Why Humans Make Bad Pets!

I’ve found a new family II

“Really sir, how invaluable is this soldier?" piped up Vttmcik'ntyr, "Yes, it’s amazing that he was able to kill a Vulza, but he’s only one. How much of a greater difference does he make that one rover with a coilgun couldn’t match?”

“I’ll assume from your question that you haven’t read any of the reports I sent you.” Muulk grunted. Vttmcik'ntyr winced. He knew he should have, but really, all the papers had just been incident reports. He had assumed they were just more accounts of the creature killing Vulza, or other similarly heroic acts. Incredible, to be sure, but nothing that could single-handedly turn the course of the war. He was soon disillusioned.

“To bring you back up to speed, over the past cycle the soldier has not only managed to kill three more Vulza, but has also been the reason his squad has been placed on the front line for every single battle.”

“What?!” Cried Vttmcik'ntyr, “That’s a death scenten – wait. How have they managed to be put on the front line more than once or twice? No one on the front survives, it’s a meat grinder!”

“Exactly,” Muulk said, grinning at the expression on Vttmcik'ntyr’s face, “Not only has this soldier successfully led the charge of fourteen battles, he has somehow managed to keep his entire squad alive at the same time. That squad has only lost three of its members since he was enlisted, on a troopship that has such a high mortality rate that entire squads have to be replaced after every battle. This soldier has turned perhaps our worst troopship into one of our most effective. As happy as I am that we no longer have such a substantial drain upon our newly trained personnel, the reason the 109th was assigned to such an inconsequential sector was because every better division was needed somewhere else.”

“We’ll send them some of the new harnesses,” Muulk continued, “Which should be enough for them to deal with what they have over there. Aside from the four Vulza that were, for some unfathomable reason, committed to such a minor front, there aren’t any rovers, turrets, or tanks over there. If these new suits are as powerful as Tyyvcl'lkklkzx says, they should only need three or four. Now that you completely understand how potent this creature is, what should we do with him? He’s wasted on the 109th. Ideas?”

Opening his mouth for the first time since the meeting had started, Ickret, a mere three star general and therefore most junior member at the table, spoke. “I’ve actually been looking into that. It turns out that the squad Human – that’s the soldier’s name – was placed into was already one of the most veteran squads of the 109th. They were considered good enough that a plital was reassigned to their squad when his original was annihilated by a Vulza. Apparently it was reasoned they would be the least affected by not having a full complement of competent members, and it made the paperwork look pretty. Now that they’ve survived more frontline charges than most 109th squads do battles, they’re by far the most skilled on that ship. I think they would survive a reassignment to the 74th.”

“Surely not,” snorted Vttmcik'ntyr, “I don’t care what kind of experience they’ve gained on the front. The 74th is the only division that we had before the war that isn’t dead now. They’re the only division we can count on giving us victories. The kind of mayhem they’re thrown into on a [weekly] basis would kill anyone from the 109th from the shock alone! There’s a reason we consider the entire 74th to be a special forces division and send only the most gifted recruits as replacements. It’s because they’re expected to go up against everything the enemy has and come out alive. The 109th gets those we don’t flunk out of boot-camp because we’re so desperate for troops. What makes you think they could even last a re (5 seconds) with the 74th?”

“Because they have Human,” retorted Ickret. “He’s managed to kill, on his own, with only a Fusion scythe, the creature that is able to crush turrets, flip tanks, and snap rovers with ease. He’s defeated the very thing that has allowed the Celzi to get this far. If he can face down a Vulza, and that squad is able to follow him as he does, what do you think could stand in their way?”

Vttmcik'ntyr didn’t really know what to say to that. Muulk made it so he didn’t have to say anything. “Well then, it’s settled. Human and his squad will be transferred to the 74th.” He seemed overjoyed that someone else had done all the legwork for him, probably because he lacked such appendages. “Now that’s settled, we can finish this endless meeting. I’ve a meal I’ve been dying to get to. Dismissed.”

Dear Journal,

I’ve found a new family.

Oh, and I think I might have messed up last time.

I don’t care though, King Arthur is better.

Who the f**k is St. George anyway?

I’m sorry I haven’t written to you in a while Journal, it’s been kind of hectic. I know I know, stop yelling. Well when you think about it in the scheme of things, does it actually matter how long it was? The point we need to be focusing on here is that I’m back and that I missed you terribly. Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know how long it was. It’s ok, I’m back now you can stop crying. That’s better. Are you ready to listen to my story? Yes? That’s a good Journal.

In case you were wondering, I have not resorted to turning my mental Journal into an imaginary friend due to the extended lack of human contact. I’m perfectly healthy in every way. In the six months (sorry Journal) since I had joined the army, that was surprisingly true, especially given the fact that I was perhaps the most popular target on the battle field. Sure, I was usually in a constantly bruised state, but considering what those shots usually did to anyone else whose shield failed, I was looking pretty chipper.

I’d also been given a new name, although Manthlel and the squad still called me Human: “Vulza’trtr”. I think it was something lame like dragon slayer, but for some reason the first few times people said it they always seemed to get a kick out of it. Aliens, what can you say? To my utter disappointment, I hadn’t been allowed to keep any of their bodies of the dragons I’d killed. I could have made some Dragon Scale Armor! I don’t really know how I would have gone about actually making it, but I’m sure I’d have found a way.

I was lying in bed, munching on the seventh tasteless alien dough sphere of my lunch when Manthlel interrupted my “meal”. I looked up as he started to flail his arms about as though fighting off an exuberant Italian salesman. I would have just enjoyed the entertainment 6 months before, but now I recognized the weird “language” the squad and I had concocted so they could communicate with me. It was extremely simple. Really, it was just a slightly more comprehensive version of the gestures used by the military for silent communication on the battle field, although I doubt their version contained so many variations upon the thumbs up.

gestured Manthlel, which came across as a finger twirl and then an open palm that made it look like he was waiting for a high five. Really, it would have been a very simple gesture if he had only done it with one of his arms, but for some reason that I had not yet been able to comprehend, he gesture-spoke with all four of his arms simultaneously, making even the shortest conveyance an alarming symphony of twirls and thumbs up.

I gesticulated, making my hand into a gun as I shrugged in question.

he conducted in reply. I sighed. That hand motion, the same someone who’s drowning makes as they reach towards the surface, was perhaps the second most common gesture, next to the thumbs up. It had been worth it though; to create a sign which admitted a deficiency in our cat fight of a language. After several days of frustrated caveman speak, I had finally managed to get the squad to understand what I had wanted that gesture to convey. Now it was in almost every conversation we had off the battlefield.

I don’t think they quite noticed the grasping gesture my hand had been making at the end of my extended arm, because the sign was starting to look dangerously close to the Nazi Salute, although in Manthlel’s case it looked more like he was saluting hydra with twice the vigor of the usual fanatic. I didn’t feel like correcting them, although it would be great if my laziness led to the first formal contact between humans and aliens looking like a neo-nazi convention. Manthlel walked away, giving me no choice but to cram the last alien dough sphere into my mouth, sling my lava scimitar over my back, and follow him.

I motioned, hoping to get a better idea of what this not-battle adventure would entail.

He seemed to struggle with his hands Great, now Manthlel was trying to use caveman speak to have philosophical discussions with me. I scratched the top of my head, informing him of my confusion. He seemed to have been holding his breath, hoping that I would catch his drift. He deflated. I hated that sign; a shrug accompanied by a bewildered twist of the hands. It usually meant another tedious flail battle of confusion was in the future.

Wherever I was going, it involved a transport shuttle rather than a drop shuttle. Perhaps a barracks? Maybe that’s what he had meant by troopship but not a troopship. I guessed I’d figure it out soon enough.

“What are they thinking?!” burst Cresh for the seventh time since the shuttle had started the two ricta (3 week) trek required to take them from what had become one of the safest divisions and into the most dangerous one by far. “We can’t survive in the 74th! Sure, Human’s basically invincible, but we aren’t! We don’t have the kind of training those guys do.”

“Keep your trap shut Cresh,” Growled Trxcl, “If command thinks we can survive up there then we will. They wouldn’t throw away good men. Not with the reserves in the state they are.”

“What if we’re not being transferred to fight?” asked Manthlel into the following silence. After his stunt with the first dragon and his refusal to run away from the following, the squad had become significantly more pleasant towards him. No, they weren’t really willing to be chums with him yet, but at least they didn’t glare at him every time he opened his mouth anymore. “What if the only reason we’re being taken along is because we’re able to issue a semblance of complex commands to Human? What if we’re just being sent as interchangeable translators?”

This utterance plunged the cabin into an even greater silence than before. In fact, very little was said during the entire trip.