anyone else hear that?” Krillna asked after firing another salvo of rounds towards the slowly advancing enemy. Looking at his ammo counter and seeing it was empty Krillna threw his weapon to the ground and grabbed the ceremonial bone dagger the warriors of his people were gifted upon maturity.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

Holding the blade to his chest and breathing the prayers of his youth, Krillna begged the seven skies of his homeland for the power of the mighty storm, pleaded for his spirit to be flown on the winds to his ancestors. Finding himself at the end of his prayers and ready to face the enemy head on, to fight tooth, bone and claw in the ways of his ancestors, Krillna couldn’t help but think he heard something on the wind again. Looking to the forest side of the battlefield, Krillna felt a rumbling through the pads of his clawed foot.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ RAWHIIIIIDE!

With the sound of thunder and snapping trees, Krillna felt all three of his hearts stop and fall. Gierophants, mighty horned beasts weighing several tons with great crests of hardend skin behind the skull to protect the neck and a row of spines extending the length of the spine, each one as tall as Krillna’s 7 foot frame. Easy to anger, nearly impossible to outrun and harder to damage and often found in herds of 50-100 the gierophant  was this world’s largest inhabitant, but Krillna thought he saw something on the back of the lead beast.

Humans. Humans were riding the gierophants…a herd of what looked to be 60 or more and each one had a human standing on the snout of the creature and even more behind the crest or between the dorsal spines.

RAIN AND WIND AND WEATHER

The humans were each lashed to a spine or each other with lengths of rope and each one was firing wildly into the horde of enemies, hanging sideways from the flanks of the great beasts, weaving between the spines, crouching behind the crest and all were firing their rifles.

HELL BENT FOR LEATHER

“Sir? Am I having a substance dream or are those humans riding Gierophants into the Slentine ranks in a stampede while singing what sounds like a human battle song?” A young warrior asked in disbelief as the battle field seemed to come to a stop. The pause didn’t last long as the slentine soldiers quickly turned their weapon on the stampede of human madness and animal rage.

WISHING MY GIRL WAS BY MY SIIIDEEE!

“You are most definitely seeing this pup, the crazy humans went and did the impossible again…WARRIORS OF CANTRAXA” Krillna called out to the stunned warriors behind him, filled with a renewed hope for victory “DRAW YOUR BLADES AND RELOAD YOUR WEAPONS, THE HUMANS HAVE GIVEN US THIS CHANCE AND BY THE FIRE PLAINS OF OUR HOME WORLD I WILL NOT STAND BY AND MAKE NOTHING OF IT!” holding his blade high above his head the Pack-Master let loose the battle cry of his ancestors with such ferocity that it seemed to ring from the very heavens, turned from his comrades and ran face first into the chaos of the newly evened battle.

ALL THE THINGS IM MISSIN’

Three hardened battle packs of Cantraxa warriors, thought to be beaten down by sheer numbers and attrition, thought to be defeated and simply too stupid to understand… howled…each and every one felt what the humans referred to as battle lust and with the feeling of fire singing in their veins each and every one reached deep into their souls and called the ancient war cries of times long past.

 GOOD VIDDLES, LOVE AND KISSIN’

The humans sang on, swinging wildly from the sides of the Gierophants or hanging on with one hand firing with the other seemingly oblivious to the rounds of enemy’s fire flying past them. With every human felled the others seemed to sing louder. Krillna was in awe of these small hairless creatures as he ran towards the battle, they rode the great beasts of this world like they were born to it, they faced a horde of enemies without fear and sang their defiance in the face of death and defeat.

 ARE WAITING AT THE END OF MY RIDE

The battle was won, the slentine ranks had been broken in half by the stampede and when the front ranks turned to fire on the new threat they were drowned in an avalanche of fur and fang, bullet and bone from the Cantraxa warriors. The humans had ran over and shot down much of the enemy, the field had been churned to a bloody mud pit of broken bodies and weapons, the Gierophants long gone by then after the humans had dismounted and returned to base.

Krillna watched in curious amazement as the humans went about their post battle chores. Groups of humans combing the battlefield for survivors, pulling bodies from the muck and determining if they could be saved or not. Slentine and Cantraxian alike were given final honors or medical aid…mere hours before these small hairless maniacs were riding juggernauts of death into battle while singing and laughing and now they were providing aid and respect to not only their comrades but the enemy as well.

Amazing graaaceee

A hauntingly sad and seemingly profound song floated like fog over the battlefield from somewhere among the humans.

How sweet the sound

Funeral pyres and graves were dug according to cultural wishes, wounded were cared for regardless of species or alignment in the war. Bodies counted and tears were shed that day and as the last sun in the sky fell below the horizon, Krillna found himself surrounded by his warriors and humans. Holding a strange liquid in his cup, the humans called it beer…or maybe stout?...Krillna looked to the leader of the humans as she stood upon a table laden with food and drink.

“Tonight we celebrate our victory!” the humans cheered and the cantraxans yipped and howled like pups.

“Tonight we mourn our glorious fallen!” With a silence that choked the very soul, every human raised their drink to the memory of those they had lost and drank deeply. Krillna and his warriors all mimicked the humans in their silence and honors.

“Tonight…we honor our worthy enemies” The commander of the humans raised her cup one last time and as one all the humans followed. Krillna could not see the reason behind the last one but was not about to comment on it while surrounded by humans.

Instruments were tuned and soon employed to their fullest extent as humans began dancing and singing, wagers were made, games played and for a few moments Krillna could almost believe that they were simply back in his homeland celebrating the lunar convergence festival. Spotting the human leader on the outskirts of the revelry Krillna silently approached the human as she slowly drank and watched those she had shed blood with. Stepping on a fallen can of some kind alerted the commander and as she whipped her head towards Krillna, he froze in place…the look in her eyes was not that of a celebration but rather that of battle mad soldiers…items within reach categorized as weapons, responses and plans ranging from peacefully violent to disturbingly chaotic flashed through her face in seconds, her grip on the cup in hand and tensing of her muscles told Krillna that she had to stop herself from launching the cup at his face.

Raising his clawed hands in a sign of peace Krillna approached the commander slowly. As he approached the tiny human, no more than five feet tall, Krillna noticed tears leaking from her eyes in a steady stream cutting tracks through the remaining dirt and grime upon her cheeks. Hands shaking the commander raised the nearly impromptu projectile to her mouth and took a steadying sip before addressing the large warrior.

“What can I do for you Pack-Master?” Asked the commander as she turned her eyes back to the celebration before her.

“You do not celebrate victory like the others? Why do you spill tears so freely War Mother?” Krillna asked, using the honorific of the greatest female warriors of his people.

“I uh…it just takes a little time for me to wind down from battle and get into the spirit of things, eventually I’ll head out and show these youngsters how to really party but for now I will just have to deal with the aftermath of adrenaline.” The commander said with a small shake to her voice.

“I have heard of this adrenaline, most species would simply die if exposed to it but you humans produce it naturally?” The Pack-Master asked.

“Yes, our bodies naturally produce it and well…it dissipates quicker for some and for others it sticks around longer. Battle madness, blood-lust, berserker rage and more are just different names of the same thing, active or excess adrenaline…our minds are changed and muscles freed of restraints while under its influence but afterwards we have to put the beast back in the cage and deal with the mess it made, physically, mentally and spiritually.” The commander responded with a look in her eyes that said she was looking deep into the past.

“How did you humans tame the Gierophants? It was previously thought impossible to even safely approach them never mind ride them or direct them” Krillna asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the maudlin thoughts the commander seemed to be sinking into.

With an almost visible brightening of her features the commander looked up at Krillna.

“We didn’t actually tame them, we were trying to find either a good escape route to get everyone out or possibly a way to ambush the slentine army, make them fight on two fronts as it were. We ran across the herd of Gierophants by accident and sort of came up with the plan on the spot, we figured if they started to stampede in our direction the base would be destroyed but if they went just little to the side they would hit our enemies. Jackson over there used to be what we call a “cowboy” and said if you can point a bull’s nose in one direction the body would follow so we made some lassos and climbing rigs and well, the rest is history.” The commander finished with a small shrug and a decidedly less shaky sip of her drink.

Krillna was almost to shocked to breath “You found a herd of the planet’s largest and most dangerous animal, decided to irritate them into charging you with the enemy directly behind you on the hopes that they would also run over said enemy and while they did that you threw ropes on them so you could climb onto them and ride them…you humans are insane” with a shake of his great furred head Krillna could only thank the seven skies that these lunatics were on their side.

With a laugh the commander tipped the last of her drink back and wrapped her hand around one of his fingers, his hand being large enough to completely encompass her own, and began to pull him towards the firelight of the bonfires, a mischievous light in her eyes and a smile that spoke of wicked delights to come on her lips.

“Oh you haven’t even begun to see the madness of humanity, come and we shall sing you songs of our people” The commander laughed as the crowd enveloped them, music wound through the air like smoke, soldiers and warriors alike danced and spun and Krillna could only laugh as he downed the rest of his drink and threw reservations to the wind with a final thought.

‘Humans are weird, but wonderful’

Chapter 2

Shi’tar could only look upon what was once his home with despair. The invaders had come and ravaged his world in barely a handful of cycles…entire cities reduced to rubble and ash in their wake. Huddling in the ruin of their home Shi’tar and his brood merely sat and hummed the song of mourning for their species waiting for the end to come. Food was scarce after the ravagers that destroyed their home had taken or burned what little they had. The Galactic Council had abandoned them in favor of turning their resources towards slowing the tide of destruction that was the Kellnakt, a nomad race of pillagers and destroyers. This was just one in a long line of worlds the Kellnakt had come to and destroyed, a small planet of little note in the big picture of the universe, why should the GC bother to help when they could put their effort towards protecting the next planet or system?

On the morning of the third cycle after the destruction of their world is when it happened. They came from the skies in thunder and fire, like angry gods come to strike down the survivors and put them out of their misery. Great ships hundreds of units wide and thousands long flew through the atmosphere in graceful arches until they came to rest upon the just outside what use to be Shi’tar’s home town. Shi’tar ran to the edge of the city to see what new curse had just landed on their world, mandibles clicking in fear. Hiding behind a tree Shi’tar watched in amazement as three ships carefully landed and began to open, bright light spilling out into the pre-dawn gloom until from the belly of one ship a figure emerged.

Taller than Shi’tar by half…shoulders clad in what looked like some kind of chitin the seemed to extend in plates down arms that rippled with muscle even under what looked like scaled armor between the chitinous  plates, a long torso that flowed down into a set of legs that appeared strong enough to crush Shi’tar with a single blow. Shi’tar took all this in quickly and thought maybe they had a chance at hope…they might be able to bargain slavery for safety, surely such a powerful creature could use a few servants to clean up or work in factories of some kind, until Shi’tar saw the eyes. Forward facing eyes that seemed to track all movement at once…the eyes of a predator.

Shi’tar felt both of his stomachs turn to ice as he looked closer, the creature turned its head side to side scanning the surroundings…with un-erring accuracy it snapped to one side when an animal cried out off to the side of the field, this was a predator, born to hunt and kill and it had come to this world scour any survivors from its surface Shi’tar just knew it. Lifting one appendage from its side Shi’tar saw that it held a…funnel? Cone? Of some kind to its facial orifice and began to speak in passably good Cochcorikan…the language of Shi’tar’s species.

“Hello? Are you a representative of the…shit how do you say that….um…. Cokc….Cokar…Cochcorikan? race and homeworld?” The figure asked as its voice was amplified by the cone out to Shi’tar.

Shi’tar turned away from the predator and put his back to the tree, all three hearts thundering like the beating steps of a Lanqor . What could he do? He was just one Cochcorikan how was he supposed to defend his brood from a creature like this? And what did it mean asking for a representative? Was it looking to kill off the leaders first?

“Um, hello…We saw you behind that tree when we landed, could you either come out here or get someone who could speak with us please?” Shi’tar wasn’t sure if it was bluffing or not but he wasn’t about to reveal himself…even if it did know he was there, every minute it spent on him gave his brood more time to either run or simply live and he was going to give them every minute he could.

“Excuse me” the voice of the alien predator was right next to him.

“AHHHAA!” Shi’tar would later tell this part of the story as releasing a mighty war cry and not the sound of a scared hatch-ling. Laying there on his back Shi’tar looked up at the creature before him that had snuck up with the footsteps of a soundless breeze.

“AH Yes..um hello…do you speak for your world?” Why was it just standing there? It had him dead to rights and was in a position of power and dominance…wait… it was leaning forward and extending its appendage tipped in keratinous talons! This was it, Shi’tar closed his six eyes and waited for the Great Brood Mother to usher him to the Final Nest…um…why was it pulling him to his feet?

“Sorry I spooked you there, we are from the Human Relief Society and are here to offer aid if you would accept it.” Shi’tar couldn’t believe it, he was alive and standing before a creature born to hunt and survive off the death of others…it stood there towering in front of him baring its teeth at him in a show of dominance after displaying the obvious physical power it had by lifting him from the ground…was it hoping that he would run? Maybe it was looking for a chase before it killed him…and what was it talking about? Relief Society?

“We are a small group of humans that are hoping to provide aid to worlds hat have been effected by disasters like the Kellnakt invaders but in the hopes of maintaining peace and cultural boundaries we won’t help unless permission is given…do you want out help?” The massive creature looked upon Shi’tar with a glint of what could only be seen as hope in its large eyes…eyes the color of an ocean under storm and containing the fires of creation.

“Y-y-yes?” Shi’tar would later edit out the stutter of disbelief in later tellings but at the moment he felt as though the Great Brood Mother was smiling upon him…this couldn’t be possible…Humans, the great war species from a Death World that practically re-invented the word of ‘un-inhabitable’, the race that could live in almost any environment and who were known as an unstoppable tide of destruction and madness were here…to help.

“PLEASE! please help us worthless life forms oh Great Ones!, we have nothing of worth to give to ones so great but please help us, we are but weak farmers and merchants, we have no great warriors or love of battle but we will do as you command…please, I beg of you…help my brood, help my race.” Shi’tar would never feel shame at this display of weakness before such a creature as a Human for who was he to hold his head high before an engine of destruction such as the galaxy had not seen. It was not until the human dropped to one leg joint and placed a…hand?...yes hand that is what they called the great crushing ends to their appendages…upon Shi’tar’s head and spoke in a voice that conveyed all the love and shelter of the Final Nest that Shi’tar began believing that maybe his hive would live to see another solar rotation.

“What is your name, what would you have me call you?”

“This most unworthy one is known as Shi’tar, but I will take any designation you would honor me with oh Great One.”

“Raise your head Shi’tar of the Cochcorikan Race…we are here to help, not to subjugate, we seek to build not destroy…you say you are worthless but I see a species that has built a home and culture that can be spread across the stars…you claim you are weak but I see survivors that lived through an invasion of a more advanced species with little more than farm tools to defend themselves with…you say you have no great warriors or love of battle, I see a race that has ascended beyond petty conflicts and wars and that has built a world of peace and prosperity…if you would let us help you we would only ask that you perhaps teach us and help us achieve such a state…now do you want us to help you, so that you can help us?” Shi’tar felt his eyes excreting at the words of this mighty Juggernaut of War, to think that such a powerful race could possess such compassion was unbelievable, he could not say Yes enough to the offer of aid and assistance.

With a baring of teeth the giant of a human lifted Shi’tar to his feet once more and turned to his ship, placing a hand to his chest and pressing a previously unseen button the human seemingly spoke to the air and Shi’tar watched as the other two ships opened and rank upon rank of human clad in battle armor descended from ramps. Shi’tar had not heard any rumors of a hive mind between humans but it could only be so as they walked in perfect sync, their mighty steps sounding as one great beast walking upon the world. Forming into one large mass of bodies Shi’tar was amazed at what he saw…hundreds of humans in perfect rank stood before him and the other human, faces blank of any emotion, eyes burning a desire so deep it frightened Shi’tar to think of the lengths these humans would go to t achieve what they sought.

“HUMANS OF EARTH!” The human next to Shi’tar bellowed to the ranks before him “SOLDIERS OF SOL AND CHILDREN OF GAIA! THE KELLNAKT HAVE RAVAGED ANOTHER WORLD AND BROUGHT LOW ITS PEOPLE, WE ARE HERE TO RAISE THEM FROM THE ASHES OF DESTRUCTION…WILL WE FAIL!?”

The response from the human horde before him was enough to echo from the very skies themselves, a resounding “NO” nearly blew Shi’tar from his feet. With a few orders snapped out in rapid fire the apparent leader of these humans sent groups to secure perimeters, survey landscapes, set up medical positions for wounded and sick and to scout for secondary and tertiary landing sites. The last orders confused Shi’tar, why would they need more landing sites? Surely they were all there was to help his people from destruction��right?

By mid-day no less than two dozen more ships came thundering from the skies to land across the planet with more ever arriving. Entire capital ships of materials landed only to be swarmed by humans and unloaded so that they might take off again and make space for another ship to land with yet more building and relief materials. Shi’tar stood within a hurricane of humanity as humans raced about with the light of purpose in their eyes, tents for the sick and injured were erected, building that somehow survived the invasion were either destroyed and rebuilt stronger or repaired and re-enforced. Survivors were ushered into small areas out of the way of the human’s rebuilding efforts and given food, hatchlings were kept busy and cared for, humans took time to play with the young ones so that they wouldn’t get in the way of the adults.

The humans moved with a grace and purpose born only of long repetition as they lifted rubble from collapsed buildings and moved materials from one place to another. The dead were gathered and  named, death rites were administered and rituals were observed to honor the fallen. The humans worked tirelessly throughout the day and into the night, lights were brought out to illuminate the work sites so that the humans could continue long into the dark. Hatchlings fell asleep to the sound of life being rebuilt around them, adults were consulted on the best places to build certain structures, in fewer cycles than it took the Kellnakt to destroy their cities Shi’tar was receiving reports from around the planet that entire communities were being raised once again.

Shi’tar looked out from the top of the tallest structure that had been built and marveled at his new home…every building had been built to the specifications of his culture, the path of destruction that had once marked his home world as another conquest of the Kellnakt was swept away in the storm that was the Human Relief Society …a storm of furious rebuilding and repair.

The time for the humans to leave came sooner than any would wish and many attempts at keeping the humans had been made, from shameless bribery to begging but none of the attempts were successful. It was with many ocular excretions that the humans boarded their ship and once again ascended to the stars until only one ship was left, the first ship to land in fact.

Shi’tar stood before the human that he had been cowering before and begging aid from and stood tall with a new found confidence. He stood as a survivor and friend to humanity as opposed to kneeling as a servant to a superior race, never had he stood so tall and proud.  Extending his clawed ‘hand’ Shi’tar shook the powerful hand of the human that had brought hope back to his world, smiling as best he could while his eyes leaked secretions of joy at the knowledge that his brood would not only live for another cycle, but thrive to see hatchlings of their own.

“Just remember, if you need help again don’t hesitate to call us, we may be labeled as deathworlders but that doesn’t mean we can’t promote life as well.” The human said as he shook Shi’tar’s clawed hand.

“Please, take these younglings with you, they may not be much for battle or labor but they have a mind for business and trade that may help you in the future, you helped us rise from the ashes of defeat and destruction, let us help you aid other in your quest to help others.” Shi’tar gestured to a dozen younglings that stood off to the side with bags packed and ready for travel.

“It would be our honor, admittedly we aren’t the best at the merchant side of things, all right you lot get aboard and prepare for  long ride our next stop is a few lightyears away.” The human said with a smile upon its face, Shi’tar still had to suppress a small shiver at the teeth baring sign of happiness that humans insisted upon.

“What will you do if you ever catch up to the Kellnakt? They are a warrior species the likes of which has plagued the galaxy for longer than most can remember, or will you stay ever behind them to undo what they destroy?” Shi’tar asked as the younglings walked up the ramp into the human ship and disappeared.

“WHEN, we catch up to the Kellnakt we will offer them what we have always offered…aid and help to rebuild a home, medical help for the sick and wounded and protection from those that would destroy them…should they refuse we will back away, but should they refuse and offer violence towards us or our friends…we will show them what it means to fight those born upon a death world and we will meet them with fire and fury to rival the gods and we will not stop until any threat to those under our protection is dealt with, and then we will offer aid once more.” The human spoke with a conviction and confidence that both terrified and inspired Shi’tar.

“Should you ever need food or supplies or simply somewhere to rest do not hesitate to return to us and we will provide aid in return though I can’t promise all the best the universe can offer as are but simple farmers and merchants.” This last part was said with a new found confidence, and a bit of newly learned sarcasm as he thought about the various crates of training manuals and weapons the humans had… “forgotten to load”…supplying weapons in certain situations could be considered illegal after all, but it was not un-heard of for items to be misplaced or lost all together in the hectic flurry of movement that was rebuilding cities and reloading star ships after all was said and done.

It was with a certain amount of sadness that Shi’tar and his people watched the humans board their ships and leave the atmosphere, with significantly less fanfare than they had arrived with thankfully. Shi’tar didn’t know if they would ever meet the humans again but he did know that if they did ever cross paths in the future, his people would not be seen as weak farmers and merchants easily broken and defeated again.

Chapter 3

First Medical officer of the Galactic Union Revka Jihar looked on in awe as the human zipped from one console to other. Sliding from one side of the room to the other only to go back she displayed a true mastery of her job. Coordinating rank upon rank of human shock trooper forces into position, confirming approval of Human Medium Force Allowed, checking and double checking the health status of hundreds of humans, receiving reports from multiple divisions of engineers and mechanics about the status of one drop group or another…it was overwhelming to the Kalarian to watch.

“Shock Troopers stand by to stand by for final approval on drop, med squads confirm ready stations for injured, eng corps get those fucking launch tubes in the green before I come down there and fire you out one by one until I am satisfied my boys won’t hit atmo looking like strawberry jam, Hell Jumpers get to your pods and strap in we have yellow light on drop and I am not waiting for any Late Lucys should we get green.” The rapid fire communication of the humans had never ceased to amaze Revka, how they could say so much with so few words using only inflection, not to mention context, tone, body language and a myriad of other factors that they themselves seemed un-aware of. Keys rattled like gunfire beneath First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove’s nimble fingers, screens came to life only to be replaced by others as they were dismissed. Within barely a handful of human minutes Frist Rank Hargrove sat back limply in her chair with her arms hanging down the sides as she breathed deeply in seeming exhaustion, Revka knew better though, he had seen this human go cycles without rest or nutrition.

An alert from the single remaining screen in front of the human grabbed her attention and her head snapped up from its slumped over position, the gleam of anticipation and sudden movement reminding Revka of the humans predatory lineage. Jumping to her feet with enough force to send her division command chair sliding back on tracks laid into the floor to the edge of the large room they occupied Amelia comm’d the captain of the ship.

“Captain Shelsa, Shock Trooper Command…I have green on all drop requirements, personnel and approval…Awaiting Final Command: Angel Fall.” Amelia Stood disturbingly still and focused as she awaited the order from her captain to release the humans upon the world beneath them. Revka stood in the back of the room next to the abandoned chair, furiously making notes upon his digital clipboard without even looking down at it. Being the first species other than human to witness the deployment of Shock Troopers into an active battle field Revka was not about to miss a single document-able moment of what he was witnessing. The tension in the air radiating from the human in the middle of the large room was almost enough to choke Revka, the human had not moved in the slightest since her last communication, her muscles seemed to bunch beneath her skin tight command suit as the micro-cycles slid by, until…

“Shock Command, Captain Shelsa…you are green for trooper drop, repeat you are green for drop…Amelia!” First Rank Hargrove’s head snapped up at the sound of desperation and pain in the captains voice.

“Yes Captain? I am here.”

“…Amelia, these, monsters attacked earth…they struck down schools and hospitals…these invaders took my baby girl from me without warning or reason given…invoke the Battle Gods….” First Rank Amelia went dead silent and painfully rigid from this last command. It was well known humans had music for all occasions and that they would perform different tasks with more or less efficiency depending on if music was being played to them and depending on the task or musical selection. Revka felt his feathers bleach of all color at the last command…it was not a command given with hopes of leaving survivors, the Battle God ‘Queen’ was something of a legend among different species due to the effect said music had on humans…but these last words were spoken with such cold venom Revka had to grip the deck plates with his talons to keep himself from bolting in fear. Revka watched as the Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator calmly answered in the affirmative, slipped an Augmented Reality Visor over her eyes and seemed to deflate as tension left her body.

Walking to the middle of the room First Rank Amelia began to glow softly as synaptic relays lit up across her suit, lines of light racing from her toes to her visor and everywhere in between, muscles slid with liquid grace beneath her suit as she stalked forward.

It started gently…hands lifting to flow through screens only she could now see through her visor…hands and arms moving like the conductor of a symphony Revka had seen on earth and with each movement a new small screen came to life around Coordinator Amelia, each screen containing a new face…the faces of her boys…the faces of humanities most feared ground based battle troops…the Orbital Shock Troopers known only as the Hell Jumpers.

No words were spoken at first, Amelia simply stood there under the gaze of over five hundred trained, battle hardened, soldiers. Soldiers that were about to be dropped from orbit onto a planet light years away from home into a raging warzone with nothing but a small pod made to break away on impact to protect them from the heat and violence of atmospheric entry. None looked scared, no tears were shed in fear or pain, this was simply another good day to die for these individuals Revka realized.

“Kikiki! Kakaka!” The suddenness of Coordinator Amelia’s cry and movement nearly had Revka molting a full tails worth of feathers. Amelia slammed one foot down to her side so that she was bent at the knees.

“Kauana kei waniwania taku tara” Hands slapped into her thighs and stomach muscles in time to her chant.

“kei tarawahia, kei te rua i te kerokero!” Feet stomped and hands slapped as she continued her chant, voice raising to echo throughout the room.

“He pounga rahui te uira” Amelia’s voice rang with a clarion call to battle, it vibrated with the rage of an entire race that had been wronged as she raised a fist and slapped her arms.

“ka rarapa ketekete kau ana” Revka felt sorry for himself as he watched the display before him as he had not thought to make arrangements for his newly born clutch of whelps should he perish on this mission.

“To peru kairiri mau au e koro e!” Looking at the many images of the Shock Troopers arrayed before and around the still stamping and chanting Coordinator Revka could see that each one was focused upon her with a burning intensity.

” Hi! Ha! - Ka wehi au ka matakana,”  Eyes narrowed, teeth were bared in rictus smiles, pulses throbbed in necks, nostrils flared in anticipation as the chanting grew somehow louder and more fervent.

“ko wai te tangata kia rere ure tirohanga” First Rank Amelia stamped and pounded her feet into the ground as if to defy fate to move her, as if she was seeing the future and challenging it to be anything other than what she demanded it to be.

“ngā rua rerarera” Hands slapped and struck with force that would shatter the bones of Revka’s species like she was trying to beat reality into submission and bend it to her will.

“ngā rua kuri kakanui i raro! Aha ha!” With one final strike First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove let loose a sound that would haunt Revka’s rest cycles for the rest of his life. The sound that echoed throughout the room seemed to contain all the suffering that had been felt at the hands of the enemy, all the pain of loss and the rage of those who could not do anything to seek retribution for those wronged. Screens lit up as each trooper dropped from the belly of the ship into the planet’s gravity well, each and every face pulled into a mask of rage and determination beneath face shields snapping into position. Revka thought that perhaps the spectacle was over now that the humans had been sent planetside…until Coordinator Amelia’s arm snapped out and with a few deft movements brought up a simple non-standard screen.

The media screen floated barely a hair’s breadth from the end of Amelia’s fingertips as she scrolled down a list of songs. With little more than a thought a song was selected and broadcasted to every shock trooper, soldier and crewman.

Drums beat and strings were plucked with a sense of anger lurking behind the sounds, after only a few seconds of this First Rank Amelia began to sing in a tone of voice unlike anything Revka had heard from the normally bubbly and flirty Coordinator, like gravel grinding in honey and rising into an angry cry tinged with desperation.

I feel the pressure is building in me

My stomach's sick, it's getting harder to breathe

I hear the screaming, I feel the disease

It's burning me up and there is nothing to breathe

Will you crawl with me

Will you stand with me

Would you follow me

Would you believe with me

Tell me you'll breathe with me,

tell me you'll die with me

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Yell it out, do or die

Let me hear your war cry!

The battle that followed after the start of this terrifying song was less a battle and more a chaotic slaughter of the enemy. Humans that had been forged of star matter and tempered over eons of living on a death world and driven by madness channeled from a world in pain through musical Battle Gods dark and ancient tore across the land. They fell from the skies in gouts of flame like avenging angels come to strike down the very gates of Hell, no enemy was spared, no mercy given nor asked.

The battle had been long and hard, the final count of the dead had come out to one hundred and seven troopers lost out of over five hundred…a small number but one that was felt like a hammer blow among those that knew them. Revka had stayed and watched the entire time as Coordinator Amelia somehow split her attention between directing troop movements and battle plans all while continuing to dance and sing to various songs of battle and victory. When the final call of victory came over the open channels the music was allowed to stop and First Rank Amelia fell still, her arms hung limp at her sides…screens showing haggard and haunted faces of her soldiers, her troopers, her boys signing off one by one as they went to seek medical aid or further orders, synaptic relays dimming from a fiery blaze to a pale glow until they too fell silent and dark.

Revka walked slowly from his position in the back of the room towards the silent and still figure of the human known among the crew as Battle Siren…the one human who was expected to endure the responsibility of coordinating hundreds of war machines, who was given authority to make decisions in battle and who had to carry the weight of those decisions. As he got closer Revka noticed a new taste on the air, sharp and salty…not sweat, he didn’t have sweat glands and the skin suit Amelia was wearing prevented her body from needing to sweat…tears? Yes Revka could taste the salt of tears on the air.

Slowly coming around to face the Battle Siren Revka was somewhat surprised to find a river of tears slowly falling from under the AR visor. With a deep breath as if she was emerging from deep waters Amelia lifted the visor from her tear soaked eyes and seemed to stare through the bulkheads and deep into the void, then in a soft whisper she said a single sentence that would be taken to the Galactic Council and repeated again and again among those who thought to strike out against the humans.

“They sowed the wind with their strike against our young and injured…so too did they reap the hurricane of our vengeance.”

With that single sentence spoken a new sound began to emanate from the Coordinator, a long drawn out note not unlike the tune of a bell. Revka backed away and made his way out of the room, the Battle Siren had begun to sing a new song, but not one of war and conquest, rather a song of pain and history filled with conflict but also about seasons changing and hope prevailing. The humans may have had a great pantheon of voices to channel inspiration from when going into battle, but so to did it seem that they had ones for peace and healing.

Chapter 4

There are many stories of humans defying the odds, but there are very few that strike true fear of the hairless apes into those that hear them. Many stories and legends of old have been whispered among the stars of great humans that stood against the tide of change, who battled with forces beyond their power to defy but these are all stories long into the tale of Humanities dance among the stars, stories that inspire caution and tales that speak of ill fates that befall those who cross humans. There are many stories of small deeds, seemingly insignificant acts of kindness and bravery that provide a foundation for the great legends to stand proud upon, such as a tale not widely spoke of… a young teacher, a purveyor of historical knowledge to young minds, remembered best by a statue. A figure wrought of white stone shot through with black streaks and golden flecks that to this day stands tall and strong, holding a single tome clutched to its’ chest behind a shield while holding a blade aloft as if to ward away intruders, upon the blade a single phrase repeated in every language spoken by humanity: No harm shall befall these children.

It was near the beginning of mankind’s entrance to the galactic opera. Barely a few decades after First Contact and Acceptance a raiding party of Kazak struck an outlying colony. This was a peaceful world, farms and agriculture snuggled closely to cutting edge scientific institutions dedicated to the betterment of the very industries that they were surrounded by. It was very much a world built in a feedback loop of growing crops, improve methods, grow crops with improved methods, improve upon growing methods, grow crops with improved methods and so forth, constantly doing all they could to not only produce as much as they could from the land they were given but to in turn give back what they could to the land that sustained them.

The Kazak came like a plague of biblical locusts, great swarms that blocked out the suns of the world. Ships landed like bloated birds of prey only to vomit forth battalions of Kazak warriors, raiders of worlds that would strip the land clean of all it could immediately provide and leave it a barren scorched wasteland.

Mrs. Love was halfway through a lesson on the Spartans of Old Earth with her class when the sirens began to wail. Doing her best to remain calm Mrs. Love ushered her class of younglings into a special room that could double as a shelter if the need arose. Promising her class that nothing was wrong and that all would be well in a few minutes Mrs. Love pressed her palm to the scanner beside the door and sealed the room. Turning her back to the now closed door Mrs. Love surveyed her surroundings, ancient pieces of armor and weaponry imported from Earth specifically for the exhibit, benches to sit and think upon…not much else around her. Listening to the sound that the children were to young to pay attention to and discern from the background noise Mrs. Love listened to the sound of approaching steps outside the hall.

Mrs. Love was a kindergarten teacher, untrained, un-blooded, un-fit to battle hordes of enemies intent upon the destruction of whatever they saw fit to destroy…but that wasn’t about to stop her. She was a Human damnit, a Child of Gaia, Daughter of Sol and she would be damned before she would walk quietly into that good night only to leave her class behind to face the monsters under the bed.

Running over to a display the young history teacher quickly said a prayer for strength and forgiveness from the previous owner of the armor she was looking at. Grabbing a nearby ashtray she smashed the protective glass case around the set of bronze armor and with mounting panic quickly donned the heavy metal plates and helm.

It was with no small amount of trepidation and humor that the raiding party of Kazak walked into the Hall of Ancient Earth Warriors only to see a human female in poorly fitting pieces of metal. Standing tall before a section of wall that scanners showed a large number of bodies behind the foolish female stood holding a spear in one hand, shield in the other with a sword attached to her hip. Like a child pretending to be their parents the young female pushed her oversized helmet back and spoke with a weak voice to the raiding party.

“I-I-I am Mrs. Love, Teacher of Histories to the kindergarten class of Sancti Nicholi Grade school….please turn back and approach no further, no harm shall befall these children.” Historical records would rarely, if ever convey the hitch and stutter in the teacher’s voice as she stared at the oil slick colored carapaces of the Kazak before her. Many accounts of the events would paint the 5’ 0” 130Lbs. teacher of history as a 7’ 6” 300lbs master of combat after her declaration of protection. Security footage of the museum has been confiscated but multiple witnesses attest to Mrs. Love’s combat prowess.

3rd Battalion fourth infantry unit, Call-sign Vladimir, were the first to stumble upon the museum after the attack. Powerful men and women clad in armor and wielding state of the art weapons walked into the Hall of Ancient Earth Warriors expecting an ambush or attack of some kind, only to be faced with absolute carnage. Bodies of Kazak Warriors lay scattered about the hall, dismembered and eviscerated and ravaged, an entire battalion lay dead like a macabre carpet stretching from one wall to the next. Looking up from the piles of dead bodies the group of humans was surprised to find a single entity showing signs of life.

Sgt. Cortez approached the kneeling figure slowly and with his weapon held low to the side. It was a small figure, clad in ill-fitting bronze breastplate over crimson stained white dress shirt with equally ill-fit greaves over simple black slacks. Kneeling with round shield in one hand and sword in the other Cortez nearly missed the beginner’s history book clutched in a white knuckle grip behind the shield before the bronze helm rose in a single sharp movement. With a scream that would haunt Sgt. Cortez’s dreams for years to come the figure leapt into action with a stab that nearly took the Sgt.’s liver.

Like a marionette whose strings were suddenly gripped by a drunken puppeteer Mrs. Love lunged with her appropriated short sword, after being deflected by a reflexive turn Mrs. Love swung her shield bearing arm as hard as she could with a scream of defiance. After her attempt at a shield bash was turned away Mrs. Love pivoted in a downward twirl she had no right to perform as gracefully as she did to strike at the armored figure’s legs.

Deflecting the strike at his legs with the bayonet on the end of his rifle Sgt. Cortez quickly retreated a couple of steps to better assess the armored warrior before him. Cortez was slightly surprised to find the relatively small form before him was swaying on its’ feet, the shield arm shook and the sword tip dipped periodically as if it was too heavy to hold upright properly. Upon closer inspection the figure showed all the signs of being beyond simply tired and well into being exhausted.

In a single liquid move the armored figure moved and was within Sgt. Cortez’s guard before he could understand what was happening, with a scream and screech of parting metal the armored figure scored a deep gash through the breastplate of the Sargent’s armor from hip to heart. Grabbing the armored assailants hand and sword before it had a chance to recover and make another attempt the Sgt. tried something that he had no reason to believe would work.

“Stand Down soldier” The figure stopped like it had been struck “The battle is over, you are victorious Spartan, the pass is held and defended…stand down.” Like a puppet with its strings cut the figure fell limp in a clatter of armor, held up only by the arm held in Sgt. Cortez’s grip until it was slowly lowered to the ground, adrenaline and fear no longer lending strength to limbs unaccustomed to the burden of sword and shield. Hearing a slight sound from the helmeted figure Sgt. Cortez leaned down to better hear, and in a single, final exhalation, Mrs. Love the Spartan of Sancti Nicholi Grade School, Defender of the Innocent spoke her final words…”No harm shall befall these children.”

At the entrance to every school after that day a statue was erected, a statue of a young woman standing tall and proud clad in ill-fitting armor, holding a book behind a shield with a sword held aloft as if in challenge to those who would dare bring violence to those under her watch.