Why Humans Make Bad Pets!

What makes one Human

Rie’uo’abuie’ayu had a headache, but that seemed a trivial annoyance compared to the feeling of profound shame he felt after the events of today. Try as he might, he couldn't think of what he might have done differently without having first known the future.

Who in their right minds would have predicted that the Dominion forces would abandon centuries of military dogma and use his own vehicles against him? Who could have foreseen that the Vulza, which had carried the Alliance so close to victory, would ignore the training they had received since birth and turn sides in a matter of hocs (minutes)? At least the battle seemed to be going according to plan above the planet. He assumed, since he and what remained of his forces were not being vaporized by an orbital strike.

It had been difficult, feeding incorrect intelligence to the Dominion, especially since it was such a novel idea, but Rie’uo’abuie’ayu supposed that it would soon become a standard tactic in warfare. How could it not, especially when it had proven so effective? Instead of finding a force consisting of a few outdated battleships, cruisers, and an aging carrier, the Dominion fleet, prepared for an easy fight, had arrived to find an opponent more than capable of matching them blow-for-blow.

Well, not at first. The Celzi Admiral, Cciic, had waited until the Dominion force had committed their ground forces. Only after the enemy fleet had dedicated themselves to the conflict did he order the reinforcement fleet to drop the cloaking fields that had been painstakingly installed on each ship, specifically for this battle. If everything had gone according to plan, this battle would have been the end of the 74th and the only effective Dominion unit. It still might be, if Admiral Cciic would finish off the fleet above and send an orbital strike of his own against the Dominion position.

Rie’uo’abuie’ayu’s musings were rudely interrupted as a commotion reached his ears from somewhere behind him. Turning he saw the turrets surrounding the sensor station frantically firing into the air, soon followed by a concussion wave as what seemed to be a small meteorite stuck the ground with a force impossible on a planet with such weak gravity. Even though he was nearly 200 borts (100 meters) from the point of impact, his vision was obscured as dust and dirt from kicked up from the landing fell about him. Coughing, he stumbled towards the panicked yells coming from the landing zone, dreading what new surprise this day had in store for him.

Recognizing Fleezle through in the debris cloud, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu caught the dazed comm officer’s attention by slapping him a couple times. Once he had regained cognizance, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu slapped him a few more times for good measure, “Lieutenant Colonel, report!”

Pointing in the direction of the commotions source, Fleezle tried to speak, but was nearly unintelligible as he was racked with a violent coughing spree. Rie’uo’abuie’ayu thought he caught the words "madness," and "insanity," in his hacking speech, but Rie’uo’abuie’ayu didn't feel like waiting until the comm officer regained his breath. Running in the direction Fleezle had indicated, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu's trepidation grew as signs of destruction increased as he approached the source of the chaos. His jaw dropped when the crater materialized through the dust and debris filled air.

It was some debris from the battle above. It had to have been. The remnants of the "meteorite" within the crater had obviously once been a part of a space craft. The fact that ship fragments from the conflict above were raining down upon the planet didn't bother him, however. It was the fact that it had landed in the midst of his men. Any debris that fell to the planet and was large enough to make it through the atmosphere had an entire hemisphere of land to choose from, but of all places it chose the few bortos (kilometers) occupied by his soldiers.

"It hates me," he muttered under his breath. "The universe legitimately hates me. This entire battle it has bent the very limits of probability to ensure my easy victory ended in failure. What's next? Will the Dominion suddenly have Vulza of their own which they will use to assault my position? Or maybe the planet itself will open up and swallow the remnants of my men!" He knew he was shouting by this point, but he was having difficulty caring. "Or maybe-"

Rie’uo’abuie’ayu's rantings were cut short as shouts of alarm and "Incoming!" sounded several hundred borts (meters) to his right, followed by another ground shattering impact. "Another one!?" Rie’uo’abuie’ayu yelled in disbelief, but he barely had time to register his newest complaint with the universe before another shuddering concussion came from his left. Eyes popping in near apoplexy, Rie’uo’abuie’ayu looked up. His heart nearly failed him, both metaphorically and medically, at what he saw.

Drop ships were falling from the sky, but instead of landing, they continued to accelerate right up until they slammed into the ground, obliterating anything nearby and jaring anything remotely close. They fell in pairs, each only several re (seconds) apart. The turret defenses, meant to protect against ground assaults, didn't have the complex targeting computers necessary to effectively intercept aerial attacks, and despite their operators best efforts, they made no noticeable difference as the orbital strike of insanity continued to rain from above.

"Just when I had thought this rictos (day) couldn't get any worse." Even as the words left his lips, the bombardment increased tenfold.

Blatvec couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. It was dulled somewhat by the fact that the 74th had just suffered more causalities than in any previous single encounter, but considering the forces against which they had been pitted, that there was anything other than casualties was a miracle in and of itself. There was also something savagely satisfying in watching a massive cylinder of reinforced armor plating fall on an enemy position in a gout of dirt and debris.

The shouts of surprise, panic, and sheer unbelief towards the beginning of the bombardment, heard even at this distance, had been also tickled Blatvec's fancy. He had long given up the hope that he was anything other than a psychopath at this point, but he hoped he was a fair one.

Even if he was the most biased of commanders, he had to admit, the squad-leader of the new unit from the 109th was a genius, which was even more shocking considering he was a Vzk'tk. When General Ickret had personally informed him of the transfer, Blatvec had felt nothing but disgust. After all, the 109th was those who struggled even in basic training. Soldiers who were accepted only because of the current climate of desperation. Units from the 109th could hardly dream of being a part of the 74th, let alone expect to survive in it.

The results didn't lie, however, and this Vzk'tk had not only saved the entire 74th, but now managed to conjure up an orbital strike using drop ships. An unheard of tactic, probably because such an idea was preposterous. Seeing the results, however, Blatvec couldn't say it was ineffective.

Strangely enough, the Vzk'tk squad leader looked nearly as shocked by his own plan as Blatvec. He had none of the calm confidence Blatvec had come to associate with true masters of strategy, and if he hadn't been the only creature of full intelligence, if such a term could be applied to a Vzk'tk, on the premises when Blatvec had arrived, he would have assumed the idea had come from anyone but him.

The other . . . thing . . . +*Human, right?*+ couldn't have conceived such a ploy. Sure, it was mildly intelligent, else it wouldn't have been put in the army, but it didn't have a translator, and what fully sapient species didn't have a translator? Blatvec assumed it was just the 109th squad's personal attack dog. He thought he remembered Ickret saying something about a "Human," being a great asset or something similar, and seeing the speed with which it ran from drop ship to drop ship Blatvec could believe it, but surely it didn't have the capacity for strategic thought. Right?

Too many of his assumptions had proven wrong that day for Blatvec to feel like making another, so he decided to reserve final judgement until he was proven correct or otherwise. Still, he doubted he was wrong.