"They say that Terraneytis requires a Terran to infect you with it. That's not true. It requires Wrath or Rage. That's all it is." - Legan Ironfist, "The Blood Upon My Hands", Free Telkan Press
"...the Malevolent Universe has a... soft spot... for the underclass - the beaten, the downtrodden, those for whom the light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming grav-train. She has a tendency to grind them down, cleanse them with fire, and light that spark of Rage within. Like primitive metallurgy, the ore of the Downtrodden becomes the warsteel of the Enraged. She has a particular preference for those who embrace Righteous Wrath - that unending wellspring of affront that others suffer without due cause. Terraneyetis usually follows... and that is everyone else's problem." - Musings on the Malevolent Universe, Pond'rmoo, Lanaktallan Philosoper, and Social Commentator.
“To those who heard the Terrans refuse to release the dead to the avaricious clutches of those who governed the places they called home in life it may seem strange that the Dark Crusade would bring the fallen back to fight on with nary a peep from TerraSol.
After all, is not being reborn into war to suffer and fight again not the most hellish violation the consent that they claim to so fervently guard?
The question misses the forest for the trees. Context is everything when dealing with anything related to the Terrans, and the more outlandish that thing may be the more important context is.
It is one thing to tear the long dead from their earned rest and the embrace of their loved ones to solve the problems of those who ought to provide their own solutions. It is quite another to call back the soul of a fallen warrior to a body made of warsteel and hate, not to answer a master’s call or even because cruel Necessity demands it but because: the enemy still draws breath and they’re not fucking finished yet.” -- Excerpt from ‘Crusaders: A Brief and Terrifying History’, Treana'ad Historian Klutzy Sherbert, Smokey Cone Press.
"How long have you lived with it?" - Vuxten
"It's always been there." - Casey
The early days were both the hardest and the most exhilarating.
Those are the days I dream of when I have the dream. The one that haunt me the most.
The one where I wake up on the floor of my shipboard room, face down on the metal in a puddle of vomit and drool. I open my eyes, head ringing from too much stim and alk, with Wrixet staring at me.
The dream where everything since those hectic days of violence is nothing but a hangover fueled dream, a fantasy that I will never have.
After all, I knew then, with a certainty only someone in such circumstances can have, that I would not survive the next drop.
I don't know which is worse. That the dream is nothing more than a nightmare.
Or that it is all of this is a dream induced by The Bliss as it carries me off on a forgotten battlefield.- Meditations on the Barrier War, Lancer First Class Imna, Free Telkan Press, 25 Post-Terran Emergence
Hetmwit sat at the console, watching as the two Telkan, one male, one female, boarded the ship. They were nervously following Mister Scrooge, the all black skeletal looking robot appearing lean and evil as it motioned at them to follow with long taloned fingers.
He switched cameras to follow them as they were moved to one of the Marine Compliment Berths.
Normally the Nell of Night, as the ship had been renamed, would carry sixty-four Terran Confederate Marines, half of them in cryo-stasis.
Now, it was just the two Telkan and a bunch of robots that Hetmwit had been steadily upgrading since they had arrived at what was being called "Forward Non-Orbital Operating Base Yamaloka" by the Crusade and everyone else that was showing up.
He checked another monitor.
There were four Telkan Warbound being loaded onto the Nell of Night, with two being loaded onto the other ships.
The flotilla he was the Executive Officer of now numbered thirteen ships, counting the Nell of Night, with only the two Telkan, Captain Decken, and himself as living crewmembers.
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There was supposed to be some support from the Dark Crusade of Light before they left, but Cargo Bay Three was undergoing refit to handle the Warbound and Cargo Bay Two was being refit for whatever it was they were going to get from the Crusade.
Hetmwit wasn't up on his Telkan body language, but he could tell that the male was awed with the sheer space of the quarters he had. It was the stateroom for the Terran Marine Corps Detachment commanding officer. The female had what should have been a room for two all to herself and she didn't seem as awed by the living space.
Different social/economic castes? he wondered.
After a minute the male Telkan touched the headset he was wearing. Hetmwit knew that the Telkan wasn't scheduled for his datalink surgery for another day. Hetmwit's board pinged and he tapped the answer icon.
"Hetmwit here," he said.
"Is anyone there?" the Telkan asked.
"Hetmwit here," he tried again. Usually, third time was a charm.
"Uh, hi. I'm Wrixet, one of the two Telkan you had brought on board," the male Telkan said.
"Uh, so, this room, uh," Wrexit said, looking around the room again. "Uh, are you sure it's mine?"
"That is the room assigned to you," Hetmwit said.
"Hello?" there was silence for a moment. "Guess he hung up."
The line went dead and Hetmwit shook his head.
Hetmwit looked up and saw Captain Decken was staring at the holotank. He got up and moved over to the Captain, looking into the holotank.
The male Telkan, clad in crimson colored armor, was fighting hand to hand against the Hellshades. The sound was off and there were windows on the edge of the holotank display, each showing a different movement pattern. Captain Decken was nodding to himself as a window lit up and the figure inside performed the same movements as Wrixet in the main display.
"What are you doing?" Hetmwit asked.
"Fighting style analysis," Decken said. "It looked untrained to me. The computer agrees. I'm also watching for how long it takes him to decide on his next course of action and how long he acts until he stops."
"Very few species can do action without thought, even with ingrained reflexes," Decken said. "Even the Treana'ad and Mantid have trouble with it. The Rigellians can go longest, with the most action chains, and the shortest delay, but it's still there."
"Telkans are the fourth shortest thought to action. You apparently can train a Tukna'rn to act based on repetition reflex burn-in, but only according to doctrine. Rigellians are second. Treana'ad warrior caste are third," Decken said.
"Whose first?" Hetmwit asked.
"Warrior caste Mantid," Decken said. he looked up and saw Hetmwit's expression of confusion. "Oh, my people?" Hetmwit nodded and Decken smiled. "We can perform without thought to action and make predictive analysis and movement forced combat prediction without software," he tapped his forehead. "We've got a string of wiring, deep in our brain. Pretty dense stuff."
Decken gave a wider smile. "The human brain is pieces layered on top of older pieces. All the way at the bottom is a chunk about as big as your thumb pad. It's the oldest part of our brain, an animal part," Decken said. "And, like an animal, it doesn't have to think, it just does," he looked back at the imaging of the Telkan fighting Hellshades. "No other species has that piece. Just us."
"Weird," Hetmwit said.
"This guy is untrained. You can tell," he held up one finger to stop Hetmwit's protest. "I said untrained, not unexperienced," Decken leaned forward. "The way he uses the walls, if I had to guess, I'd guess illegal pit fights."
Hetmwit frowned. "I thought the Telkan were part of the Confederacy. They'd have such things?"
Decken shrugged. "We've been gone forty-thousand years, Number One, a lot can change," he said.
Decken reached the end of the playback, as the Telkan knelt down next to a dying one, and shut off the central image. He moved the images of the Telkan fighting, through certain move-sets, and then brought up the keyboard.
A few key taps and ninety seconds later and Decken nodded at what came up.
"What's that?" Hetmwit asked.
"Compatible fighting style that's in the combat training library," Decken said. He scrolled through the text. "Nell of Night has it loaded into its system," Decken looked up and smiled. "Give me two months, the time it will take to get back to your star nation, and I'll train him to ruin anything in front of him."
Decken turned back to the holotank, bringing up images of the female Telkan fighting.
"Let's see what I can do for you," Decken said softly.
Hetmwit waited for the door to open and stepped through.
His mother and sisters were sitting in the fairly large stateroom, normally used for high ranking officers. They were looking around, almost in awe, at the luxury and space the stateroom contained.
"I have to leave soon, momma," Hetmwit said, moving up in front of his mother. "In a few hours."
"Hemmie," his mother said. She held out her arms to him and he sunk down on his knees, resting his head against her as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
"Hemmie," his sisters said, moving over to touch him. His nieces and nephews moved up, all hugging on him. They didn't really understand why, just that their mothers were hugging him and they wanted to give hugs too.
Revvie, Tylee, and Estlee all rubbed on him, rubbing their faces against his shoulders. The kids were holding tight to him.
His mother hugged him close.
"Just know, my perfectly ordinary boy, that I will always love you. No matter what," she said. His sisters murmured the same.
The littles all crooned that they loved him.
Hetmwit closed his eyes and hugged back.
He had a feeling he'd need all of this he could get.
"I'll do my best to come back," he promised.
"I'll hold you in my heart," his mother promised.
Captain Decken looked at Hetmwit.
"Everything green?" the Terran asked.
Hetmwit nodded. "I just wanted to say goodbye to my family."
Decken nodded then turned back to the holotank.
"Go to lightspeed, Mister Smiley," Captain Decken said.
[The Universe Liked That]