Imperium Military Records

The Velocra and VeraTex A Military Overview: There are many theories regarding the evolution of the Velocra and the VeraTex. The most outrageous takes the form that the two species originated from Earth Prime 45 million years before the advent of Homo Sapiens. They advanced enough to leave the planet. The theory was that their exodus was to avoid the asteroid that nearly wiped out all life on the planet, or to avoid the ice age, which their species were not adapted to live through. No one knows for sure, and as far as the military is concerned, no one cares.

What we know about the VeraTex, is that they are extremely strong, resilient, and vicious. Their bodies have evolved to be the Apex Predator. They have a high tolerance for extreme temperatures, strong resistance to diseases and radiation, and can survive for many days without a meal. Their Brain Mass Index is much less than that of the human, and it is a mystery on how they were able to discover space travel or even build anything more complicated than the wheel. Their society values strength, and they are tribal and fiercely loyal to their individual clans. Where they lack in creativity or complex knowledge, they make up in cleverness and cruelty.

It is unclear how they discovered space travel. What we do know is that they are able to steal technologies, and enslave scientists to build for them. At nearly 300 Kilograms in Mass, they can be very convincing. Early in the first encounters with the VeraTax, we learned that they did not have a large organized military, which we are fortunate for. THey operated in tribes and clans, and live as raiders and pillagers. Wiping out colonies and settlements and stealing resources for their survival, which included engineers and scientists.

The VeraTex would make the optimal soldier, but are impossible to train or maintain any discipline. Ingrained into their DNA, they are unable to stick to a regimen necessary for any structured military training. They are fiercely loyal to their clans and would never willinging work for a human government without the possibility of betrayal.

The Velocra however are different. They are much smaller than the Veratex, averaging 45 kg, with a Brain Mass Index equal to a human. The VeraTex had enslaved the Velocra for it is believed many centuries, possibly a millenium. The Velocra are capable of complex knowledge and invention.

It is possible for a Velocra to serve in the Imperium Military. They can be disciplined and trained in a structured environment. Though smaller than the average human, they make up in speed. They have thickly dense leg muscles which allows the mto run far faster than a human, though their stamina is alittle less. Their bodies are pretty resilient, comparable to a humans, but much weaker than the VeraTex.

Their brain structure allows for them to have a greater sense of smell, though they lack the Fusiform Gyrus, which is the part of the brain that allows humans to recognize different facial patterns. Their greater sense of smell allows them to pick up genetic scents and hormones. That is how they are able to discern individuals apart from each other. Lastly, they can pick up heat signatures from a nerve cluster in their snout, which allows them greater maneuverability at night.

Battle Base 151: Mess Hall

I awoke and saw that the Med Bay was empty. The shiny metal robot next to me was acting agitated and beeping data.

“Body temperature back to normal and cellular repair is complete,” It said to me, and I just stared at it. “Get out!” It beeped at me.

My tub emptied, and I was ejected from it as it tilted. I landed on my feet and nearly fell over because I was still woozy. I hissed at the robot and was ignored in response. I was hungry. I sniffed the air. Food. I hurriedly put on my synthetic bodysuit. It was designed to adjust and fit the form of any wearer, and it was comfortable and warm. The suit came to my neck and wrists, covered my tail, and ended at my ankles. My clawed feet clicked on the metal floor, and I ran. I was quick. My tail extended behind me and above the ground as my head leaned forward. I was evolved to run through desert planes and tropical jungles. I flew through the myriad hallways of the space station Battle Base 151. I startled people as I rushed past them. I was 150 cm in length from snout to tail and was at waist level when I moved to most adult humans, so they had to jump out of my way or over me as I rushed. Nothing was to get in my way when I was hungry, especially after cellular repair.

Battle Base 151 was roughly a full five Kilometers in diameter of a spinning ring attached to a central cylinder docking station and held 1,550,000,000 cubic meters in volume with kilometers upon kilometers of twisting steel and ceramic corridors. Battle Base 151 had thousands of troops stationed, dozens of internal factories to manufacture fighter drone ships, and hundreds of operators to pilot them. It was equipped with turret cannons, missile bays, sophisticated weapon arrays for large-scale battles, and dozens of mess halls for food!

The mess hall I chose had a worker in line that liked me. She, I think she is a she, viewed me as a pet. In the Imperium of 12 planets in three star systems with a rough population of 23 billion souls, my kind numbered roughly 900 million. We were a small percentage, and many humans have never even encountered us.

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According to the histories, when humans began exploring the universe and expanding their Empire, the first intelligent life form they encountered was the VeraTax. The VeraTax are much bigger than my kind and the humans. From snout to tail, they measured three meters in length and weighed roughly 300 kilograms. They were very vicious and aggressive and enslaved my kind. The humans and the VeraTax warred for centuries taking and losing planets as they fought. My kind found themselves freed, but not knowing freedom, we became like “pets” to our new human overlords because we were smaller and, I guess, cute. That was centuries ago; since then, my kind has developed and advanced socially.

However, I took advantage of my “cuteness” and was able to skip the line to get food.

“Hi!” My server friend said with a bright smile that showed bright white teeth under her blue eyes and blond hair.

She smelled like sweet fruit. I cooed to her in response, and she giggled. She gave me a large serving of steamed vegetables. She scratched under my chin.

“I didn’t know they allowed animals in the mess hall,” a man to my left said with crazy eyes. He wore a black and green camouflage bodysuit, which marked him as a Space Marine. The FORF color was black.

“They don’t, so you will have to leave,” I responded.

The Marine had a square head with a wide jaw and flat forehead. He had the soldier’s buzz cut and smelled like sweat and steel.

“What did you say, beast?” He asked his question with a growl.

I rolled my eyes at him. “So not only are you ugly as shit and dumb as dirt, but you are also deaf? The standards for the Core have dropped,” I responded.

Space Marines know two things: Following orders and aggression. Their training was the closest to FORF in terms of intensity, but they got the better gear. Fuckers!

I looked around and saw no officers in the mess hall. Ahh, shit, I should have kept my mouth shut. Without further comment or word, the blockhead Marine came at me swinging. I responded by snapping my jaws at his hands, which caused him to pause and gave me time to back up and create distance. My species were originally foragers, so our teeth were mostly blunted, unlike the VeraTax, with razor-like teeth designed to tear and kill. But our bite still can hurt an unarmored human hand.

“Where I’m from, we chase and hogtie your kind for sport,” he growled and circled me.

Fucking discriminating hick redneck planet was where he came from. He had a tattoo of a human skull on his pink-fleshed forearm. I never understood humans and their fascination with skulls. I associated skulls with failure. I mean, if your scales, flesh in the case for humans, fell off your skull, then that sort of meant you were dead and failed.

The Marine was a big specimen with corded muscle. He had a good thirty kilograms on me. His aggression leaked into his scent and was abrasive and stung my nostrils. My arms, compared to a human, were useless in hand-to-hand combat. They were good enough to hold a rifle but not striking or grappling. I had a tail that could hit pretty hard and had good reach despite my size disadvantage. I also have some sharp claws on my hind paws. Well not really that sharp since I had them trimmed. Fucking grooming standards. My legs were more densely muscled than a human’s, which allowed me to run faster. I ran, or rather I tried to run, but a crowd had formed a circle around us.

“Nowhere to run, lizard,” the Marine taunted and rushed me.

I couldn’t escape, so I swung my tail toward his ankles in an attempt to knock him to the ground. He stopped his lunge and leaped back. Hoping he was off guard, I pumped my legs under me and launched myself head-first toward his chest. Before I could connect solidly, he sprawled out, laying his chest on the top of my head and pushing me toward the floor. A wrestler, I should have guessed. He attempted to wrap his right arm under my throat, but I prevented that with my left forearm. He dropped his weight on me, and I held my ground with my legs, but it was a tremendous effort.

I wouldn’t be able to hold him up much longer, and eventually, he would take me to the ground. I had a chance to win this, and that was for me to drop and spin to bring my legs between us where I could scratch him with my claws. My groomed claws were not sharp, but humans have such soft and weak flesh.

I feinted with a strong shove and dropped down, spinning my legs. Blockhead reacted and adjusted by sliding to my side and pinning me to the ground where my legs were away from him. Shit! He was not kidding about his home planet’s discriminating recreational practices.

He slammed his knee into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. He shoved his forearm into my jaw and prevented me from biting him. He also locked my legs with his left arm and pressed his weight into me. I kept squirming, but sooner or later, he will start smashing me in my face with his fist. The snout smashing never came. Instead, I felt his weight lifted off me and saw him go flying past me.

“Nobody messes with Little Sammy here except for us,” Rickard’s deep voice boomed.

In my constant state of disrespect for him, I forgot that he was an impressively large human, as big as Blockhead.

Speaking of Blockhead, he got up furious. “You’ll pay,” he said and lunged at Rickard.

Rickard was not a bright man, but he knew how to fight. He had a smile on his dark-skinned face as Blockhead came at him with a wild swing. Rickard ducked and countered with a single punch that sent the Marine to the floor unconscious while the other marines surrounded us like a pack of feral dogs.

“Who wants some?” Rickard growled and roared, “Dying in Service to the Government is an Honor.”

The rest of my squad, myself included, shouted, “Huzzah!” in response. What can I say? I felt a moment of pride. On Battle Base 151, we were the only FORF squad. My unit had a ridiculously high mortality rate, so there were never many of us. However, the marines outnumbered us plenty. They surrounded us, ready to inflict violence. Rickard laughed and was excited about the possibility of being pummeled to death. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grimes shake her head at the Marines, and they cowed like dogs with tails between their legs. The marines backed away and were followed by Rickard’s bravado.

“That’s right! FORF!!!!” Rickard Shouted.