Frankly, I’m on a Christmas break till January. So just a week and a bit!
Anyway, 500 word limit thing so here.
From the dawn of humanity, to far beyond the twilight of it, we have always searched for friends. From the ‘friend shaped’ wolves, now dogs, and however lions managed to evolve into cats, e have always been rather lonely, believe it or not. After all, we evolved as a pack endurance predator. This means we crave longing relationships with other animals, other species. You see, dogs and cats could only go so far, and you can imagine, even after we ruined our own planet through war, we still had hope. The Xanthians crushed it, and a human with anger cooled into iron is much more dangerous than one with burning hot rage. Why, you ask? Because rage clouds judgement, causing humans to make irrational decisions we normally wouldn’t. Cold fart, however, reverts us buck into our primal forms. Cold, calculating, enduring and hateful. If the galaxy won’t accept us, then it’ll have to burn. Ever wonder why a certain imperium hates aliens/ Xenos? Because it’s a violent galaxy and if you don’t kill them they’ll kill you, your family, kick your pets to death, then salt your land.
When the Xanthians are kicking your door down with axe in hand you won’t see the Yvan in your backyard sneak in the window with a crowbar, or the Quentlels that are grappling in through your top floor with a claymore and vengeance. The only way to face the threats of the galaxy are to either befriend or eliminate them. There’s no telling when a neutral party would coordinate attacks with a previously unknown one to try to slaughter your people. Xenophobia is not out of hate in this here galaxy, but necessity bred out of millennia of heartbreaks and mistrusts, betrayals and blood oaths. It’s us or them, and I don’t know about you, but them is much more preferable for me. Onwards soldiers of the republic! We march for victory!
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
-‘The bad ending’ of the galaxy, one Alpha is trying to prevent by killing all hostile aliens before first contact.
Here’s the pre chapter note for the next one, a teaser if you will, now I can’t just keep waffling for another 120 words because not only am I sick as fuck, but it’s 1 am in the morning on a Sunday. Brilliant, right? Q
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There, that’s five hundred words at last. Never mind, 499, now it’s five hundred and eight.