“They are such small, fragile things. In the face of something truly worthy of fear, what are they going to do?”
What a large question for such a little planet. Of course, the answer was obvious: they wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Intergalactic wars had always been fought, those with regenerative powers surviving and those with strength emerging victorious. Some did best running or hiding in the shadows. Each universal war was the same, a mechanical cycle among the stars.
Until a human wrench found itself dancing with massive, time-proclaimed gears.
All could feel the next war boiling up, threatening to spill over into disaster once again; however, one species known for intuition had a feeling.
“There is something off about this war. It isn’t the same as the ones that have come before: no, this is going to affect us on a greater scale than ever before, a scale that we can’t even comprehend, let alone prepare for. Heed my words. Do not fight this war.” The words were wise and well sourced. To the peace council, the answer was obvious. For the rest of the universe, well…
“Cancel the war? What a stupid notion. That council has never done a thing, and now it thinks it can just stop a war by speaking?” The fiery Glanth laughed as it shook its head. “We’ve been disrespected by the Anoric for far too long. It’s past time for us to take what’s rightfully ours!” The bar screamed its approval.
“The war is already won. The Glanth are cowards who choke confronted with conflict. Our hand is utmost: victory is viciously in view. Do not desist in your digilent duties! Fight for freedom! Reach for reputation! Life is limitless.” The Anorics roared in raucous ratification.
The war had begun, and it would not be stopped.
It was in all of this that the little planet was forgotten. Fragile creatures who hadn’t yet reached beyond their moon were of the least concern to anyone.
They were only supposed to be on their moon? So why was one spotted among Anoric ranks? Another with the Glanth? Two more seen in the peace council plaza? How had they gotten so far without being seen?
An intergalactic announcement was made, decreeing that any human off of its planet was to be killed on sight. With war on the horizon, humans weren’t a risk anyone was willing to take. Besides, just because they could travel wouldn’t change they fact that they were weak. They’d be gone within the qop.
It had been 3 ½ qops since the last human was found. The war was at its peak. Life went on.
5 qops. The war was over. The Glanth did not win.
The victors were from a little planet with a single moon. They had come in at the beginning of the fourth qop from all areas of the universe. They spoke in a tongue indesipherable by the best translators, with a military strategy that by all accounts made no sense. Yet here they were. They had survived persecution at the start of the war, and the war itself. Humans had the lowest casualty rate of any race in the war. They were struck down again and again, losing limbs and blood, but never once losing the fight in their eyes.
That’s when it clicked. When everyone realized. Humans didn’t need to be strong. They didn’t need armor or weapons. Throw them a length of rope and a degrading remark and you’ll find yourself at their mercy within the hour. Humans don’t just die. They fight until they cannot move. They scream until their lungs don’t remember air. They will pick themselves up until their fingers are worn away, bleeding reminders of their efforts. Humans aren’t human at all, and yet that is what makes them so alive.
