The strange resilience of a human child is something to behold, tragedy may change them, trauma may hurt them, terror may grasp them right down to their bones. But somehow despite not being the strongest race in the galaxy, or the smartest, or the fastest, they are born with reserves of inner will that keeps them carrying on. And as long as they live and breathe, it is at least possible for them to stand up again where any other species strongest figures has lain down and died.
In the brief conflict with the Zenti who would not abide by the treaty, a story was passed down which most have heard by now. Of a Zenti cutter who severed a human arm, only for the human to pick up the fallen arm with his good one and beat the weapon wielder to death with the severed limb. A human warrior has been known to fight until they run out of blood… something the Zenti now refer to as ‘Terran Murder Fuel’ and speak with hushed whispers that the humans are not a naturally evolved species. They say rather that homo sapiens were made by a forerunner race that wanted to engineer the perfect predatory biological warmachine.
All reasonable academics discount this as simply the whispers of Zenti clusters.
But the stories do not exist without reason. Many of their military accomplishments were recorded on video. It was for this reason that my entire exchange class recommended a change to existing laws on interstellar warfare.
“Never. Ever. Ever. Target human’s defenseless mates or children.” The recommendation was accompanied not only by all of my class’s signatures as subject matter experts, but our professor and all other university exchange students residing on Earth. The recommendation was accompanied by piles of historical records on the degree to which humans will go to undertake revenge for harm done to their young. Until this recommendation was made, laws on warfare pertained chiefly to when war could be made or what had to be abandoned when a planet was evacuated. Few races consider their young to be significant assets and will simply abandon them to make more.
But no race is so invested in their young as humans, not even dlamisa, who usually lose one or two per litter and are little inconvenienced by it, but fiercely protect any three or fewer survivors. Humans however, will go to any lengths to avenge even one deceased child if it is well loved.
Between that knowledge and their reputation for battle prowess, not to mention the piles of evidence presented, the laws of war were amended before human fleets full of families became common.
And all of that, I found encapsulated in a single little house in the Human homeworld’s capital city. Fauve steeled her nerves for the coming of the media expert or, ‘Public Relations Specialist’ and sat silently at the table, staring all the way to the front door of the house to await his arrival.
Her mother stayed close at hand while her father remained seated outside with the next rotation of security guards, he was engaged in idle chatter of which I only heard a little.
Humans sometimes, in my experience, get chatty when they are nervous. Like the noise they make will keep danger at bay, or like they are trying to reassure themselves that everything is normal, even when it is anything but. I almost went out to speak with William and the others myself, but I thought better of it and went instead into the kitchen where Fauve lingered over a half eaten bowl of oatmeal flavored with brown sugar, butter, and milk.
She looked at me when I came close, not saying anything, I don’t think she trusted that her voice was ready yet. I held out her datapad.
“You left this downstairs the other day.” I said and her hands closed over it. “I didn’t try to open it, but I saw the preview messages, go ahead and take a look.” I really wished, when I said that, that I could smile like a human could.
I did at least wag my tail hard enough that I blew a few stray papers off of a nearby chair without noticing it until I heard the scrape of paper over wood.
Rebecca went to pick them up while Fauve gasped and opened the datapad to read the messages. She didn’t complain about my having seen the previews, I doubted she cared. Her fingers were shaking while she opened up the pad and she had to try three times to put in the code before it worked and the screen lit up.
“Please call off your dogs.”
“I didn’t mean any harm.”
“I was just trolling, I didn’t realize there was a real problem.”
“I’m not a bad guy, I was just angry because he’s my friend…”
She read the messages out loud from the various sources to come her way. Notably she skipped over the threats of violence toward her person, or myself, or her family that were almost certainly buried within. I could read her thoughts in her eyes.
‘Evidence.’ That was what she thought. When Fauve first ‘tested’ me by throwing that ball that… on thinking about it I really want to chase again, she showed me something of her character. She likes to test things. Including people. She watches. She studies. And where a few days ago those threats of violence might have upset her, the fear she once almost certainly felt had been changed into anger, hatred, and a desire for retribution.
More importantly, when she saw the pleas for mercy from some and the threats from others, I could see her come to the correct conclusion.
“They’re scared.” Fauve said when her mother set the papers aside and looked her way. “Good. They should be scared. It’s right for them to be scared. It’s their turn to be scared. But… I wonder what happened exactly?”
Rebecca was the one to answer her, “If the government took a special interest? Perhaps some home visits, perhaps taking over their systems and giving them a text based warning about what was going to happen if they continued? Maybe a few arrests. Things will get ugly for some of them. Uglier than their faces in the mirror, if I’m guessing.”
“Good.” Fauve said, just as the front door cracked open and William announced in a bold voice…
“He’s here, it’s time.”
