Why Humans Make Bad Pets!

What makes one Human III

They were doomed. Their defenses were gone, their entrenchments reduced to scrap, and more importantly, their wills broken. Rie’uo’abuie’ayu knew he should have rallied his troops. That's what good commanders of history had done. He couldn't summon the energy, though. It was hopeless, and nothing he could do would change the outcome, so why even bother? These thoughts were upon his mind even as his position was overrun.

As such, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu passed into history himself, only to be remembered as a note in a military report.

Apparently this entire confrontation was about a station. Were you aware of this, Journal, because I didn’t get the memo? It’s a shame, since I guess they had wanted it intact. Since I hadn’t been informed, and had been only given general area as to where the enemy was located, I had sent drop ship-bombs to nearly every area of the provided circle. How was I supposed to know that the center was occupied by a station that we wanted in one piece? Apparently everyone else had just naturally understood that fact, but I think they had the advantage of having been told about the stations existence in advance.

The defending forces, significantly softened, by our poor-man’s orbital strike, crumbled in mere minutes after confronting out forces and were routed in another few minutes. I thought we would just blow up the station and be on our way back to the troopships in under an hour, so it was understandable that I was disappointed and a little confused when everyone started getting out of their vehicles. I got the picture well enough when everyone started entering the station, but I was still disappointed. I had been jumping around fighting space dragons for what I estimated to be nearly 2 hours. I was sore, tired, and hungry. I wanted to go home.

Several drop ships which looked somewhat familiar had closed several entrances to the station in piles of rubble, and to my utter bemusement, a queue of soldiers formed in front of the entrances, waiting their turn to enter the station. I don’t really know much about tactics in urban warfare, but I don’t think it includes forming an orderly line in front of any structure you’re planning on entering. Our squad was near the end of the line, and it wasn’t moving quickly.

I told you I was hungry and that I wanted to go home. I was impatient, and this most recent absurdity pushed me over the edge. The thing about xenos, well, there’s a lot of things about xenos, but one of many things which seems to describe most of them is that they don’t have the diaphragm support of a human. That makes us rather loud by their standards. I like to think of it as they don’t have an appreciation for the higher end of the decibel scale like we do. I’ve been trying to reveal to them the magnificence of its pulsing grandeur, manly while in the shower as the acoustics in there are great, but it’s been rather slow in its acceptance.

My natural talent as a metal lead singer came in handy at times of impatience; however, I used it to my fullest advantage. Raising my volume as high as I could go, then forcing it a little more to “full throated roar” level, I bellowed my displeasure in one of my most barbaric and mainly displays since my a*******n.

“Everybody move!”

No one understood what I said, but my intent was clear as the line split like I was some alien Moses. The xenos closest to me actually fell over. Maybe they fainted. Pathetic. It didn’t matter. Jumping over the bodies in front of me, I charged down the center of the line and into the station. The holdup was due to a token guarding force which was using the twisting nature of the stations corridors to their advantage, although their positioning could have easily been circumnavigated if our forces had just waited until everyone was at an entrance, rather than charging in at the first opportunity and then waiting for those running around to other entrances to catch up.

At least I had seen other squads moving towards other entrances. From what I had seen, I don’t think I had any right to count on something as simple as flanking maneuvers. Their positioning wouldn’t make their weapons more possible, and I was irrationally angry. It was time to try to set a record for shortest time required to take over an enemy station.

5 Years, 9 Months Ago. Celzi Alliance Capitol World.

“Valur! They did it! They officially seceded! I told you they would. I told you we wouldn’t have to put up with the Dominion much longer!” Valur sighed. Of course Xiavo would be right. He always seemed to know the current political climate and its implications, although he guessed even he should have seen this one coming. Rumblings of secession had been heard throughout the Alliance for years now, and Xiavo had said he’d heard rumors of a military buildup nearing completion, although where he would have heard such a thing was beyond Valur’s knowledge.

“Fine, you win. How much was the bet?” He really should have seen war coming, but Xiavo had challenged, and he had been reading, and it was easier to accept the challenge rather than fight it. He suspected that was why Xiavo had waited until he was in the middle of his book to ask him.

“One hundred twenty five standard credits.” Xiavo replied, a look of smug triumph on his face. Valur scoffed, “Right. Even if I was reading I wouldn’t have agreed to such a price. Nice try. Here’s your twenty five.” He transferred the reasonable sum. A look of melodramatic offense plastered over his sorry visage, Xiavo, voice dripping in sarcasm, placed his hand on Valur’s shoulder, “You don’t trust me? Me?! Your friend through thick and thin, your greatest confident, and you think I would lie? To you?! I, who consider you my brother, would even consider such an atrocity? When have I ever done a villainous thing of such debauchery? When have I led you astray?”

The moments the words left his lips Xiavo knew he had gone too far. The look of mischievous malice he knew so well twisted Valur’s face as he used his incredible memory to recall every example which demonstrated just how many times Xiavo had led him astray. “Well, there was that time we were 5, when you convinced me that someone had poisoned my rocollo treats, and that I should put them in a plastic bag and then throw them away so you have them for yourself. When we were six you took that toy from Old Captain Boorto’vluel’niabl’crixo’s gricka since it had the same control chip as your favorite simulator. That one put both of us in the hospital as I recall. When we were thirteen you reprogrammed Professor CuL’s display board to search “Dizi Mating Videos” every ric (30 minutes) but not actually display it so that no one knew it had even happened until thost horrid high-pitched squeals started issuing from the speakers. She couldn’t figure out what was happening for an entire ricta (1.5 weeks), but when she figured it out, she failed you and me three times since she just assumed I’d helped you. When we were fourteen-”

“I get it just shut up! While you’re quick to point out all the times I’ve led you astray you failed to point out that each of those times I was just trying to get you to have a little bit more excitement in your life. You read too much.”

“Really, eating all my desserts was so I would have more fun?”

“I was five, I wasn’t so selfless back then.”

“Uh-hu.”

“Regardless of what you think, you do know what this war means, right?”

“I assume you’ll enlighten me.”

“We’re joining the army.”

“What!?” Valur shouted. Xiavo had to be wrong. He couldn’t go to war! He had just asked Professor Yyxximal if he could study under him. He wanted to be an engineer, not a soldier. Surely an exception would be made in his case.

“Think! We’re going up against the Dominion! We’re an alliance of 17 species trying to secede from a governmental body of hundreds. The only reason we’ll even have a chance of winning is because of our advanced robotics, industrial strength, and that most of the Dominion’s strength is always focused on patrolling their massive amount of space. Even with that the alliance will need every able bodied adult they can find, and both of us just crossed that line. They’ll make exceptions for the top percentiles of academia, but while you’re smart, Professor CuL screwed you over. You’re not going to make it, and I have less chance than a crippled dizi put in a cage with a gricka. Mark my words, we’re going to war. Don’t turn that shade of grey, it’ll be fine. I’ve got your back.”