>>5035774

It appears that not only were the observing everything, but recording and analyzing it. When the war began, they knew exactly where to strike. Our shipyards were blown out of orbit, weak sections of battle line targeted and our fleets scattered as they hit critical supply and logistics bases. Their knowledge of our communication systems created havoc as they jammed our signals and anticipated our every move.

After the treaty was signed, and my council given the task to discover what went wrong, a human naval officer provided the necessary insight. He called their information gathering “espionage” and spoke of the surprise his people felt when allowed unfettered access to our most sensitive information. I had to explain how we had no experience with such rampant curiosity, that we only seek the information absolutely necessary to the task at hand.

There's a book about a galactic federation or something where aliens give species sentience and that species servers their uplifters for 10000 years. Then they discover humans, who evolved on their own, and this totally wrecks their belief. So yeah, humans are the trolls of the galaxy.

Damn it auto-saged? I just fucking posted to!

>>5035913

That would be David Brin's Uplift Trilogy. Great books, though I haven't read the sequel trilogy, The Uplift War.

>>5035913
Omg. I remember that series. They had the Dolphins and teh Monkeys who were all... awesome. Seriously. I need to find that series agian. I lost it. =( Specifically the book broke into seven different sections shortly before the first fight I ever got in to at school.

>>5035913

It was interesting - just before the uplift war, was the Sundiver experiemnt, where they sent a spaceship into the sun. All the human home-grown tech worked fine, but all the Advanced Tech gotten from the Library the aliens used and offered to other uplift spicies all failed. The book was Sundiver.

The aliens hated us for having survived, gained high tech, and uplifted two species on our own, because that was not how it was supposed to work; we were supposed to be indebted to them for being uplifted, not actually uplifting other species and putting ourselves on an equal footing with older, more 'advanced' races.

>>5036190
Does anyone have in in ebook form? And if so, can you upload them to bookchan? Maybe my search-fu is weak, but I couldn't find it. Granted, my last visit to bookchan was around a week ago, so I might have missed something.

Anyone have the one where we are compared to some Lovecraftian horrors?

This thread is awesome, I'm gonna re post the oc that I made for the last on in a bit.

“Can you recall the events that resulted with your return from the Human Relations mission we sent you on? Specifically the events involving an entire cargo ship worth of missing Au and your return being possible thanks to said Humans who found you floating through space grasping for breath in a waste chute?”

“Yes, yes I can.”

“…and?”

“Well the events are rather embarrassing.”

“If it’s a mocking response you fear I can assure you that I will hold my amusement, my disdain however might just show itself.”

“Well it all started while I was headed towards the Human flag ship. I was forced to slow down due to an unforeseen asteroid cluster that had drifted into our path. While I slowed the ship in order to chart the shortest course around or above it I noticed a weak human distress beacon nearby. Since the ship was under my command and I wasn’t aware of some Human’s tendency of treachery I acted accordingly and docked with the ship. I suppose the first sign things were astray should have dawned on me when I noticed little modification was needed to partake in the boarding of the ship, alas I was ignorant…

Repostan

++The following story is appropriate for Post-Natal Broodlings Stage 3 to 5++

"How Xiulaqu'e'th Learned to Breath Fire"

One day Xiulaqu'e'th left his progenitor's nest to procure nourishment at the nearby hub of exchange. As he walked the road, he was beset by broodlings many cycles his elder.

"Give us your exchange-helpers so that we may exchange with the humans!" cried one of the elder broodlings quite fearsomely.

"Oh!", exclaimed Xiulaqu'e'th as he fearfully tried to run past them. Alas, he could not do so quickly and struck by many mighty blows before escaping.

At the hub of exchange, Xiulaqu'e'th, in great pain, procured nourishment but dreaded his return. The elder broodlings would surely be waiting for him. In his fear, he forgot his eyes and ran right into a human.

Fearfully, Xiulaqu'e'th looked up at the figure, towering over him on two limbs. The human held a firewand and breathed in its flame before exhaling its ghost trail like the soot wyrms of myth. Xiulaqu'e'th turned pale as the giant began to bend down...

I have copies of the book. I found a torrent on TPB a while back that contained something like 10,000 Fantasy/sci-fi novels.

Now that I had the authors name/series name, I just looked through my collection. I have book 1-7 of teh Uplift saga, as well as a few other books from that author.

if I knew how to upload or if I could find the link to the torrent on TPB again, I'd offer it.

After me and the guards from the ship went inside we were greeted with the hostility from the one human on board you could call both mad and genius. When we located what we thought was the crew in the cockpit it turned out to be fake bodies! The door slammed shut behind us and a gaseous substance began getting pumped into the room, I lost conciseness first. When I woke I was in the holding cell of my ship. I couldn’t tell completely but I’m fairly certain the man from before came in and put a gun up to my face.

Handing me a translator he explained that he was in need of my assistance, I was to call up for a last minute change to the diplomatic conditions. Specifically a medium cargo ship filled with Au to be delivered in orbit around a nearby moon. He would kill me if I didn’t and in the act of self preservation I did what I thought needed to be done in order to save my life. I called in from my ship an had them deliver the gold. I assumed that he would give me back my ship and let me return to our fleet but alas, he dumped me in the waste disposal unit and jettisoned it from the craft. You know the rest of the story by now.”

“Yes, I know that you were found and returned by another Human ship and thanks to the their sympathy to your failure they relaxed on the peace agreement enough so that we may afford it without much hindrance to our own. You got lucky, don’t be so gullible next time.”

With that the councilor dismissed the emissary while letting out an audible sigh.

>>5036351
More, brood mother, more!

This thread is fantastic! I always considered half of traditional games to be the story that they told.

>>5036313

Short version: the Elder Race, the Mi-go, and the Great Race of Yith all started out similar to humans, and just kept building, similar to what we're doing.

Can we not repost the same stuff that was in the last thread? Seriously?

>>5036515

To be fair, the last thread had a goodly amount of original material.

Not that these threads veer far away from 'humans are tough,' but any deviation from the usual 'humans are pathetic' is a good thing.

bump

>>5036351
But Xiulaqu'e'th did not perish in a fire. Instead, the human looked at him with kindness and despite its size spoke gently, like harvest wind.

"You should take care where you walk, little one. It's crowded and one such as you can be easily trampled on."

Xiulaqu'e'th's felt a mix of relief and trepidation. The elder brood still told stories of the first humans, how threw storms of hardest shale that laid waste to whole generations. Their mighty beasts of burden that rumbled hives when they passed over, right down to the deepest chambers. But that was many generations ago. Now they were protectors and exchangers.

"So? Do you have anything to say little one?"

Xiulaqu'e'th, not knowing why, told the human of his great fear. How he dreaded his return home yet knew he must walk it. The human listened, its visage intent but amused. At the end, it simply shook its head and made a sound of mirth.

>>5036351
sooo? What happens?

Xig’Thule, (A History of Danara’s, First Contact.)

The humans that we faced today were nothing like the ones from yesterday. Something changed. I believe a thing they call desperation, is what turned the tide. We were winning. Claiming the universe as our own was within our grasp. Alas, we underestimated them, for in their desperation that lashed out and managed to defeat us. As our main force headed towards their last bastion of security we did not know the havoc they would soon wreak. Their nuclear weapons were no match for out shields, they found a way through that.

By releasing a concentrated EMP blast encased along with the nuclear missile they managed to take out half our fleet before we realized what was happening. We assumed it would be an easy kill on our way to becoming the one species to rule them all, yet in the end they thought their way through and capitalized on our arrogance. Our remaining commanders ordered a full retreat. The second mistake we made, for the humans had another trick up their sleeve. Adaptability. They could take almost any alien technology and make it compatible with their own. By the time we mustered together a second fleet it was useless. They had managed to jump ahead of us technology wise. They even strip mined their moon to do it. Now we live in fear of them, a long lasting truce that I fear may run its course when they grow tired of us, for they are now dreaming of becoming masters of the universe. That dream is dead to us.

>>5036640

This looks good so far.

>>5036640
>>5036351

I love this style.

Please, continue!

It was strange. That's the best I could describe it, as we climbed the freefloating stairs to the podium. We, humanity, had come a long way since first contact. We have suffered, and we have toiled, and at long last, we have secured our place amoung the stars, and yet, it was a strange feeling that came over me that day. I could feel it as my convoy approached the artificial island that hosted the Galactic Senate. I know my escorts could feel it as well. It was all around us as we skimmed over the crystal clear water, it's greenish tint barely hiding the aquatic cities that were built beneath it's waves. I myself strode up those stairs, and took the podium, it's pure white stone stood in little contrast to the silver metal that was to be the voice amplifier. As I spoke the words of commitment, I looked out upon the gathering. They were all there,all the delegations from all the races in the union. I felt proud to represent my species there that day, and confident as I entered Humanity into the galactic senate. However, I felt put off by the feeling. The escort that was assigned to me was a well mannered ensign from one of the home worlds, and when ask to what was that feeling, he simply smiled, and responded. "Fear. That's them trembling in their boots sir." It was a history lesson in less then a few seconds as my neural boosters accessed and released the information.

Humanity, a race born of the Abysmal regions. Where lawlessness and strife was common, and the galactic senate and it's combined peace keeping force had no power. Indeed, we were monsters, born in the deepest, darkest region of space, and yet, by pure luck. We survived, and multiplied. We cut our own empire through the darkness, and through blood, and power alone, we finally opened up the way for the first contact with the "civilized" part of the galaxy. As I finished on that podium, with all those aliens stareing at me, I concluded my words of Acceptance, and spoke my thanks for this honored role, knowing that we, Humanity itself, was the mosters.

>>5036640
"I think you give those bullies more credit than they deserve!"

Xiulaqu'e'th did not understand its words but recognized wisdom. Profound and vast, his head swam in its revelations. But Xiulaqu'e'th knew that thoughts could not shield his body and fell once more into despair.

The giant repeated its mirth sound and spoke, "Ah, what are we going to do with you? Here, take this, you look like you need it more than I do!" It stretched out one of its two appendages and held within it the firewand, glowing fiercely.

Xiulaqu'e'th hesitated, he tried to wield it as the giant did, but could not replicate its grace. It looked at Xiulaqu'e'th and beckoned him to inhale the fire.

How can one describe the feeling of fire dancing in one's carapace? The sensation of its ghost trail fluttering outward? Xiulaqu'e'th knew what it was to breathe fire.

"We see you have returned and have used our exchange helpers!" yelled the elder broodling. "How considerate that you - "

His words remained in his throat as he saw Xiulaqu'e'th approach. Undaunted. Unwavering. Unafraid.

He saw Xiulaqu'e'th breathe fire.

>>5036824
No john, you ARE the demons!

HELLO WE ARE ALIEN SOMETHING CYCLES AGO WE ENCOUNTER STRANGE FLESH THINGS CALLSED HUMAN.

WE VERY ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY SO CONFIDENT IN THEIR DESTRYCTION BUT THEY FIERCE HAVE NO FEAR AND NUMEROUS

THIS IS LAST TRANSMISSION LOL

>>5036875

The best.

>>5036853
And that's it for Xiulaqu'e'th. Wow this was fun. I'm really surprised some liked it. This is the first time I've indulged in any writefaggotry. I did a little thing in the last thread and I just couldn't stop. Don't ever change, /tg/.

>>5036875

If you don't like it why are you here bumping it?

So...are we allowed to post actual stories?

>>5036508
No, not that.
It described us like yhe Mythos descibed their beings.

>>5036910
I liked it quite a bit.
Wouldn't mind seeing more, at least.

>>5036925
yes

>>5036910
You're a damn good writer man. keep it up.

>>5036875

Usually in sci-fi, it's the opposite.

>>5036925

Actual stories, as in real life experiences. Maybe, depends on whether you've had any relations with beings from other worlds where you turned out to be the better, more powerful, or more intelligent.

Stories you wrote are ok also.

From the logs of Kros-Ylat, Archivist-Elect, 32nd Alliance Observation Team:

In this war, my task has been to study humanity as part of our tenuous alliance. For all my season-cycles of observing the humans, I have heard more than I have seen; tales of irrational combat, battling against improbable odds and succeeding with a brutally thin margin of victory, sometimes failing just as spectacularly. Until now, none among my fellow observers in the regiment have been able to pinpoint the source of these tales. Now, I believe I know.

An interesting fact - we all know that humans breed along a bipartate mating structure, but they do not always mate for life. Courtships are constantly shifting, never taken for granted, and even child-bearing mating pairs have been known to split apart. With this in mind, it is still true that the expected loyalist mating behavior emerges periodically. While difficult to understand, it can be observed, and thereby said to exist.

Two of the human warrior-caste are the subjects of this observation, who were bound thus. They were set to man one of their crude vehicles on the frontlines against the nonsentient Kryythik hivecreatures, alongside a small contingent of our own surrogate-drones. I was observing through a drone assigned to accompany one of these vehicles - they truly are crude, as if bolted together from sticks, these "buggies" - and I have the pilot of that drone to thank in part for my observation, grim thought it may be.

>>5036875here

its not that i hate it. in fact i love FUCK YEAH HUMANS ARE AWESOME

its just that its a recurring theme and a change of pace would be nice.

“Thrusters aft, evasive ac—”
The impact was so powerful, yet so quickly over, that it was like a subliminal flash; one quake and it was gone.
SolCore Commander Joseph Alsace quivered in his command seat like a thrown knife, bellowing out of the side of his mouth without turning his face for an instant from the field-of-combat display. “Status!”
His Control first, Lieutenant Don Perkins, spun to face him. “It was a grazing blow, sir. Took off an entire section of the lower deck, but our lateral motion was enough to carry it past us instead of gutting the ship.”
Alsace pulled up a quick wireframe schematic of the damage. The piece carved cleanly from the side of the ship looked like a bullet wound. Fortunately, though, the decks hit were only storage and auxiliaries—the damage was minimal.
“All right, keep moving, keep moving! Steph,” his voice was suddenly compassionate, “how are you doing?”
The officer on Helm, Second Lieutenant Stephanie Swift, nodded her head at him slightly with a quick, jerky motion. Her hands were flying over her command board in an uninterrupted stream; a sheen of sweat glistened on her face. Alsace grimaced and rubbed one of his fingers across the knuckles of his left fist. She wasn’t even the Helm first; his first had gone down with a nasty mutation of the gravs, and Swift, the second, had been brought up to fill in for her shift.
Now, she was running sequence after sequence of overlapping evasive maneuvers, manhandling the ship on one cracked engine chamber, and despite it all, managing to bring the ship about for repeated strafing runs on the Skree cruiser.
He wasn’t sure if he could have handled the burden. It was a wonder that she could.
A new voice cut in from the side.
“Launch, launch! Plasma launch, twelve MPs off port!”

>>5036967
>>5036967
>>5036967

This is long, so I'm gonna have to space it out to avoid a flood.

Listen well young ones. T'was milenia ago when we first came across the humans. They were so similar to us but so different. We were taller, prettier and had a deeper connection with nature while they were.. round and caused many ecological disasters across their worlds. We had heard of their war mongering with the ugly races of the cosmos but they did not with us, and we offered no war to them for that was not our way.

Alsace whirled once more to confront the massive, glowing projection of the field-of-combat holopanel. The FOC was shimmering and flickering with a chaotic mixture of blue, red, white, and green dots; golden threads connected them with tiny boxes of text displaying sensor readings and data tags.
“What’s the velocity?” He addressed the question to the empty air. The sensor officer picked it up.
“1200 feet per second, sir. Accelerating.”
Fast one. Shit.
“All about, give me as much speed as you can. See if you can maintain those engines at 80.” One of the three engines had sustained a huge crack in yesterday’s engagement when a pulse of plasma had passed too close. Last-minute heroics from engineering had been enough to keep it partially running, enough to fight with, but Alsace had been assured that if he pushed it to hard, it would melt down.
“C’mon, let’s sprint the bastard for the finish! Aft camera, magnify to size.”
The camera’s vision doubled, tripled, and finally found the approaching plasma torpedo with a 10x visual magnification. Looming on the screen, it closed with terrifying speed.
Nervously, Alsace gave a compulsive smack of his palm against the side of his chair. “Faster, you shit!”
With any other bridge crew, he reflected, people would be starting to wonder by now. The catalog of engagements against the Skrees, mostly crushing defeats with horrifying losses, told one thing for certain: evade, escape, or destroy the enemy before they let off a shot, but of all things, you will never, ever outrun them.
The officers worked quietly and efficiently at their various tasks, nobody giving off even a murmur of dissent.
Such trust could be dangerous.

>>5036984
They began moving in to our worlds, slowly at first, settling in a community or studying at our great tree libraries, but it soon became a problem as their lives were many times shorter then ours were back then and their breeding rate was many times faster. Their population slowly consumed our great and pure cities, ecological waste became worse and worse. Our elders put in bans and the humans discussed many "green" technology options which they never did put into effect or caused worse calamity in a different part of the ecology.

>>5036991
It was around this time our ancestors realized that humans had actually managed to crossbreed with our kind. The young, so interested in the new and different, the exciting and fast fell into many relationships. It spiraled out of control, their human genetics polluting our own, producing half humans. More similar to us but impulsive and fast like the humans. Soon our species hit a crisis and our pure bloods were bred out; we have become a race of nothing more then half humans. Our once pristine lands and cities polluted, our elegant star ships and stations bulky and.. so machined. I weep for what we could of been, what we lost because of the humans, the other half of our ancestry.

“Plasma closing,” the sensor officer reported calmly. Lieutenant Steven Donahue was a lifer, a veteran of a dozen engagements against the Skrees; he spoke as if he were ordering dinner. “Impact imminent.”
With a quick hand, Alsace set collision alerts ringing throughout the ship. Then, facing forward, he fixed his gaze on his command display and issued a series of machine-gun orders.
“Positional thrusters, rotate to 70° contraspin. Give me two sets of emergency thrusters online and hot, route control to my board. Side camera! And don’t let up that speed.”
With his eyes, he tracked the approach of the shot on his display and the visual screen. 10,000 . . . 5000 . . . too fast.
Quietly, he said, “No matter what happens, Stephanie, don’t stop what you’re doing.”
He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him. He prayed that she had.
Suddenly, with only a momentary flash of unmistakable light as its harbinger, the massive charge of molten plasma was on the side-viewing camera—and with a hammering fist, he slammed into activation every emergency thruster he had.
The entire bridge of the Winterborn seemed to freeze for a heartbeat.
Then, in the space of one infinitesimal mote of time and the next, it leapt fifty horizontal meters, and cleanly, neatly, the charge of plasma slipped through the gap in the keel of the cruiser.
Thrown against the side of his console with brutal force, Alsace wrenched himself back into his seat, every muscle aching. The plasma was on the screen, then past—coughing, he croaked out, “Aft,” and the sensor officer flicked the main display to the aft camera—there it was, turning in a tight, elliptical arc. Half of the glowing mass was dissipated already into the surrounding maw of vacuum, and the charge was moving more slowly, but it was still very much there.
He coughed around bruised ribs. “Control,” he said, “damage?”

He could sense Perkins shaking his head. “Negligible; some bubbling of the hull from the close pass. Cauterized a few conduits.” Alsace turned slightly now, to see Perkins exhaling, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “That was a . . . hell of a move, sir.”
Maybe. Alsace decided not to mention how much of a role luck played in such maneuvers. Luck and desperation. Some things were better left unsaid. “Let’s make it worth something.
“Weps, what’s your status?”
The lumbering Sam Deville looked up from the weapons station. “We lost a couple dozen missile pods from that stunt of yours. Cooked off right in the chambers. Kinetics are hot and ready.
“Battery’s as charged as it’s going to get with one engine on the fritz. Laser CIWS and point-defenses are all online.” Deville shifted uneasily. “All ten of the nukes are still off-safe and armed. You’re sure—”
“Yes.” He didn't have time to debate the exigency of that particular order. Not now. “Countermeasures are active?”
The weapons officer gave a perceptible tilt of his head. “Yes, sir.”
The plasma was back on the screen, streaking in for the kill.
“Very well. Helm, prepare for cold-start burn, 30 degree starboard rotation and all speed. Weps, on my signal—” No, that wouldn’t work. No time. “Belay that. On the signal to burn, I want you to launch every rear chaff pod that we have.”
Deville blinked. “Chaff?”
“Now!”

It was a credit to their training that despite being bewildered, they both moved instantly and simultaneously, with absolute faith in his orders.
A thought chased across his head. These are the kind of people we’re fighting for.
As the Winterborn exploded into motion, Deville entered a rapid-fire string of commands, bringing online and then auto-salvoing the entire rear array of 250 chaff pods. They blew out in a thick, silent, glimmering cloud, filling the air with hundreds of pounds of electrically-charged shrapnel.
The ship screamed in protest as Lieutenant Swift squeezed every last joule of energy from the agonized engines. A cold burn brought the engines into use faster than anything else, but its output of power was stutteringly irregular until the tubes could catch up to the heat of the reactors.
They were just beginning to gain real speed, pulling toward the altered course, when the remaining plasma struck the cloud of steel chaff.
It was like watching a tidal wave smash through fifty miles of dense cotton. At first, the enormous, powerful blast of molten fire tore through the storm of metal like a cannon through glass. But slowly . . . ever so slowly, it seemed to stumble, as if tripping on its own weight, and catch, and lose coherence.
The Winterborn, desperately scrambling for velocity, arched onto its new heading—just as the shreds of the plasma ripped out of the metallic haze. Its energy dispersed, its containing field ruined, it was literally torn to fragments.

It missed the Winterborn by five hundred meters, and sailed past into space, all control lost.
The chaff field was almost wholly destroyed; its pieces had been first vaporized, then slowly condensed into liquid, and finally solidified into a single, massive sphere of ruined metal.
Alsace released his death grip on the arms of his chair, closed his eyes, and took three full, deep breaths. Only then did he look up once more at the FOC display and begin to think.
He considered doing a full status round of the bridge crew, as was proper, but decided not to bother. “Anything drastic I should know about?”
Shaking of heads.
“Okay. Steve,” he said, “What’s that Skree bastard up to?”
The sensor officer consulted his board.
“She's . . . still just sitting there, sir. I don’t . . . I don’t know. She hasn’t moved an inch, but readings still have her fully powered and active.”
Perkins looked over at Alsace. “Maybe a mobility kill, sir? That nuke we threw at her might have nailed something with EMP.”
Alsace shook his head. “Doubtful. EMP’s never done shit in any previous engagements.”
“We did put a few Kinetic rounds down her gullet before that, sir. Maybe something got jarred loose. Or maybe another ship got to her before us and damaged her.”
Sighing, Alsace massaged his temples, trying to mitigate the pounding in his head. “Maybe. But in any case, they’ve still got their guns—so they’re still dangerous.
“Especially this son of a bitch. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not normal.”
Deville spoke up. “There have been those rumors of that rogue flagship that’s been rampaging through the systems. Supposedly bigger than any cruiser we’ve seen before, travels without any support. And they say she’s taken on two full-sized task forces that were assigned to handle her and ruined them.”

>>5036910
++Excerpts from An' yuir's "On Philosophy"++

"I have only exchanged words with Terrans twice in my life. Twice with the same Terran. Once during peace and once during war.

In peace, I asked if it feared death. It said yes. I looked into its eyes and saw some truth.

In war, I asked if it feared death. It said no. I looked into its eyes and saw only truth."

"What we observe regarding Terrans:
- They are savage.
- They are vindictive.
- They are transient.

What we cannot deny regarding Terrans:
- They are noble.
- They are forgiving.
- They are eternal.

What we know of Terrans:

They are unfathomable."

From the last thread. With that, good night /tg/.

>>5036853
>>5036640
>>5036351
This is full of d'awwwsome. Good work, Anon.

Trying to smile, Alsace got only a wretched half-smirk. “This would be the same one that they say single-handedly dusted the entire Ganymede defense fleet without taking a hit?”
Swift finally took a moment to lean back from her board. She looked exhausted as she put her two cents in—“That part’s no rumor, sir. My brother was staffing the Ganymede planetary defense center when it happened. Six out of the seven ships defending the colony, including the cruiser Queen Mary, were either wiped out or crippled. The Mary managed to jump out, but only on AI—everybody aboard was dead.”
She met Alsace's eyes with her own. “I don’t know what did it. SOLCORE Fleet’s still saying it was just another attack force. But . . . ”
“How could a single ship destroy six of ours in one go, without us at least tagging her?” Alsace scowled. “They’re good, people—but they’re not that good.”
“Permission to speak freely?” asked Donahue drily. Alsace looked at him in mild surprise, but nodded. Donahue raised his voice slightly.
“They jumped into the system without any warning, but with an energy reading that was off the charts. They were using some kind of thermal ducting, though, so not even we saw her at first, and we were right next to her."

You know those muscles the humans have? Yes? Do you know how they get those muscles? They tear them apart, that's right they physically strain their bodies intentionally ripping the tissue. Then it heals over stronger then before and they rip it again. They don't simply molt into a larger body such as ourselves, they make it themselves through physical torture.

“Ten Kukri’s. All of them were snapped out of space practically before they left our shadow. Then no less than six Kinetic heavies—including the prototype super heavy that the Sanctuary tech heads have been raving to us about—and she took every one of them without even flinching. By the rough-and-ready color charts, her shields didn’t even lose more than 25.
“Then the nuke, which Sam managed to drop practically up their asses, but that didn't take her shields by more than a third, either.
“Following this she launches her own fighters, and those frickin’ tricked-out Lilim decimate our entire 10th Fighter Squadron, save for a handful. You pull ’em back, and it takes us almost 90 of our point-defense capability to finally hose them all. In the meanwhile, long-range comms are lost. Not that they’d have done much good—as you know, communication have been on the blink ever since the Skree ship de-spaced in the system. What a surprise.
“And finally, allow me to remind you that she then proceeded to pump no less than three torpedoes at us in a single volley. This from more than twice the range of any previously recorded plasma attacks, and half again the speed. We dodge one until it sputters, we eat one, and we play with that last one until you, Sam, and Steph pull off a nice bag of miracles.”
Donahue crossed his arms and sat back in his seat. “And mind you, they’ll do this all again as soon as we get back into range.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but it sure sounds to me like this sumbitch could take on a couple battlefleets of our guys—especially if she had her engines.”
Grimacing, Alsace fingered the exposed muzzle of his pistol where it sat on his belt. “But we have to do something. If this ship gets out of the system, God knows what she’ll do.”
Nobody spoke, until Deville said quietly, “Yes, sir.”

Holy cock. Label your stories or indicate what post you're following on from.

It's like trying to listen to five different people telling different stories all at once and they all sound the fucking same.

“Three.” Lieutenant Perkins wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. “We hit them. We go in with everything we have, and hope for a miracle.”
Alsace looked at Perkins, his voice weary. “And your recommendation, Lieutenant?”
There was a moment of silence. Then he coughed convulsively. When he finally spoke, it was with a tired, raspy voice.
“I think we’ve about gone through our quota of miracles for the day.” He coughed again, and then subsided.
“But . . . I also think that hoping for a miracle is better than no hope at all.”
Alsace nodded.
Then he looked around the bridge, and stood.
“Make ready what you can, people. In twenty minutes, we move. I’ll be in my quarters . . . ” He picked up a numerical data pad and started to walk quickly from the bridge. “Adding up our miracle.”
He exited, and the pressure-sealing hatch slipped quietly shut.
________________________________________

Thousands of kilometers away, the gargantuan, menacing, dark-hued figure of the Skree behemoth awaited their decision.

*Winterborn*

“Three.” Lieutenant Perkins wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. “We hit them. We go in with everything we have, and hope for a miracle.”
Alsace looked at Perkins, his voice weary. “And your recommendation, Lieutenant?”
There was a moment of silence. Then he coughed convulsively. When he finally spoke, it was with a tired, raspy voice.
“I think we’ve about gone through our quota of miracles for the day.” He coughed again, and then subsided.
“But . . . I also think that hoping for a miracle is better than no hope at all.”
Alsace nodded.
Then he looked around the bridge, and stood.
“Make ready what you can, people. In twenty minutes, we move. I’ll be in my quarters . . . ” He picked up a numerical data pad and started to walk quickly from the bridge. “Adding up our miracle.”
He exited, and the pressure-sealing hatch slipped quietly shut.
________________________________________

Thousands of kilometers away, the gargantuan, menacing, dark-hued figure of the Skree behemoth awaited their decision.

The relationship between humanity and the rey'sn is a strange one. Humans are violent, in ways few dare comprehend, while rey'sn empathy is a natural barrier to violence - it is difficult to hurt something when you know you will feel whatever you inflict.

Rey'sn value a structured mind, while human thought is chaotic at the best of times. Unguarded negative emotions are sometimes intense enough to cause rey'sn physical pain. Although, the two species are structurally similar. So when a human first returned a rey'sn's romantic advances, every rey'sn within several miles received overwhelming emotional psi-input upon the...consummation of the relationship.

The human involved agreed never to speak of what resulted to anyone. While smiling like a bastard.

Rey'sn lend them some small technologies, and in exchange the humans protect them from more hostile races, notably the Reh'ly, and endure the occasional rey'sn attempt to 'civilize' or help 'improve' them.

It's a wonder how they get along so well at all.

In ancient times of old, when the stars were young, their lived a race of gods. Originally they were trapped in their own realm called Sol or as they called it E'rthT'er'aa. The Creators kept them in check, and with no one else besides themselves, they turned against each other and the universe was thus, spared of their wraith. But not all things last forever, and neither would the nightmare of sol's imprisonment. All races of the universe remember that moment. The moment when the god race Ho'mOssaPian destroyed the lock. For what seemed eternal, the universe fought back against this horror. Yet even the Creators fell, their backs broken and their skulls turned into trophies for the monster's ego. Our worlds fell one by one. They consumed them like a flood, uncompromising and without remorse. Reality itself soaked in the blood of countless sacrifice to the vile Dark Gods of E'rthT'er'aa. And yet, as suddenly as they came, they stopped. It was like being in the middle of a concert and then suddenly going deaf. None know what happened, perhaps they simply grew bored. Perhaps their hunger had been sated. Whatever their reason, they had ceased in their carnage. Countless millennium have passed, and yet we all know. They will come, will the genocide repeat? Or will other plans of theirs be realized? We do figure this much. To them, we are at best nothing more than toys, to do with us what they wish. At worst, an infestation to be utterly removed....

goddamn internet

>>5036958

The male was operating the vehicle's movement while the female was operating the weapon. The drone was riding alongside the driver to provide close-quarters support should one of the creatures get too close. The drone's presence proved useless, however, when a projectile - some sort of needle, an ejaculated stinger we had not yet observed - flew out from one of the creatures and impaled the female.

While the vehicle was still moving, the male screamed and leapt from his seat to attend to the female, nearly allowing the vehicle to collide into another. The female was gurgling from the fluid leaking into her respiratory system, and managed to utter some token words before collapsing from shock. The male stuttered and shook for a moment - it was here that I began recording via the head-rear optics - before letting out... a sound. A cry, a scream; these words are not sufficient to describe it.

It was as if the sound was comprised of pain. An animal screams in pain at its aggressor, to frighten it off, but with this sound the male lifted his head skyward, as if the world itself were that aggressor, even as the beast responsible had likely already died under allied gunfire...

***Automated Pacification Drone Report***
High volume of radio noise detected from 3rd planet of star SY-15560. Investigating.

***Automated Pacification Drone Update***
Planet is home to bipedal, low-sapience creatures. Rudimentary spaceflight and physics capabilities detected. Potential future threat. Recommendation: pacification. Awaiting confirmation.

***Automated Pacification Drone Update***
Confirmation received. Pacification underway; estimated time to completion, 1.6 local planetary orbits.

***Automated Pacification Drone Update***
Pacification complete. Remnants of planet used to construct additional pacification drones. Returning to seek mode.

>>5037109
>>5037097
>>5037083
>>5037075
>> whatever

Why is it SO FUCKING LONG?

*Winterborn*

“My ass you do! Let me see your sleeves!”
Corporal Tony Palomino put down his cards and lifted both hands above his waist, holding them out in the air with a grin. “Nothin’ but air, Boursey!”
“Aw . . . fuck you, man.” Groaning, Warrant Officer Taz Bourse picked up his billfold and shucked off five bills, balled them up one by one, then pitched them at Palomino. “God . . . damned . . . mother . . . fucking . . . scammer . . . ”
“You sure swear an awful lot for a career ah–feec–er, Boursey. You sure your mama would like that?”
“No, but I got something else that your mama likes a whole lot, asshole . . . ”
________________________________________
“Hot and ready, Scoundrel?” Major Sarah Hathcock flicked the “Test” toggle on her helmet’s HUD twice, then picked it up and began climbing the ladder to her Javelin spaceplane.
Her pilot, Major David “Scoundrel” Huntington, looked up at her and smiled. He tightened the last strap on his flight suit and scrambled up into the front seat of the plane, then slipped inside. A flight deck attendant wheeled the ladder away.

>>5037097
Excellent work, aside from that double post

>>5037123


What happened next, I have poor footage of, but I observed it readily in the moment. The male sat there by its mate for a long moment before it snapped its head around to address the drone. I do not know human-speech, but apparently the male instructed the drone to take the body of its mate, which the pilot did, as I failed to protest. The male took the drone's hand-weapon and jumped back into the vehicle, pressing the accelerator to the full and steering towards the creatures' horde while making another sound... like the first, but rougher, with intent. It was drowned out by the male's gunfire as it began firing through the front glassplate. The other gunners diverted their fire, but even after the vehicle plowed into the middle of the creatures' line and disappeared, the same number of them still seemed to fall.

After the battle, the drone-pilot found the male, as I instructed. It was covered in that ichorous blood and some of its own, limping with one of its appendages in a crude sling. Its armor was scratched, with whole parts torn off, and as the footage will show, there were multiple acid burns on its bare flesh. It looked at the drone - at me, almost - and stared, breathing heavily, before asking for the location of its mate's body.

My final hypothesis, based on this observation, is this; the humans' strength comes from an immense capacity for pain. I speak not of endurance, but of a sort of elasticity; a shape that, when distorted, snaps back farther than it was originally pulled. Or more accurately, as an animal lashes out when injured, these humans must return the pain dealt to them until it has been metered out in equal. But if no other race can feel the same pain, they can never be sated...

*Winterborn*
It's long because I enjoy writing. If you want me to stop, just tell me.


“Come one, weenies.” He muttered up at the high ceiling, above which, he knew, the Winterborn’s bridge was located. “Just give us a chance . . . ”
________________________________________
“Load in!”
“Locked!”
“And . . . armed.” The chief watch officer in charge of the deck 9 equipment preparedness slapped the key to activate the tube and flood it with helium, providing a safe, clean atmosphere for the launch.
“Next one!”
“Load in!”
“Locked!”
”Armed!”
The first loading assistant lifted the loading tongs again. The watch officer looked over the row of armed torpedoes, taking a quick count. They’d been given a strict time window of fifteen minutes to work with, and they had to be finished by the time they battened down and returned to their G-seats for a burn.
A dozen more, and they would be ready.

You are correct. I don't fear the Humans, as so many are wont to do. I respect them, yes, but fear them? Why should I? It is a common stereotype that the Human is a base creature, motivated only by sheer lust, whether for flesh or for blood. I, however, argue that this viewpoint is detrimental, not just to the Human, but to our own peoples.

You see, in previously observed cases, a race could not progress without unification. Races that fought amongst themselves quickly wiped themselves out, for it was only when every member of a race bands together and starts working towards a common purpose. Such was common wisdom- until we met the Terran Confederation. Even their name, 'Confederation', speaks of a system composed of differing, yet equal groups. Our common wisdom, but on a very limited, and very general scale. They fight amongst themselves, and even during the Katharian Scourge, they made conflict upon themselves, daring each other to ever greater, ever more glorious, ever more foolhardy actions. Theirs was the largest battles, the greatest purges, the bloodiest executions. For every human that fell, their Confederacy vowed ten Katahrians would die- though I would argue this a practical policy, considering that was the ratio by which the Humans were outnumbered, never mind us.

>>5037144
But...

After the war was won, it was the Humans who helped rebuild the Kathars, when we called for the logical extermination of the same. The Humans held donation drives across their worlds, and people who had fought the Katharians just weeks before turned out in droves to spend what little money they had left to assist a people who had decided to kill them before. The same biological data that the Humans used to develop biological weaponry was now used to assist their ex-enemies. Katharians now forced to live on conquered worlds were granted severeal rights. True, they enjoyed far fewer freedoms and privileges than humans, but the fact that they were allowed to live was far more than neither they nor we expected.

*Winterborn*

“Attention, all hands.”
Commander Blair Alsace released the mike switch for a moment to clear his throat. Then he mopped his neck with the edge of his uniform.
“This is your Commander.”
Once more, he hesitated. Then, wavering but bitterly firm, he forged ahead.
“I am addressing the ship as a whole to inform you of the actions we are now taking, to ensure victory and eventual success in this engagement, and to safeguard the lives of our fellow warriors.”
Too formal. Have to relax.
“At 1400 hours today, as you know . . . we met in combat with a Skree ship of unknown type. Shots were exchanged, and we fell back out of range to escape her fire. We have been considering our choices now, and have decided on a course of action.”
Around the ship, heads turned away from their tasks, eyes looked up at the loudspeakers. A deck of cards fell from a pair of hands.
“This . . . unknown vessel is of a kind we have never seen before, and possesses extremely potent weapons and defenses. She is a target of very high priority for the security of the UN, SOLCORE and the Earth, maybe a higher priority than we’ve ever seen.
“As such, she cannot be ignored.

>>5037146
And what is the end result? Katharians are one of the largest populations in their Confederation, the remnants of their empire having successfully petitioning to join several cycles ago. They have even begun research into genetic manipulation so that married Kathar/Human couples could have children! Can you imagine that? Detractors see it as Humanity's infamous sexual madness, but the fact that they even have it is in their favour. To see a being not just of your race, but an ancestral enemy as potential breeding material is one thing, to attract it in turn to you is another! Why, they're not even from the same evolutionary tree! Humans are mammals, Kathars are reptillian!

The humans, so different among themselves, have learned to not only tolerate, but thrive on it. Among us Gifted, who would undergo the hassle of donning a pressure suit and air tanks, just so we could talk to our Ifthir allies? Would we go through the expense of modifying our own brains so we could directly initiate telepathic contact with our fellow Rix? I dare say we won't, and they certainly would not upload their consciousness into machines so they could hold conference directly with us in the ether.

Report 8.13a - Logged by Lead Watcher Holil

The strangest thing about the humans is their obsession with the future. Of course, all races share a concern for the rippling effects of their actions, but the humans are unique in their disregard for probability. Every human in its youth expects to be a leader for its race, and the expectation persists well into adulthood.

It is difficult to wrap one's cognition around the pervasiveness of this belief, so I will provide two examples for your consideration:

>>5037156
But humans do. We all watch the human-made documentaries, the Galactic Geographic Society Specials on Ilthir society. Cranial modifications are all the rage among their young, because they find the Rix so intruiging. And I'm sure we all know the efforts of Ambassador Harkness to bridge our two peoples despite their fleshbound existence and our higher thought.

I won't deny that the humans have an ugly side. I know of their racism, and have experienced it first hand, when I visited their border worlds. I have seen the riots on their worlds when the Confederation gave one of those worlds over to the Malkan refugees for resettlement- but here's the thing. The riots were opposed by their own kind, who argued on humanitarian grounds. Can you imagine that? They fought the racists on the basis that the Malkans were worthy of being accorded the same rights that they enjoyed! When I was verbally abused by racists, their own law enforcement kept them from doing any more harm. True, the abuser was not arrested, but that was because he had as much right to speak his mind as any member of his race did. The same freedom which nearly led to the death of the Turqin Empire was a cherished right among the Human. One of their philosophers from their far more barbaric (yes, it is true) past even said, "I might not agree with what you say, but I will fight to my dying breath your right to say it". Incredible!

*Winterborn*

“The most prudent course of action would be to abandon this area, and retreat to a location where reinforcements can be gathered. However, circumstances have rendered this impossible. The enemy ship has positioned herself, either by chance or by intent, directly in line of the vector-path we would need to take in order to escape this area by Gate travel.
“Nor can we speak with FLEETCOM remotely. In the contact with the enemy, our long-range communications array was disabled. Repairs have been deemed to be unfeasible. Also, the Skree ship seems to be equipped with some kind of jamming mechanism that is capable of blocking our transmissions even if we had a working signal broadcaster.
In the fighter bay, a dozen pilots—the last survivors of the 10th Fighter Squadron—concentrated on the words with a single thought on all of their minds. Let us hit them . . .
“With these facts in mind, we have made the decision to assault the enemy in the best means we can, with every weapon at our disposal.”
Four gunner's mates slapped their last round into its loading tube, switched it hot, then, as one, sprinted for their G-seats to strap in.

>>5037164
And that is why I do not fear the Human. I know that they, in all their strife, still value friendships, value love, value hope. It is why I know they will accept us as friends. It is why I advocate joining their Confederation and sharing our technologies. Because for all the suspicion they arouse, for all the fear they inspire, they also cultivate friendships. I see the human, as I do one of the children that I saw. She looked at me, the look in her eyes one my systems identified as fear and wonder- what a strange combination, don't you think? She stepped back for a moment, but only for a moment, and then, in a voice filled with that same fear and wonder, asked me, "Do you want to be my friend?"

Tell me, bretheren, how shall we answer?

=(END)=

*Winterborn*

“The abilities already shown by the enemy ship have made it clear that . . . any conventional attack would be futile. With this in mind, we have crafted a strategy which the senior bridge officers and myself believe will allow us to utterly and completely destroy the Skree attacker.”
It was inevitable. A massive, unruly, spirited cheer immediately rose from the throats of every man and woman aboard the Winterborn. They cried out their joy as one that they might be able to strike back at those who would crush them . . . and their gratitude that they had been given the chance.
Hearing, Alsace paused. Then he clicked the microphone back on and said:
“Don’t cheer yet.”
________________________________________

The first step was simple. Every fighter the Jager-class cruiser Winterborn carried was launched.
Wave after wave of Kukri interceptors shot into space. Then bombers, dozens of them. Then a swarm of Locusts, filling the space around the Winterborn in a protective sphere. Finally, the few remaining attack boats of the 10th squadron: sleek, powerful weapons platforms that could turn on a dime, crewed by the most elite pilots in the SolCore Navy.
The fighters formed up and began a flight plan directly toward the Skree cruiser, which sat motionless, deceptively placid.

*Winterborn*

They flew straight and unerring. To the man, not one of them altered their course by a meter. Arrowing in for their target, they surged forward like a silent and lethal tide.
Behind them, the Winterborn rose looming.
When they reached ten thousand kilometers away from the unmoving behemoth, she attacked, and the Winterborn began to move.
As a never-ending tide of Skree Lilim poured out into the inky space surrounding the attacking ship, and bands of intensely bright light slowly started to gather around her hull, the Winterborn jetted her engines to their full, overload-prone capacity. One second . . . two seconds . . . three . . . four . . . and then, quite suddenly, they cut out. She coasted forward on inertia alone, as her fighters flew ahead in a dark, seething mass.
Then, first one, then several attitudinal thrusters flared up, spotting the Winterborn's hull with sharp, piercing lights. Slowly, she angled forward, until finally she had reversed her direction: bridge, weapons, and bays backward; engines, cold and inactive, in front.
She had just reached her position when the Skree ship fired.
The flaming, unbelievably intense ball of blue and red flame appeared and lanced away in a barely perceptible instant. But the streaks of light decorating the sides of the ship didn’t disappear; they barely shortened while she launched another torpedo into the night, and then a third.

>>5037143

>>5037130 samefag here.

I want to make it perfectly clear that I do not want you to stop writing. By all means, continue.

It's just that the story is not short and sweet like the rest, and it's taking its damn time to get to the sweet part.

*Winterborn*

The Winterborn continued forward unwavering. Her fighters refused to flinch.
Forward, forward, forward—and the first of the plasma shots slammed into the crowd of fighters, liquefying five immediately and crippling ten more as it carved through their ranks.
The second torpedo hits seconds afterward, destroying another dozen fighters, including two of the 10th Squadron gunboats. Then the third shot, which claimed 8 fighters and six fully loaded spacebombers.
The scene was quiet for several heartbeats, then the Skree fired again.
________________________________________

“Blue One, this is Shooter One. Break, break.”
“Roger that, command! Breaking formation.” Major Huntington slapped his helmet happily, giving a whoop of joy and twirling his comm switch to the local channel with his other hand. “All units, abandon formation! Spread out and do what you can! Good hunting, boys. Tenth, you know what to do.”
The majority of the fighters and spaceplanes swept away from their tight grid formation, splitting off into space and forming up for attack runs on the Skree ship.
However, the remaining ten planes of the 10th Squadron kept their course locked, straight ahead.
With the five nuclear weapons silently coasting along beside them.

>>5037163
Report 8.13a - Logged by Lead Watcher Holil

The first is of a human tradition known locally as the "lottery" - a word which I cannot seem to properly translate into our language. Humans pay into an enormous drawing in which they have a one in six billion chance of winning the grand prize, a large sum of money. Now, any member of our species would immediately analyze the probability of success and disregard the "lottery" as a foolish waste of resources. However, nearly every human will buy into the "lottery" at some point in its life. Moreover, they will be genuinely saddened when they fail to win the prize. Perhaps even more surprising is the fact that the humans engaging in the "lottery" is fully aware of the staggering probabilities it is hoping to overcome. Such optimism would likely be seen as a sign of insanity among us, yet it is the norm for humans.

*Winterborn*

Commander Alsace stood unblinking, addressing the busy field-of-combat display without a word or a flinch.
Nobody spoke any warnings or status updates on the three incoming plasma torpedoes. He could see them as well as they could.
One last time he checked the numbers on the small data pad lying next to his seat. If the timing on the attack wasn’t perfect . . . if they didn’t reach the enemy at precisely the right moment after the 10th Squadron fighters did . . .
Then he shook his head to clear it and strapped himself into his chair for the high-G maneuvers. Strongly, he called, “Lieutenant Swift, the controls are yours.”
Technically, weapons were always under the direct control of the senior weps officer. But Deville said nothing. The Kinetic guns were no longer weapons now; they were navigational tools.
The torpedoes flashed on the screen—collision alarms warbled from the computer—
—and Swift slammed her finger down on a control, as the ship exploded.

*Winterborn*

Huntington turned his gaze away reluctantly from the alien cruiser that had been growing on his screen when he saw the flash with his peripheral vision. With quick fingers, he brought his nav screen up to show the view from his plane’s rear camera.
It appeared just in time to show the Winterborn emit another blinding flash of light, and stumble forward like an avalanche. It looked slow, but Huntington knew how accurate that was—at these distances, she would need to be moving at hundreds of kilometers an hour to appear to be moving so quickly on his screen.
A third time she jumped, and Huntington at last saw what was happening.
She was firing her Kinetic cannon straight down the axis of her flight, directly behind her. Her recoil was smashing her forward with incredible power.
Spitting blood, Alsace swore as loudly as he could. Bridge discipline scarcely mattered at this point. “Talk to me!”
“The gun’s ruined, Cap’n.” Deville said breathlessly. He sounded strained. Broken rib, maybe. “Stress was too much. I knew it wouldn’t last long. The damn thing isn’t made to fire more than one shell at a time—and taking the dampeners off-line surely didn’t help.”

*Winterborn*

“Commander!” Lieutenant Donahue gave a startled cry. “That last one wasn’t enough, sir! Plasma compensating—it’s correcting its course!”
“Brace for imp—”
The torpedo burrowed into the Winterborn head-on, with enough kinetic energy to rock the entire ship.
But Alsace knew that the concave rear “bell” of a Jager-class cruiser UN-SolCore combat vessel was by far the strongest point. Hardened under laser furnaces, dozens of meters thick, and coated in a meter-thick layer of reflective iridium, the surface of the ship that was designed to focus the energies of the main engines could take an enormous beating.
“Burning through . . . inner hull pierced, sir. Plasma is dying out.”
The evacuation of all personnel and purging of the atmosphere in every one of the fifty lower decks had taken surprisingly little time, once the crew members there had learned what was going to happen.
________________________________________

“Taking fire, sir! We’re hit! We–”
Huntington cursed venomously. He didn’t have to wonder why his wingman had suddenly cut off his transmission; the windows of his jet provided ample room to view the sudden eruption of space-borne destruction.
Another flickering light snapped through space, and the gunboat flying left guard disappeared in a conflagration that caused Huntington to jump in surprise.
He swore again, and hit his comm.

*Winterborn*

“Blair, the fighters are taking fire!” Donahue stabbed a finger at the main screen. Two of the green lights signifying the boats of the 10th Squadron had winked out. As Alsace watched, another followed.
“Looks like the ‘Skree figured it out. They’re picking them off with laser fire.”
Alsace breathed through his nose, emotionless. “Have we lost any nukes yet?”
“No, sir.”
Another light blinked out.
________________________________________

Silently watching his viewports, Major Huntington refused to wince as yet another of his squadron mates died in a blaze of heat and fuel.
Locking his stick on autopilot, he released the controls and reached into his flight vest.
Removing a cigar, he took the time to light it and exhale slowly; looking upward at his canopy and marveling at how many hundreds of regulations he must be breaking.
Without looking down, he reached out for his comms mike and keyed it on. Softly, he said into it:
“Hold course.”
________________________________________

“Sir, they’re getting close to the trigger point. Should I tell the Kukris and the others to break off?” Perkins, Alsace observed, was having an attack of conscience.
“You know better than that, Don,” Alsace said quietly. “If that bastard's close-in guns aren’t occupied, she’ll fry the 10th in a heartbeat.
He watched as Perkins rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
Then another light blinked out, and he vomited on the flight deck.

*Winterborn*

It was only when the fifth of his men had died that Huntington found the strength to look out his viewport and wonder that he was still alive.
“Distance, Sarah?” he asked gently.
His headset crackled with the reply. “200,“ his weapons officer told him.
“Right.”
Moving deliberately, Huntington moved his hand up to his console and touched keys until he had selected a no-security broadcast mode.
Then, eyes dead, he stared straight ahead and activated his headset mike.
“Heads up, you son of a bitch,” he said. “This is from the Tenth.”
________________________________________

“The activation point’s approaching,” said Lieutenant Swift.
Alsace turned to look at Deville. He nodded back, “Ready to send.”
Keeping his eyes on the main monitor, Alsace squeezed his fists until he cut into himself.
“Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . ”
“Forgive me,” Alsace said under his breath.
“Activate.”
Deville tapped a single key, and five 20-megaton tactical nuclear weapons detonated simultaneously.
The Winterborn rocked only the tiniest bit to salute the passing of enough matter to raze a moon, and seven of the bravest men in the race.
________________________________________

The Skree's shields staggered and flared orange.

*Winterborn*

Dimly, Alsace could hear Perkins bellowing into a microphone—“Abort, abort! Wave off your shit and get clear! All fighters, abort attack and clear area!”
Only the handful of spaceplanes that had been distant enough to survive the blast heard him, and swooped away.
“Distance closing,” Donahue told him, voice quivering only slightly—making an effort, in the end, to maintain the calm he had always kept before. “Collision . . . imminent.”
*I should say something to the crew.*
Alsace lifted one finger, even touched the intercom button, but . . . then lowered it again, and moved to switch it off. There was nothing to say.
Then he frowned, and forced himself past the fog that was cluttering his ears to hear what was coming through the bridge speakers—coming from the other end of the intercom. From the crew.
Singing.

"…Dry your eyes and quietly bear this pain with pride
For heaven shall remember the silent and the brave
And promise me they will never see, the fear within our eyes
We will give strength to those who still remain..."

*Winterborn*

Alsace closed his eyes, and behind the singing could hear Deville saying, “All five warheads ready . . . positioned? Roger that. Signal prepped . . . ready to initiate five seconds after contact . . . ”

"...And in the fury of this darkest hour
We will be your light
You've asked me for my sacrifice
And I am Winter born
Without denying, a faith is come
That I have never known
I hear the angels call my name
And I am Winter born…"

“Contact!”
“Light it up!”

As the Winterborn slammed down butt-first on the hull of the alien cruiser, her engines finally ignited.
Flashing yellow, red, purple, then snapping and flashing out of existence entirely, the enemy ship's shields sputtered and died.

"...Hold your head up high-for there is no greater love
Think of the faces of the people you defend
And promise me, they will never see the tears within our eyes
Although we are men, with mortal sins, angels never cry..."

“Firing.”
Deville touched the red fire button, and sent the signal to activate all five of the nuclear warheads that had been placed in the cracked drive chamber. In less than a millisecond, every one of the bombs received the command and pressed shut five tiny micro switches, deep in their hearts.
As they exploded, they funneled downward, the engine cone of the ship acting as a single, massive shaped charge, directing the brunt of the blast directly into the defenseless Skree cruiser.
________________________________________

The seven remaining Kukri fighters, the only survivors of the Battle of the Winterborn, activated their Gate drives as soon as they reached an adequate velocity, and returned to Earth with a tale of hope.

All done now. Sorry it's so long.

>>5037215

Report 8.13a - Logged by Lead Watcher Holil

The second example of the humans' overwhelming optimism is the widespread presence of "faith". I scarcely need to remind you that belief without evidence is something beaten out of our youngest hatchlings as soon as possible - yet the humans hold it as a trait to be admired and emulated. One human confessed to me that she felt that "everything would work out" during the near disaster at Yushan VII, when the human task force sent to destroy the local militia was surrounded and nearly decimated. At the time of the observation, I recall that the human and I were under fire in a burnt out warehouse. I was incredulous at her suggestion and reported my disbelief to her - and Ishe admonished me for my lack of faith. I had no conception of what faith really meant to the humans until that moment. Despite the probability of our deaths in that warehouse, the human was fantastically calm. An hour later, our attackers were dead or fleeing, and I was on my way back to outpost Gold VII to write my third report on the humans.

Some have said that the greatest strength of the humans is their tenacity and willingness to fight, but I disagree - the true source of the humans' ability is their ability to divorce their expectations from their realities.

>>5037305

It was a nice read. Thank you.

>>5037305
it was a good read

>>5037305
MANLY TEARS WERE SHED

Greetings and good daybreak, future warriors of Tund. Your punctuality and energy honor your clans... though it appears that some of us--I'm looking at you, third seat from the right, back row--honor our clans more than the rest of us.
First seat on the left, front row: what is the standard punishment for entering rest cycle in class? Sixteen laps around the complex, isn't it? ...No, don't bother to look it up; it appears I have gotten our friend in the back's attention.

Everyone ready, then? Good.

If you'll recall, brave warriors, yesterday, we finished the section of our books covering the Mining Tribes of the distant Tristar system. Today, we enter section twenty-seven of our study into the alien species of our native galaxy, covering possibly one of the most persistently dangerous organisms we have encountered: the Bipeds of the Sixth Spiral Arm, colloquially referred to as Humans.

Now, before we begin today's instruction, I decided that it would be more informative if I were to share a personal anecdote on my own encounters with this species, so as to hopefully give you a proper frame of reference to work with during our discussion. After all, as many of our greatest warriors have pointed out, pictscreens describe an enemy's physical capabilities, but rarely do justice to their spirit. You would do well to remember that, young heroes. Particularly in this case.

When I first encountered Humans, I was merely a Lord's Guard, a scant ten cycles older than you yourselves. As my father was bannerman to the Lord of the Fourteenth Sector, I was assigned to guard his lordship's lesser offspring: Lord Fourthson, master of a small conquest and exploration fleet.

>>5037364
We were not the first to encounter Humans; their diplomats had been coming in and out of the courts of our lords for almost six cycles by then. However, we were the first to do battle with them. The Lord of the Fourteenth was preparing for another invasion of his enemies in the Eleventh Sector, and he needed a staging area for his raider fleets, so they could be repaired after raids on the Eleventh's trade routes.

The Lord picked a star system on the edge of the Sixth Spiral Arm, just outside of Eleventh Sector. It was part of territory owned by the Humans, and as such few of the Eleventh Sector's patrol fleets ever came near the place. Unfortunately, one of the system's six rock worlds had been claimed by a small group of human miners, who zealously patrolled the system's edges with their tiny fighter ships and slow cargo craft. But this tiny base was also convenient, as the Humans are able to breath our atmosphere, and their rocky dormitories and habitat domes would the be perfect start for a cheap, disposable repair station. And the six thousand bipeds living in them would make perfectly acceptable slave labor.

As such, we were sent in. Our fleet wiped out their space defenses in a matter of seconds. We shuttled down to the planet, two full squads, some two hundred warriors each. In minutes we'd wiped out their organized defenses. Within four hours, we had wiped out or incapacitated the last of their armor-clad soldiers.

Lord Fourthson had the Human colonists brought to their central square, and challenged their military leader to personal combat. The Human leader--a "captain," I believe was called--was half his size, a quarter his strength, and bruised and bloodied from his capture two hours previous. Nevertheless, he stood his ground like a warrior, and accepted the challenge without screams or begging, or tears from the glands around his bulbous eyes, with their wide black spots surrounded by thin blue rings.

>>5037366
The fight lasted less than a minute. The Human's battle strategy was somewhat less than honorable; he stabbed at the Lord's unprotected face, and attempted to make the Lord lose his footing, rather than assaulting the arms and torso, as is proper in an honorable duel. And during Lord Fourthson's second charge, he even released acrid-scented waste into his pants, as if to drive the Lord away by sheer smell. Nevertheless, after the fight was over, and Lord Fourthson had planted his spear in the Human's torso, the Lord honored him with the Ritual Death of the Defeated Warrior, and removed one each of the creature's blood cleaning, breathing, and seeing organs, before covering himself in the human's blood, and placing him in one of the cross-marked land vehicles they use to transport the dying or dead. Afterward, as is tradition, Lord Fourthson declared the human's mate to be his, ordered her to be taken to the Anatomist for study, and ordered his civics masters to put the new slaves to work.

A scant quarter of a cycle later, they retaliated.

>>5037367

The new slaves had seemed fairly docile so far; few of them attempted to starve themselves, or outright tried to sabotage their own machines, and the few riots that occurred post-capture were easily put down by a few warriors with bladed weapons.

As such, the Lord allowed them to communicate with each other freely, to wear the synthetic hides they use to keep themselves warm, and to visit their young once a day.

As such, it came as a surprise when work suddenly ceased, and the master communication processor blasted out loud, angry reports from the civics masters. The slaves had ceased their labors, and were fighting back, using their tools and stolen weapons to assault our patrolling warriors. And though even ten such bipeds would hardly be a match for a single armored warrior, many of the squads were already reporting casualties. The Humans, they said, were picking at them with ranged weapons, and then retreating into the nooks and crannies of their station, where they could use the tight spaces to overpower our warriors.

>>5037374

The Lord ordered retaliation. A squad of warriors descended on the chamber in which their young were kept, only to find the warehouse abandoned, their guards mutilated almost beyond recognition. Another squad reported they were locked out of the security system, and that the colony's turrets, once under our control, were even now firing on our soldiers. A third squad chimed in, reporting that the barracks had been gassed, and Humans in atmosphere suits were raiding our armory. A fourth reported sighting armored ground transports closing in on the Palace (their former capital building), and that our own vehicles had been sabotaged, and emptied of fuel and ammo.

Another channel opened on the master communication processor--this time from the Lord's cousin, the master of the spacefleet. Several of the ships that had put in for repairs were suddenly reporting massive explosions ripping through their hulls, taking out engines, weapon systems, and life support. The casualties were astronomical. What's more, a few of the smaller ships were behaving strangely, and were either returning to the surface without orders, or had begun firing on their fellows.

>>5037376

Weasponsfire echoed through the Palace. Lord Fourthson roared for his armor. A guard charged for the chamber door. It exploded, flying off its hinges, and embedding a large chunk of metal into the charging guard's head.

And there, at the doorway, stood the captain. He held a human firearm in one hand, and a broken lance in the other, its tip dripping with a warrior's blood. He glared at Lord Fourthson with mismatched eyes; one blue, the other brown.

Later, I learned from our Anatomists that a peculiar quirk of Human biology allows some members of their species to share or trade blood, tissue, and even organs without problem. That unlike our bodies, which automatically reject outside objects inserted into them, humans could take bits of other humans and stick them in themselves, to replace parts that are missing or damaged. That, in fact, instead of allowing the honorable dead to be sent into the afterlife whole, human Anatomists frequently take bits of dying or deceased Humans and put them into other Humans to keep those others alive. And that this sort of action is looked upon as noble and selfless, rather than disgusting and cannibalistic.

But it was not his eyes that were the most surprising. It was the words that came out of his mouth.

"Where's. My. Wife."

>>5037381
There you go, guys. Nice and new. Just finished it three minutes ago. Hope you enjoy.

Report 8.13b - Logged by Lead Watcher Holil

I confess that I am fascinated by human culture. They are so alien that I often find myself unable to comprehend their ways of thinking. For example, the humans do not have castes. Oh yes, their race is quite stratified in (in my opinion) incomprehensible ways. However, the arc of the human's life is entirely like the arc of our lives. Our race values excellence - to that end, every hatchling is brought up from the moment of birth to be superb in a single field. Our artisans are brought up surrounded by architectural programs, our farmers are brought up in our agricultural centers, our soldiers in a barracks, and so on. I repeat what every Thulian knows only to demonstrate how bizzarre the humans are by contrast. On human worlds, every hatchling is educated in the same manner, on the same subjects. When they reach maturity, humans are given a choice as to what they pursue, and even then they frequently develop numerous skills to satisfy their cravings for the novel. My last report focused soley on the presence of bizzarre optimism in human culture. A similar phenomenon exists here: humans treasure the belief that they can achieve any status simply by working hard. Perhaps more importantly, humans prepared from a young age to take up any challenge.

As a Watcher, I am utterly unprepared for combat. If I were of the Warrior class, I would be unable to perform the basic duties that keep the Collective running smoothly, and if I were a Worker, I would be unprepared to glean truths from observing the universe. Yet humans are expected to be able to perform all three functions.

In the long and painful days since the Centric war and our exodus across the galaxy, many have attempted to explain how the humans were able to defeat us so thoroughly despite our advantages in number and technology. The flaw in these explanations stems from the fact that they were written by scholars, not by soldiers. Only a soldier could ever understand the humans' view of the world. As an overseer of our infantry forces during the later stages of the war I began to understand them, and what I came to realise was impressive and horrifying in equal measure.

Humanity is a race built for victory. Many of you will not understand what I mean by that. You think victory is merely a by product of war, and you think of war in our terms; as a beautiful, elegant thing conducted in the manner proscribed by our laws of combat; a subtle interplay of forces advanced and withdrawn, of new technology announced to the enemy and brought to the fore, and of champions who decide the fate of many through their skill at arms.

>>5037482

Humans do not care for war. In fact they abhor it. What they value is victory, and they will do many things they abhor in order to achieve that victory. While fighting in the Ejoch offensive (after which I was given an honourable retirement and began a long course of treatment for various mental traumas) I saw humans arm their family and loved ones, knowing that they would die but willing to watch it happen just to add a little more firepower to their defences. I fought human soldiers who had twisted and perverted their bodies with genetic shaping, or carved out their flesh to replace it with superior, mechanical components. I hid, in terror and shock, as a human bent over the corpse of my champion and ripped out one of his mandibles, not out of a sense of respect for his fallen foe but so that he could hang it around his neck and thereby scare our men.

You want to know why the humans defeated us? It is because we think of the road before us, and they think only of the destination. Now we face the choice of either being consigned to the void between the stars, or giving up all that we are in the name of victory. Truly these humans are more terrible foes than most of you can imagine, because to defeat them you must become them, and they win either way.

>>5037397

Report 8.13b - Logged by Lead Watcher Holil

I ask you to recall the Battle of Gorgias. I was sent there to observe the humans in their defense of a colony. As you may remember from your schooling, the Yushanese raided Gorgias in retaliation for the human's raid of the Reliant Shipyards. The battle was going as expected until the Yushanese entered the city limits of Gorgias and began to slaughter all those who resisted, as is expected by an advancing army. However, this only seemed to make the humans resist more fiercely. I watched, shocked, as Workers and Watchers alike took up arms to defend their home. Though the human Warrior force had been estimated to be around 3000 soldiers, the true number was the population of the colony, some 5.98 million warriors ready to die for humanity. The Yushanese quickly recognized that they were outnumbered when a group of captured Workers seized weapons and broke free from the Yushanese camps despite having almost know military training. Seeing the futility of their attack, they retreated and the Human - Yushanese eventually moved out of the Gorgias system as the humans continued to press the Yushanese back to Yushan II.

I laugh now when I hear one of our leaders claim that our Warriors could defeat ten human Warriors for each Thulian Warrior felled in combat. Make it a hundred to one, it would make no difference. Every human is capable of taking up arms and becoming a Warrior, and the defense of a human colony is not over until the last human dies.

You <hunger/thirst> for me to speak to you of the <Truth>?

Know that the <People/Builders> do not speak of the <Truth>.

Know that the <Truth> is always in our <eyes/ears>.

Know that the <Truth> that can be spoken is not the <Truth>.

Know that the <Truth> is eternal.

Know that the <task/purpose> of the <People/Builders> is to <sculpt/build> the world that we see into the <Truth> that we <see/hear>.

Know that we fail.

>>5037502

Know that the <Others/Destroyers> are <deaf/blind> to the <Truth>.

Know that the <task/purpose> of the <Others/Destroyers> is to destroy their own.

Know that the <Others/Destroyers> destroy their own <brothers/sisters>.

Know that the <Others/Destroyers> destroy their own <teachers/heroes>.

Know that the <Others/Destroyers> destroy their own <laws/philosophies>.

Know that the <Others/Destroyers> destroy their own <arts/tools>.

Know that you fail.

EN ESPANOL!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJ0m8IEr664&feature=related

>>5037509

Know that that which the <Others/Destroyers> own has not been destroyed.

Know that that which the <Others/Destroyers> have <built/sculpted> will be destroyed.

Know that that which the <Others/Destroyers> are <building/sculpting> cannot be destroyed.

Know that the eternal cannot be destroyed.

Know that the <Truth> is eternal.

Know that I <hunger/thirst> for you to speak me of the <Truth>.

There was one really awesome post in one of these threads... I really wish I had saved it.

Basically it went on about how insane a whole slew of human behaviors are. Like purposefully consuming toxins for their psychotropic effects.

itt

yakh deculture

Report 8.13c - Logged by Lead Watcher Holil

Trying to study human culture is akin to trying to study a Uliogin painting - at a glance, there seems to be a single painting in front of you. However, as you look closer, you begin to see that the painting is made up of thousands of tiny pictures, one inside of another. Humans have a bizzarre concept they call "nation". I originally wished to translate the word to family, but I quickly found that "nation" meant something else entirely. A family is bonded by genetics, by Thulians coming together and reproducing. Humans have the family concept, but they have another level of identification between species and family, and that is "nation". A "nation" is a political entity that has been arbitralilly carved out of a segment of their population. It is, as far as I can tell, an extension of the tribal concept found in the Yushanese, but on a far larger scale. Members of the same nation might never know eachother, or even encounter eachother. "Nations" span thousands of miles and send their own representitives to the United Terran Alliance. They each have their own culture and traditions, extending far beyond the traits all humans share. Our ancestors wondered why the humans took so long to reach the stars and join the rest of the galaxy - the reason is "nations".

>>5037384
more please

>>5037538

And sprinkling mild neurotoxins on food to stimulate a response identical to pain 'for flavor?'

Because that's what spiciness is.

>>5037176
>Moar story

No, Great One, I do not fear the human. I merely think it unwise to simply ape the Gifted, the Rix, Ilthir and Katharians in joining their Confederation. True, it is illogical to assume that the common stereotype of the human being a a base creature, motivated only by sheer lust, whether for flesh or for blood, is tre. However, it IS logical to assume that all stereotypes have a basis in truth, and that leaving the Confederation would be beneficial, not just to us, but to the humans as well.

When the Katharians invaded and drove us out from Malkan, some of us decided to stay on, and fight the invaders. I and my clan were recruited by the humans as what they called 'military advisors'. Such was our first indication as to the duplicity inherent in this race. Though so similar in many ways, they chose conflict to resolve even the slightest differences! Even their name, 'Confederation', speaks of a system composed of equal, yet differing groups. Even during the Katharian Scourge, they made conflict upon themselves, daring each other to ever greater, ever more glorious, ever more foolhardy actions. Theirs was the largest battles, the greatest purges, the bloodiest executions- and this is a race we wish to call friend? Ally, yes, but friend? Never!

>>5037723
And...

After the battle, they helped the Katharians rebuild! Can you believe that?! How undeniably naive that was? It was only a stroke of luck that the Katharians did not betray them in a heartbeat! Look to our histories, see the rage and incomprehension that this move inspired among our people! And even as they were conqiuered, the Katharians were held in a state of limbo; they held neither the rights of a human, but neither were they enslaved! Instead, they were held in a torturous half-existence, neither here nor there, their place in society lost for gebnerations!

And what is the end result? Our conquerors are now conquered, the last shreds of their race forced to accept human rule- and more. For even now, their scientists, unhindered by neither morality or decency, strive to initiate breeding programs that would mix human and Katharian genes! This is human sexual voraciousness at its maddest, and they even look upon this mescegnation with favour!

Sender: Hri’Tae Bel
Recipient: Qor’Yop Eia
Subject: info req

Father of warriors, I find myself disturbed by your request for information on the race known as “humans”. From the tone of your message I get the impression that you seek to make war on this species. All of the information at my disposal indicates that such a course of action would be a grave mistake, with consequences far beyond the heavy military casualties that you would inevitably suffer. To understand why, you need only look at how they evolved. As I’m sure you know, our most glorious race evolved as a response to the threats of our homeworld; volcanic activity, toxin clouds, ash twists and suchlike. Life was hard, and for much of our history it was beyond our power to make it any easier. We could only keep moving and stay alive. Humans, on the other hand, had no such threats to contend with. Their world is a paradise, and such extremes of temperature as there are pose no serious threat to them. Instead the spur that drove them to evolve intelligence came from the violence and antipathy of other species.

>>5037773
From their earliest days they were hunted by predators possessed of a cunning and savagery that you cannot imagine. I have seen hol-caps of creatures they call “tigers” and “wolves”, and even many years later I still have nightmares about them. And those large, land-based animals are not the worst. Predators can be found everywhere on the human homeworld, in every form they could possibly take; tiny insects that carry toxins of terrible efficiency, avian hunters that drift on the wind and swoop down upon their prey with mighty talons, aquatic monsters whose bloodlust is unquenchable and who can track their target from miles away… in their early days humans were surrounded by such creatures. And what did they do? They fought. They waged war upon anything and everything that would do them harm, and they shaped their world into a form more pleasant to them. Great father of warriors, I beg you not to wage war against these humans. Their race was baptised in the blood of nightmares. Your warriors hold no terror for them.

>>5037733
It is not just the Katharians they are doing this to either- even now, humans eat away at the other races. The Rix, Ilthir, and even the inscrutable Gifted are slowly being assimilated, their unique characteristics now dissolving into a single, oppressive identity- that of being 'human'. They say they celebrate difference, but only insofar as that 'difference' is one their human minds can comprehend!

These fiends, having no true stomach for war, merely bloodshed, now seek to conquer us- but not as how we understand it, not with honour! They send not soldiers, but 'sociologists'. They send not tanks, but holorecorders. Though they say this is to research our cuture and find out more about us, they also presume themselves our equals, wearing our uniforms, addressing us by our titles, as if they were of our race! In presenting themselves as us, they also, insidiously, make us think that we are not so different after all.

>>5037796
Can you see the dangers in this? Can you see how this mode of thought turned our once worthy enemies the Katharians into nothing more than human puppets? Even now, at their race's most important celebrations, you can see Gifted AIs, Ilthir in pressure suits, Rix mentalists and of course Katharian spouses all mingling together in what the human propaganda mill calls 'harmony'. Me? I look from Gifted to Ilthir, from Rix to Kathar, from them to the humans, and I could not tell them apart.

Propaganda. There is another word I learned from humans. You see, the truly insidious thing about them is this- they are not brutal creatures. Oh, they are animalistic at heart, but apart from the Gifted, who isn't? A human would not kill an alien, or a member of their own race out of hand- unless they were told that their enemy was subhuman, was not worthy of their respect. I witnessed this so many years ago, when I accompanied the humans to war. Yes, to war. They called us advisors, but they had us fight. Not that my clan minded, but to deliberately, dishonourably mislead their foes by lying outeright about our status? We won victories, yes, but the stain made such victories hollow.

Guys, we need to get the first thread >>5030027 and this one archived.

>>5037808
And this ugliness is what we must avoid! Theirs is a people which would discriminate even amongst themselves on the basis of the colour of their skins! Even as some of them clamor for treating other races well, there are those- and not a small proportion at that- of their race which would like nothing more than to exteerminate us all. Their warriors number in the trillions- and they are all volunteers! They wish to come to alien worlds, to shed the blood of nonhumans! They seek to spread their 'freedoms' to the galaxy! Imagine that! Freedom to disprespect your Chieftains! Freedom to speak out against our honoured traditions! Freedom to denounce all that we cherish! And the humans would laugh as they watched us disintegrate too! One of their leaders in their unexpectedly more barbaric past once said, "If you have to kill a man, it doesn't hurt to be polite"! See what disregard they have for the sacred act of war? Of killing a worthy foe?

Analysis of the Terran biology leads to a startling conclusion: they are weak. Their bodies are frail, with the timid musculature structure of a domesticated species and no natural weapons to speak of. Their teeth are not sharp, they have no horns or neurotoxins to control prey. They even lack padding defenses against the elements such as fur or a carapace. But they are the apex predator of their home planet in all biomes, as well as on other planets where they have founded colonies as an invasive species.

In fact, this very weakness seems to be the source of their power. Lacking natural means of protecting themselves, they are forced to adapt through inventiveness and cannibalism. They don weapons and carapace of other species, or manufacture similar equipment out of their environs. When this is not enough, they modify the actual biome itself.

That is what makes them so terrible. Their impulses to master that which is not natural to them, and overcome with dogged pursuit.

One would never have thought small, ill-adapted ambush predators like Terrans would pose a threat of this magnitude. I am convinced that only small, ill-adapted ambush predators like Terrans could pose a threat of this magnitude.

>>5037817
Ample reasons to fear the humans, I know, but- here's the things. The reason for all this strife? It is because the humans value loneliness. Forced apart from each other by differences present even in the closest families, they seek to take their frustrations out on the galaxy, to force a stagnant unity, a grotesque parody of how other races evolved. That is why I advocate opur leaving their Confederation, as is our right, why I oppose sharing our hard-won technology. For all the happiness and camaraderie they arouse, they sow fear and suspicion. I see the human as I do one of their soldiers. We had cut off the supply lines of of a Katharian army, in itself a shameful way to wage war, and furthermore, we did not attack immediately, as is custom for an ambush, but waited for the Katharians to starve. Some of my clan left to join another in protest, and it was only my position as Chieftan that stayed my feet. I once met with the human commander, watched him read the daily reports of the starving Katharians with unmistakeable relish. He looked at me, the night before we launched a massacre of a starving, dying army, and said, "We'll kill 'em all, and let God sort them out."

Tell me, Great One, how will their God sort US out?

=(THE END, FO' SHO')=

>>5037813

Already done, check suptg.

>>5037813
Go to sup/tg/ do it yourself

I have to wake up in 3 hours but this is all too great to pass up.

>>5037823
>>5037847

sorry, I mean 4chanarchive..

looks like the first one was already done.

75%+ water planet.
Nitrous, O2,CO2 gases
Self-titled "human" race.
Technology level: fossil based machinery. Binary based Calculators. Few instances of fission based technology.
Recommendation: "Let the humans' self-culling take care of itself. Introduction of new techonolgy would just be injecting [gasoline] into the [fire]."
Petition for humans to be entered onto the protected endangered races index was declined.
Petition for humans to be entered onto dangerous races index was granted. On basis of humans' long lived lives and adaptability. (Currently, one human exists for 3 [of our lifetimes.])
Boundary set to 13 parasecs.

The Ger’Nih war, it was not going as well as expected. Oh we would have won, no doubt about that, but the margin of victory? The cost in haxl lives? Too close and too high, no politician would have been able to justify it at home world. Not in hindsight, and as is far too often hindsight is all that matters. To make matters worse, we were already engaged and falling back would leave us open for Ger’Nih counter attack. No we needed an edge, a secret weapon or some master stroke of tactics, or a miracle. The problem was, as is often the case, that we found one. The third planet of the Sol system, which was located at conveniently near the Ger’Nih territory, was inhabited by a level two species, not even capable of travel outside of its solar system yet. But they were plentiful, and their hands where close enough to ours to operate our machinery and weapons. They where strong, if prone to tiring out after only a few hours of exertion (a product of their inferior repertory system). But as said they were plentiful and we needed the bodies, after all, AI has always proved unreliable in enemy territory, to easy to reprogram. So first contact was made and before we knew it we had human auxiliaries on the front line. We sent them guns, and ships, and stationed a shipyard in orbit.

>>5037948
The first sign of our mistake came less than 40 solar cycles later. They sent US guns, better than the ones we sent them. More power output, less mass, more resilient. To put this into perspective, when we made first contact they were still using chemical compounds to accelerate their projectile weapons, and now they are sending us superior weaponry. In 60 cycles after contact human ships where the finest in the armada. In less than 100 cycles, half the projected timeline, the Ger’Nih were forcibly inducted into the Great Haxl Empire. By the time 500 cycles had passed the humans had spread into most of our colonies, as welcome guests. We were naïve. By the time the High Command ran its first human projection simulation it was too late. If it where to come to conflict between the humans and the Great Haxl Empire, even if we put it all on the line, we would lose. We had already lost. Tomorrow the first human high councilor will begin his duties. I fear that before long I will be a scribe for the Great Human Empire.

>>5037887
4chanarchive is for faggots, real fat guys use sup/tg/

>>5037305
If I had any artistic skill, I would be drawing up a scene from that in photoshop at this very moment. Thanks for the enjoyable read, Anon.

bump for more writefagotry

The human race has aparently stoped being awesome, guess we needed more than an extra feet to pull it off

If this thread is still going come tomorrow night, I'll post more. I just did a 12 hour day, though, so I'm headed to bed.

*Winterborn* write fag, btw.

Great reads

needs more pictures
pic related, fearsome human warrior

/r/ failed me, anyone got the motivational with the starcraft2 space marine and the rambling about mankind being machines running on starshipfuel, producing designerdrugs and excreting chemical badassery?

also: Bump for great justive, I want moar of the above shit.

Holy crap, my thread lives?

>>5039061
it liveth

>>5039051
second that, it was OP of the predecessor to this thread, but that one 404ed in the meantime -.-'

A 40k one while you wait.

Okay, so I cheated.
After failing to find it on my harddrive, I stole it from last night's thread on sup/tg/.
Also, if this thread is still alive in an hour or two, I will post some writefaggotry.

Of all the races in the galaxy only humans do not see and do not sail. This is why we did not encounter them until recently.

Of all the races in the galaxy only humans do not see and do not sail. When they journey the void the do so in great ships of living earth, powered by the fury of the stars

Of all the races in the galaxy only humans do not see and do not sail. It is this that has fueled their magics.

Of all the races in the galaxy only humans do not see and do not sail. When we come to disagreement or want one group simply moves on. When humans come to a disagreement it must be settled and one side must lose. When humans have wants they must take or create that which they want.

Of all the races in the galaxy only humans do not see and do not sail. A well shot arrow from a well made bow is enough to slay almost any beast. Only humans have taken weaponry further, only humans have magic that allows one to slay many with ease.

Of all the races in the galaxy only humans do not see and do not sail.

op here lol sup nigga´z check out 4chen's new adresss: www.anonloltalk.com (remove lol)

> dmso

I had to re-read your request three times to make sure I understood it correctly. The foolishness of it all makes me wonder what manners of chemicals have been released in your local water supply. But it is not my duty to judge the recreational habits of others, and as you carry the recommendations of several high-ranking figures, I will oblige.

You want to attack the humans, and wish to know what strategies worked against them in the Frontier Wars, and how we kept them pacified during the Krill campaign.

First of all, what you call the Frontier Wars is not a war. It is the normal state of affairs in the systems on the border we share with the humans. Yes, there are various territorial conflicts going on there. Official maps change almost weekly. They raid our colonies almost weekly. Thing is, this is the exact same thing they do to each other. Being violent and warlike is just their nature. Our colonists have adapted to that, and we raid them almost as much as they raid us. It is not a war - it's just the way things are. They don't hate us, we don't hate them. They treat us the same way they treat each other, and we are honoured by it. No other race has accepted us as their equals as easily as the humans did.

>>5039480
Now, the Krill campaign. Those damn insects thought that since we were busy dealing with the humans, we couldn't fight back against them effectively. Bastards glassed one of our worlds, and sent a large fleet to do the same thing to our homeworld. This backfired spectacularly once the humans heard what was going on. Humans don't like seeing worlds get glassed. They're one of the few species that has used nukes against each other, and that has left a huge scar in their society. As soon as the word got out, all raiding on the border worlds stopped. Not a single shot was fired there during the war. They even sent a war fleet, crewed entirely by volunteers, to help us. Which, I might add, was significantly larger than the Senatorial peacekeeping force which arrived too late to take part in the action.

After the Krill had surrendered and their homeworlds were placed under the watchful eye of the Senatorial forces, it only took a week before the humans started raiding again like nothing had happened. It was a somewhat surreal experience to see the same warships that had just fought for our sake attacking our transports and taking hostages, but that's just the way the humans are.

In conclusion, we did not "pacify" the humans. The cease-fire was all their doing. We have not fought a war against the humans, and we hope we never have to. The only "strategy" we have found useful when dealing with them is treating them as equals.

One last thing. Every single one of our soldiers remembers how the humans helped us in our time of need. We remember how they asked nothing in return. We remember how you sent no help, and how you stalled the dispatching of Senatorial forces to deal with "such a minor infraction".

If you go against my recommendations and wage war on the humans, guess whose side we will be on?

Katharian.

Ocean Ph Levels are dropping because of the sheer amount of CO2 being absorbed by the ocean, killing the basic plankton, mollusks, crustaceans and other life needed to make up the basic food chain of the ocean ecology. This is leading to a mass wildlife extinction that will culminate in the extermination of 90% of sealife by 2050, an extinction so large that it has not been seen in a quarter billion years. Hundreds of millions of people will starve as coastal cities collapse, and corporate farms will turn fertile farmsoil into desert using farming techniques that have been known to cause desertification since the "fertile crescent" of Mesopotamia turned barren centuries ago,except amplified by industrial tools. Humankind is turning the oceans to acid and the farmland into desert. God Bless the Free Market. Have fun while you can, we're the last generation and when we die Earth will be as barren as Venus.

>>5039873
Cool story, bro.

>>5039914
Yeah, I'm takin a plane to Jupiter as soon as I get the money, fuck this planet

Let me add sage.

>>5040013
I counter with bump

"Farseer, we have investigated this world, as you asked."

"And your findings?"

"It is inhabited by a frail, bipedal species. They look similar to ourselves, but their DNA is simplified and their bodies less efficient. Their minds are limited and they are non-telepathic."

"Do they have redeeming traits?"

"Yes. For one thing, they are highly prone to war. But where we the Eldar and our brethren, the Orks, fight for the sake of combat, humans fight for material gain, out of fear, and for something they call 'honour.'"

"Interesting. What is their method of waging war? What are their motivations? And what is honour?"

"They fight with suicidal determination. They will gladly give up their lives for the sake of something greater, whether from the myriad imaginary gods of their culture, or for their home nation, or for a loved one. And they will fight each other for even the smallest offense."

"Similar to the Orks, then. I like where this is going. Continue, ranger."

"Their motivation ranges greatly. Where we, the Craftworld Eldar, are motivated by the desire for perfection and the benefit of the species, the desires of humans vary greatly. Some seek power, some seek recognition, some seek benefit for their fellow humans. Invariably, the more greedy and unstable humans rise to the top of their civilization."

"An easily manipulated species, then. We shall spare their world. We shall not terraform it. They may be of use to the Craftworld later. One last thing. This concept of 'honour'... what is it?"

"I can not say, Farseer. It is difficult to comprehend. I asked many humans - over their "Internet," of course, where I could not be identified as non-human - and it varies greatly. No explanation they have given makes sense."

"Very well. Return to the Webway; there is no more need for you to watch their planet."

>>5039924

...you know Jupiter is a gas giant, right?

>>5040602
but it has many moons that with some effort can be pretty hospitable

>>5040602

It's core is solid ice, I think...

>>5038468
I agree, moar pictures NAOW!

>>5040663
More rock, really. At least that's what I've heard.

>>5040663
It's solidified alcohol.

How long until first mining ship lands there?

And now for something compl... I mean, on topic.

"I do not understand their importance."
"Of course you do not. That is not your purpose. Yours is to overpower, destroy and eliminate. If you were created with any other purpose you would not be able to do this with equal efficiency."
"I understand my purpose. I still do not understand theirs."
"It is not yours to understand such things. Theirs is the future. They are potential. The code that makes up these Terrans can, with only the barest minimum of genetic coaxing, acquire great power. It is with this great power I shall be able to bring the swarm to bare on our sibling race. Which I learned of long ago."
"So they are to become warriors for the broods? Warriors for me to field in battle?"
"Not just warriors. But tacticians and leaders."
"But there are already strains that fulfill those roles."
"Indeed. But the Terrans hold a dormant power unlike anything currently in the swarm. I see a future in which you, the others like you and even myself have been replaced. It is this future in which we shall achieve our ultimate goal in this universe."
"And what is our ultimate goal?"
"It is not your purpose to understand such things. With the assimilation of the Terrans into our repitior, we shall become one step closer to confronting our ancient enemies. One step closer to victory. And one step closer to perfection."
"Very well."
"Go now, cerebrate. Lie in wait for the moment. Sheer force is not the path to follow at first. Something more subtle is in order."

>>5040944
Astronaut cancels Dig: interrupted by skeletal space elephant.

Archived, you bunch of wanks. Hope ye happy!

>>http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/5035774/

Previous thread, archived.

>>http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/5030027/

ITT: People try to use fancy words to make it seem like they are good writers.

But they aren't.

>>5039493
I like this one. Humans superior in terms of innovation, research, and design. Humans = Spess dorfs.
>>5037954
And this one is just awesome. I don't find the constant, unreasoning raids mentioned to be particularly believable simply because it seems so unreasonable. (Let's go attack these dudes just because!)
On the other hand, I love the story, and that ending kicks ass.

>>5041333

Pssh. Winterborn could probably make it's way into any amateur sci-fi magazine without appreciable effort. And much of the rest is amusing, at the very least.

blump

blimp

Here's an idea:

aliens vs human war, aliens have all the fancy and superior tech, railguns or energy weapons and personal shields, but they somehow never really got the idea that detonating mini-suns in the atmosphere killing millions and rendering the planet almost useless for further development is a viable military tactic.

>>5042400
aka they use conventional weaponry, but we have the WOMD?

>>5041515
I think MechaMilk's 'mirror' concept was kinda cool (story starts >>5037144), though the execution would need work.

>>5039812
No, this is a Katharian, even has a human mate like some of the ones in the story.

Winterborn writefag here. Once again, written a while back for a freewrite in college.

I sip luxuriously at the brandy. Twelve years. Incredible stuff. It feels like liquid mercury on my tongue.
Across the table from me, Sophie gives me another one of those smiles. My heart jumps, just a little bit. I take one last bite of the meal—a tender, delicious veal in a sauce so rich I can hardly contemplate it—and set my fork down. The table's internal mechanism clears the dishes, silent and efficient, before giving us a few more napkins and the rest of the snifter of brandy.
Taking another taste of the liquor, Sophie stops in mid-swallow, and looks at me over the top of the crystal glass. Her lovely brown eyes, rimmed with gray, glisten in the flickering candlelight. Suddenly, she lets out a musical, bell-clear laugh, throws her tresses of downy soft hair to one side, and sets down the glass. Rising from her seat, she offers me two fingers of one hand. I take them, and stand, too.
The muted light of the room hangs around us in a shroud as, laughing, she leads me through the door and into the bedroom.

>>5043239

Darkness. Paxor, the second moon, is just beginning to rise, and will have crested and begun to set in another hour. Its silvery cast slants through the window in shining sheets, twice as bright as any moon on Earth has ever been.
Trying not to upset Sophie, whose still, warm form lies curled next to me on the bed, I slip out from the covers. The air is cool but not cold, the house's environmental controls keeping in time with the harsh Lancing IV winter—leaves are freezing off the trees.
I pad gently to the door and enter the bathroom. A wave through an airborne holo-sensor switches on the hovering ceiling light just a touch; like the walls had suddenly turned to milky starlight. I relieve myself, then find a cup and clumsily fill it from the wall pipette.
Walking out the other door slowly, I drift into the front of the house. The walls, covered in Neo-Lunar art, press close against me as I walk into the entryway. Still grasping the cup, I drink, leaning against the reinforced p-wood of the walls.
Something stops me.
I lower the cup uncertainly. A noise? The darkness is silent. Nothing moves. The shadows, motionless, mock me.

>>5043252

But again, and this time I am ready—a tiny tapping sound, barely there, so quiet that an instant after acknowledging it my ears dismiss it and wash it away in mental noise. But it remains, a ticking, clicking, deep in the depths of the house.
Tick.
Tick.
Ticktickickick.
Crrracck.
I jump, and my stomach leaps nearly into my throat. I barely manage to keep from dropping the earthenware mug.
Wood? Cracking? There was no wood in this home; it freezes too easily against the bitter chills of the winter. Only the standard plastic-wood derivatives, so common throughout the colony—and nothing can break that, nothing normal. The only vermin that live in the area would blunt their beaks against it.
CrrraWHAM
I jolt my head back, panting.
I dash out the dregs of water and toss the mug to the ground; it bounces heavily on the soft carpet. In a moment, my wrist-comm is in my hand, and I am tapping at the emergency key.

>>5043265

But nothing happens. The tiny auto-repeater light, meant to give the handshake after passing its message to the town beacon, fails to ignite. My mind a storm, I find the voice-axe switch and bring the little transponder to my lips. "Hello? Hello? Emergency?"
But, as soon as I release the switch, a blast of random noise swarms out, incredibly loud in the voiceless building. I crush my thumb down on the key again, silencing it. Then, frustrated, I close out the frequency and wing the comm to the ground after the mug.
Crreaak.
My heart misses a beat, and I start looking around desperately. This was built a standard-shell colony home. There are no automated defenses, no guard-rooms or quick-escapes. Hell, this is a Traxus-class colony—a peaceful planet. They screen incomers down to their blood type. Lancing hasn't has a deviant for more than a generation. Nobody ever planned for home defense.
But the noises are getting louder. I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again, wild.

>>5043276

I spin around, and run as quietly as I can into the multi-room. There is a traditional fireplace in the corner, pellet-burning. I dash up to it and unclip the long, hybrid-steel, ash-charred poker from the stand.
Then I stop, and realize what is on the wall above it. I drop the poker and reach up with both hands, tugging.
The ancient, two-foot, Damascus-forged cavalry short-blade comes off with a jerk. Jade handles and an engraved blade, a relic of Old Earth. It is only one of the numerous heirlooms that Sophie's family keeps sending away to their wayward children; no doubt they thought we would need the protection, far from Earth and in such ever-present danger.
We laugh about it often. I'm not laughing now.
Handling it gently, I slip the edge out of the sheath. The intertwined curves of the metal glint and flow in the darkness, catching droplets of light and throwing them through its maze of lines. I drop the leather scabbard to the ground.

>>5043286

The noises are getting continuous, and I can hear where, now. Softly, I move forward, holding the blade close to my chest.
I turn the corner, and see the door.
Small divots have been blown into the surface, tiny tunnels of splintered nothing. Frigid cold air washes through.
I stop for a moment. How could somebody be out there? Surely they would freeze. Already, from merely this, frost is congealing on the side of the sword.
But then a long, wickedly-sharp metal utensil—remembering my time as a laborer, it makes me think of a carving bit—slashes through one of the holes, tearing away more of the rock-hard artificial wood and ripping away another segment of the door.
What are they trying to accomplish? They can make as many holes as they want; the locking mechanism is on my wrist, not the door.
There is a savage jolt, a fist-sized chasm of wood disappearing, and I realize. The hinges.
I can see the stars through the space for an instant, before they disappear and something—something—gropes through.

>>5043300

Black. Blacker than the night. That is all I see first. Hard, scaly, reptilian skin, some kind of thick flesh—
not human not human oh god sweet holy moth—
I crash back forward into awareness after seeing the arm—the claw—reach out and touch the hinge array. I stumble forward, and lifting the sword high with both hands, bring it down with all my strength.
"ARRRRRGGH!"
I fall back, almost dropping the sword as I clasp at my ears. An insanely loud, reverberating bellow, like the scream of a jet engine—at first I think that the arm is broken, from the way it falls, but then it comes away entirely, and the stump withdraws; it is severed.
With an oozing clump, the limb falls to the ground. I stare at it, unbelieving.
"BRAHHH---!"
An absurd, baritone roar, a lion in the night, from barely a meter away, behind the door. Then it explodes.
Slashing a hail of ruined wood and molten sparks, the door crashes inwards, pelting me with slivers. I squeeze my eyes shut reflexively and manage to barely avoid being blinded. Tiny cuts seep all over me.

>>5043321

I stumble back, eyes still shut, waving the heavy sword in front of me convulsively, and that is what saves me.
I encounter resistance, but the edge of the blade digs through with relative ease. For an instant, there is an agonizing howl—cut off almost as soon as it reaches the air.
I open my eyes.
In front of me, a massive heap of... something. Dark and foreboding, it looks humanoid, but more lizard—or better yet, bird—than... In a flash, it comes to me.
The Skree.
A thousand, a million thoughts cartwheel through my head, but one things prevails—I see the creature before me, with one arm missing, and its head close to sawed off. They are mortal.
"Sad-uk, shirah, nala?"
Meters away, the sound is horrifyingly close. I have but a moment to think.
The moment flashes past. The alien looms into sight.
My eyes go blotchy, and my ears pound, and I leap forward, fearless as a soldier. From somewhere, a shout finds its way into my throat, and as the creature cries boomingly, so do I, and whirl the blade in a massive arc above my head.

>>5043333

With a bare instant to react, the monster—incredibly tall, I only now realize, and thankful that I had aimed high—flashes an arm up to guard itself. But, though it clearly has unbelievable strength, the razor-sharp edge blows through the arm and clean through the head.
The sword actually slices raggedly through the entire alien skull, and comes suddenly loose and free from the other side. Not the neck—I swung too high. I literally broke its head in two. It collapses, boneless.
A wave of triumph washes over me, glowing and warm. I lower the sword, seeing viscous blue blood drain from it, and—
—am scarcely able to turn in time to confront the third creature. Ears born of three decades of hunting tell me of another threat, and I spin, but I have barely raised the blade when there is a visceral blink-brightness, and a powdered flash, as brilliant as the sun.
So bright.
I see only blue, as the sword is shivered and almost thrown from my grasp. I force my eyes to open.
My sword is melted.
Bellowing, the alien—not even half a meter away—lifts its two-handed blue rifle and brings it over its head to crush me. Dazed, I uncertainly lift the sword, dragging the tip of it up.

>>5043345

And, for whatever reason, it catches perfectly into the soggy flesh; a solid core of hard steel remains beneath the liquid exterior, and as the alien lunges forward, it is impaled upon twenty-four inches of metal.
A high, keening whine. The alien, locked in its death throes with its slayer, fixes me with its dark, hideous gaze.
Unable to look into its face, I crumple to the ground. Not long after, the monster follows, gone to meet its gods.
My extremities are tinged with frostbite. I am less than a minute before realizing that I must move, or die. I see the body beside me, the sword sheathed within, and, shivering, I place my foot against the corpse and yank the weapon free.
The icy weather has already partially frozen the melted exterior anew. But not completely; I look closer, and the metal is solid, yet not locked—like a tightly-packed box of marbles, that will change if you jangle it but not move. And, tinged within the surface, hints of azure blue glimmer through, glancing and subtle. Blood.
Carrying the blade, I half-roll, half-stumble into the house. The door, of course, is gone. Using the sword as a crutch to support my tired weight, I move down the corridor to the bedroom. I will get Sophie, get to the car, and drive to the guard station. They can sort it out.

>>5043357

Sophie.
As if in response to the thought, a blood-curdling scream shatters the quiet night.
I freeze for a millisecond, like a deer caught before a train. Then I am gone, and in a heartbeat am at the door to our room.
I take it in, a moment's worth.
Darkness.
Moving figures, creeping throughout the chamber, slinking and passing one another. Blinking lights on their weapons give them away.
The wall, where the stressed window is, completely torn down. An acid, biting wind burns into my face.
And Sophie,
lying on the bed, face upturned, blood spattered around her in a warm halo. Her eyes, wide, staring at the ceiling and chest heaving in ragged breaths. Managing to tilt her head ever so slightly, she sees me and sweet Jesus help me smiles just a little
The sword still hung tiredly in one limp hand, I slowly, slowly manage to raise a deadened gaze to the room's inhabitants.

>>5043362

"... the latest thrust by the Skree, the small Inner Colony Lancing system. Though relatively minor, it is nonetheless the first in the outer ring of Inner Colonies, and the first to fall after the razing of Justinian system, the last outer world.
"Instead of a fleet bombarding the Lancing system from orbit, the citizens of Lancing IV—the first of the inhabited planets of the Lancing system to be attacked—were met with a new kind of Skree threat. A small scouting party of Hak'jaroo—the Skree warrior class—was dropped in by stealth, and was apparently tasked with marking areas of inhabitation, military and industrial centers, and other locations of interest. Officers of the Office of Human Intelligence and External Affairs today released information that they are lead to believe the Skree were engaged in an attempt to take the world intact—to slaughter the citizens, but allow the biosphere to remain livable, instead of the more common practice of bombardment from space by ship-borne weaponry.
"It is rumored that the attempt to take the Lancing system was the first step in establishing a foothold for a campaign on the rest of the Inner Worlds. The main goal is thought to be Earth.

>>5043391

"However, the Skree campaign met with disaster yesterday, when the scouting party attempted to enter the home of a local couple. There have been reports of numerous other buildings, both public and residential, being breached in a similar way, and numerous articles stolen including maps, technological worksheets, home AIs, and astrological charts.
"The full circumstances are not known. But when authorities entered the home of Mr. ——— and Mrs. ——— yesterday [note{technical}: NAMES CENSORED FOR GENERAL BROADCAST], they found that the doors, walls, and windows had been breached in a number of places, and the interior was very cold. Three bodies of the Skree party have been confirmed dead in the exterior of the house or near it, all killed by a sharp object such as a knife or a sword.
"Upon reaching what has been identified as the bedroom, colony authorities encountered—as has been verified only an hour ago—another sixteen bodies, all Skree Hak'jaroo. They are said to have been armed. Similarly, all were slain with a pointed and edged metal weapon.

>>5043406

"In the center of the room, there was a young woman, a victim of blood loss and traumatic injuries due to apparent mutilation.
"In her arms, a man was found, dead of severe plasma burning, according to the coroner's report. Both individuals were frozen solid from the inclement weather of the Lancing IV world.
"Upon receiving word of this incident, Admiral Blake of the Terran Defense Coalition mobilized a massive response fleet, pulling together over 100 ships in less than six hours. They converged on the Lancing system, and had the system's routes of movement secured when, at 08:00 today, a mid-sized battlefleet of Skree ships exited the Gate network within the system.
"The battle was brief but decisive. The Skree were defeated with less than a dozen of the SolCore task force lost.
"Admiral Blake spoke this morning of the possibility of granting the Star of Bravery to Mr. ———, despite the fact that he was not and had never been a member of the SolCore armed forces. He also spoke of something that had been found at the site of the altercation on Lancing IV, a sword, apparently somehow heat-damaged. Apparently, the local authorities who encountered the bodies had been drawn to the house by—visible through a ruined wall—the sight of the sword, flashing in the sun..."

"This is CoreWard News Network, signing off."

>>5043431

Winterbornfag here, will write more when I get off work. Adios for now, /tg

I like it. :)

But then I've always enjoyed reading sci-fi short stories, mainly military or space opera ones.

>>5043431
M-manly tears.

Hope the Skrees enjoy their homeworld when its missing its atmosphere.