Why Humans Make Bad Pets!

What makes one Human VI

Blatvec’s simple neural cybernetic implant woke him. It was only fulfilling its given purpose, but the Dominion commander still considered having it removed to have the immense pleasure of shooting it. He only had himself to blame, however, since he himself had set the time, and for good reason. The battle had only ended yesterday, and he had been so exhausted upon his return to the troopship that he had gone straight to bed, postponing the mountain of paperwork which followed even the most minor of confrontations. Technically, he should have filed the necessary reports immediately after the battle, but he hadn’t survived the 74th’s most costly and difficult conflict only to drop dead from exhaustion at his desk.

The bureaucratic bullshit of the Dominion could only wait so long, though, and ignoring it never made it disappear. He knew; he had tried before. At least he would be able to clear up some of his confusion regarding several moments during the battle. “Gurvix,” he said, grabbing the troopship’s computer’s attention, “Inform the commander from the squad recently transferred from the 109th that he’s to report to my office immediately.”

Command confirmed. Message sent. Blatvec looked over casualty reports as he waited, which did nothing to improve his mood. All told, the 74th had suffered losses of nearly 50%, making it the most costly victory since the beginning of the war. Replacement recruits for the 74th were always slow in coming, since the level of competence necessary to serve in such a prestigious division was hardly commonplace. Thankfully, a distraction soon arrived as the Vzk’tk commander entered his office and stood smartly at attention.

“Reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Please, sit. Don’t look nervous, you aren’t in trouble. If it hadn’t been for your quick and unconventional thinking, we wouldn’t be talking and the 74th would be nothing more than a name on a war memorial. First of all, I wanted to personally thank you, and I’m sure some higher ups will want to do the same. However, I also wanted to hear an account of your actions while it was still fresh in your mind. There’s going to be a lot of questions regarding your tactics and it will be easier for the both of us if I submit as detailed a report as possible. Start from your landing and go from there.”

“Before I start, sir, I need to clarify something. I wasn’t responsible for any of the . . . interesting tactics during that battle.”

Blatvec wasn’t surprised. This was a Vzk’tk after all, and history was decidedly lacking in Vzk’tk strategists of extraordinary skill, or Vzk’tk strategists, for that matter. Still, it would have been rude to say ‘I knew it!’, so he feigned surprise as he waited for the squad leader to continue his story. As the silence stretched on, Blatvec realized a continuation would require a prompting on his part.

“I’m shocked,” he lied, “If you weren’t the one who saved our asses out there, then who did?”

“Human.”

That did give Blatvec pause. “Come again?”

“Human came up with those tactics.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, Human is the soldier of unknown species in your squad. He also doesn’t have a translator, if memory serves. I’ll be honest I didn’t read all the reports I was sent regarding your squad’s members, and I don’t know anything beyond that. Is this ‘Human’ much unlike other soldiers?”

“Sir . . . he’s . . . yes. Yes he is.”

Several hours and disbelieving outbursts later

“So you just let Human do whatever he wants, then the rest of your squad follows suit?” Blatvec asked incredulously.

“It’s rather difficult to control him, but so far all his deviations from what we consider “usual” tactics have ended up helping us, and by now we’ve figured it’s best to just let him do his own thing unimpeded, since he’s going to do it whether we want him to or not.” Trxcl answered.

“Would your gesture language let me talk to him?”

“Not very well. We basically made it so that he didn’t end up attacking the wrong side or running in the wrong direction. Aside from orders and a few simple phrases, it doesn’t cover much more.”

Blatvec grunted. That would have to be rectified as soon as possible. If Human could manage such effective tactics through mere example, imagine what would be possible if he could explain the more complex ideas that were hopefully bouncing around inside his head. He’d probably have to call in most of his favors to make it happen, but if the potential rewards were anything close to what he hoped they were, this would be worth it. “I’d still like to thank him, if that’s possible.”

The Vzk’tk paused a moment longer than usual before answering. “Normally it would, but, I don’t know-” that much was obvious, “he’s been . . . different . . . since we got back. He’s usually unbearably loud right after a victory, and downright alarming once he’s slept for a large number of rics (30 minutes intervals), but today he was completely silent. No noises, no gestures, just staring at the floor in front of him. We tried to get his attention several times, and he either ignored us or honestly didn’t see us. You can go and see him for yourself if you like, but I don’t think we’d be able to get him to come here on his own, and forcibly moving him would require a hovercart. Even if you did go to him, I don’t think he’d acknowledge your presence.”

That was worrying. “Any idea why he’s acting like this?”

“None.”

+*Does anyone else in your squad have ideas as to why he’s acting like this?*+ But Blatvec kept his thoughts to himself.

“Could he be hurt? You said his body acts differently to damage than any other specie’s you’ve seen, maybe this is how his system deals with trauma.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Get that hovercart and take him to the medical quarters. Unlike the 109th we have a several scanners, so if there’s anything wrong with him it should be easy to find. That’ll be all for now, Sergeant. Dismissed.” As the Vzk’tk left with a quick “Yes, sir,” Blatvec had already started calling in the numerous favors needed to secure a high-end translator for an unregistered, unknown species. He hated dealing with Corti.

Valur hated dealing with Corti, but the only species more adept with cybernetic implantation were Hunters, and he doubted they would look kindly upon the maneuver he was currently attempting at this small Corti research facility. It was very small. Only three researchers worked there. The Directorate had intended it to be a secret. The only reason Valur knew of its existence was because he had been present in the control room when the sensor station, now under Dominion control, had intercepted one of the research facilities infrequent reports.

Despite its size, it was very well equipped. Its purpose was to attempt to find none-sapient animal species which could be controlled through cybernetic implants for use in the military. Essentially the Directorate, which was backing the Dominion in the Celzi-Dominion conflict – if it could be said that the Directorate truly backed anyone – was trying to find an effective means of countering the Vulza. That was why it was based on this out-of-the-way deathworld, and while the station had numerous defenses more than capable of fending off unintelligent monsters, Valur had slipped through without a hitch.

Which was why he was currently pointing a heavy kinetic-pulse gun at two frightened Corti researchers as he stood over the dead and smoking body of an Allebenellin. It was a shame. He assumed the recently deceased sophant would have been extremely helpful in his proposed venture, but it had been too dangerous to let it remain alive.

“You’re insane!” the one on the right spluttered.

“Maybe,” Valur replied, “But that doesn’t change what I want. So are you going to do it or do I have to pulp both of you and move on and find another pair of Corti?”

“What makes you think we’ll not kill you during your proposed – and my colleague is quite right – absurd surgical procedure?” the one on the left spoke.

“Because I’m not going to be unconscious while you’re working. Local anesthetics only.”

“This station is equipped for surgery on creatures from a deathworld. Nearly every anesthetic we have is an overpowered general. The only locals we have in stock are meant for the numerous minor injuries that are unavoidable in a pit of torment such as this planet, but would impede our efficiency if left un-dulled. Those locals aren’t meant for full surgery, let alone what you are so persistently suggesting. If we were to do it, you would still be in monumental pain.”

“I understand. Doesn’t change a thing, I’m still going to need you to do it.” Valur replied grimly.

Evidently Lefty had thought his words would dissuade him from his actions. Eyes widening, the Corti emulated the splutters of his companion. “Bu- Wha- Why?”

Valur paused a moment before answering.

“It’s hard to kill nightmares without being a nightmare yourself.”

Nonplussed by his reply, the Corti only stared at him. If anything he had just confirmed his own instability in their minds. No matter. So long as they did what he wanted, he didn’t care what they thought. “Your answer?”

Their answer was to prepare the surgical equipment and necessary parts.

Valur took a deep breath before they began the surgery which would transform most of his body into a machine. It would hurt, but vengeance for his only friend, his brother, was worth it.

The nightmares would fear him.