It’s easy to forget that among the Umvirate races humans have the least distance from their evolutionary ancestors. They’re charming and friendly, and get along with damn near everyone.
But there are moments when we’re reminded just how animal these newcomers still are. For me, that moment was when our ship crashed.
Smoke clogged the air, pouring from combusting electronics. My ducts wheezed forcefully, trying to force the particles out. Logically I knew it was a waste of effort; no one would be able to lift the section of ship that had me pinned. But every species has some degree of survival instinct in them, and mine wouldn’t let me stop.
Thank the algorithms for that.
A shape burst through the whirling smoke and flames, forcing them to curl around it and snarling as the tongues of fire licked at its exposed flesh. A brief hope swelled within me before my rational mind quelled it. I cannot be saved, it said. Do not drag anyone down with me.
“What are you doing here?” I called, recognizing our human, Ash, whom we’d picked up not two calendars ago. “You have to get out!”
Ash barked in a hoarser laugh than normal, the smoke, I assumed, and said, “And leave you behind? Not happening.” I could see the human’s eyes now, darting about taking in the situation. The pupils widened as it saw where I was pinned and for a moment I was horribly reminded that it came from a predator species. Logic, thankfully, overrode the accompanying worries. Still, it did not have enough strength in its frame to move the metal that had me pinned, not with under this gravity, not even with its deathworlder build.
I tried again to warn Ash away as it approached, but a snarl was the reply I got as the human braced itself against the floor and pinning metal. I closed my ears in grief. We had been warned, of course, how humans will imprint on crew members, treating them as they would family. It was part of what attracted us to the idea of hiring one, after all. But we hadn’t accounted for the bonding working both ways, and now I felt guilt for Ash’s impending death.
I did not hear – as my ears were screwed shut – but rather felt the metal warping as it was bent off of me. Shock overtook me as my brain attempted to make sense of the event. Ash could not have the strength to do that, but somehow did. Thank the algorithms. By the time I could process everything that happened fresh air was assaulting my ducts. Gratefully I inhaled and stared up at the beautiful, grimacing beast that had saved me.
Us, I quickly realized. Several other crewmembers, only somewhat singed, lay in the field around us. I could hear Ash’s ducts working overtime to supply fresh air to its system and my sight returned to it. The human’s eyes were wide and staring at the burning wreckage. Not in fear, I realized, but focus. A focus so intense that I shivered to even be on its periphery. But the guttural roar that burst from the duct of the human shook me even more.
Ash began sprinting back into the burning ship. I lay there in silent horror watching my companion defy every survival instinct it must have and charge back to save more of our crewmembers. And then I saw it happen again.
Seventeen members were saved before the fire became too intense for even the deathworlder. It collapsed to its knees at the burning entrance making sounds I recognized as distress. Having recovered enough to move, I drug myself forward and wrapped myself around the human in the manner that I had been told was comforting. It must have worked as the human gripped me tightly – uncomfortably so – as it wailed in grief for the lives it could not save.
I learned later – almost as an aside while giving my report – how it was that Ash was able to accomplish what I had thought logically impossible. Evidently under great stress humans secrete a natural compound very similar to higher end combat stims. This gives them increased energy, further resistance to pain, and unbounded use of their freakish strength. That last thought especially chilled me. It was haunting to know that every feat of power I’d seen until then was subconsciously limited by their brains to prevent their own body from tearing itself apart.
Despite the tragedy, Ash thankfully chose to stay on, though I think it was uncomfortable with the newfound deference shown to it. But there was nothing to be done about it.
After all, to us Ash was an angel.
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