Chapter 11:

Dorfo was a former military man. He served for 15 years as a ShipMaster in the Strunin defense fleet. Only people with that background could become ShipMasters of the Lux carrier company. In case of danger, they needed someone with experience. Dorfo was used to dealing with the Fusar, even with the Yor, in the Yoranian Strunin border war. It was too short to be considered an actual war, but that's what it was called. He wasn't someone who frightened easily, but he was now face to face with Terrans. They were savage, known for their disdain for other races. This act made no sense to him, but could this small group of Terrans start killing them off one by one and take their vessel? And why was the old counselor eager to meet them?

While Dorfo was trying to remain calm and understand the situation, the Terran with the death's head spoke,

"Ambassador, thank you for coming personally to greet us. Welcome to the border of the Terran Dominion. I am High Admiral Mihajlovich Aleksandar. I will be the spokesman for our people in our discussions."

The old councilor, seemingly unfazed, calmly responded.

"High Admiral, welcome to the Luxury 06. I am Garden Ren, head of the Ren Clan and a diplomat of the Strunin Collective. I am very honored to be, as you say, an ambassador for my people during your visit. The lady next to me is Rara; she is my secretary and will document our true first contact, if that seems agreeable."

The Terran did not change his expression.

"Naturally, ClanHead Ren. I hope that is the correct term. Anyway, the large gentleman next to me is Admiral Grayback Gregory. He is my second in command and will be part of our discussions. He will communicate with your secretary during our visit."

The Terran extended his right limb to the old counselor. The old man reached out and grasped the limb the Terran had extended, and they both made a shaking gesture. Then the old man gestured to Dorfo.

"This is ShipMaster Dorfo; he is in command of this craft."

The Terran looked at Dorfo uninterested, made a nodding gesture with his head, and turned to the ambassador once more.

The old councilor turned his attention to the five armed Terrans. They were holding their weapons as if they were waiting for the order to strike. The rifles were a matte black color and obviously kinetic. The old Strunin knew the Terrans had weapons that were more advanced. He was now trying to read the intentions of the Terrans. He started to doubt his decision slightly and forced himself to ask,

"High Admiral?"

"Mihajlovich is fine," said the Terran leader. The old councilor was now taken aback by the coldness in his voice, but he decided to ask anyway.

"I see those five warriors behind you are holding kinetic weapons."

Mihajlovich shrugged.

"Don’t worry, Ambassador. They are just here for security. Pay them no mind."

The Ambassador continued.

"Forgive me, ah, why are your warriors using kinetic weapons?"

Mihajlovich smiled. A part of him hoped that he would ask.

"Quite simple, Ambassador: tradition."

The Ambassador felt calmer after that but was still curious.

"Would you please share this tradition with us? We know very little of Terran culture. We would care to learn more if you would honor us."

The Terran parted his lips wildly, showing his teeth. It made the Strunin very uneasy. Now the counselor was regretting asking the question.

The two Terrans stepped aside so that their warriors came into full view, then the Terran leader spoke.

"Sergeant, please, introduce your weapon to our hosts."

Gesturing to Sargent Paul

Fear struck the Strunin as the first Terran warrior with a large pink scar on the right side of his face stepped out of line in front of them,

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pulled a mechanism on his weapon, and held it in front of the Strunin with outstretched arms.

The Strunin didn't know how to act. Their guards were on edge, afraid of what would happen if they took any action. Then the Terran warrior in front of them spoke in a very loud voice.

“This is my weapon. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My weapon is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.

My weapon, without me, is useless. Without my weapon, I am useless. I must fire my weapon true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will...

My weapon and myself know that what counts in war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit...

My weapon is Terran, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights, and its barrel. I will ever guard it against the ravages of weather and damage as I will ever guard my legs, my arms, my eyes, and my heart against damage. I will keep my weapon clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will...

Before Terra, I swear this creed. My weapon and myself are the defenders of my people. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life.

So be it, until victory is Terran and there is no enemy, but peace.”

There was a look of horror in the eyes of the Strunin. The Yor secretary was holding onto a railing with both of her upper limbs, trying not to fall. These Terrans, they worship their weapons, regard them as brothers, treat them as if they were not objects of death but people. For some reason that is unclear, all those present looking at the Terrans felt fear and unease.

The Terran leader spoke.

"Thank you, Sergeant. Please return to your men."

Then the sacred warrior just replied, “Yes, sir,” and fell back in line.

"As you can see, we take our guns very seriously, and we use them to fight as long as we have munitions and as long as our hearts still beat. Every soldier is responsible for their weapon. It has been so for a very long time."

The old ClanHead found his composure again and dared to ask another question.

"And if you run out of ammunition for the weapon?"

The Terran bared his teeth again and said.

“Well, then we will use our knives, or our bare hands if need be.”

The old councilor let his curiosity get the better of him once again.

“And what might the knife be?”

The Terran looked to his warriors again and said,

“Bibek”

“Yes sir”

This time a hairless Terran with very pale skin and blue eyes responded.

“Please present your knife.”

Said the admiral.

The Terran warrior walked up and stood next to its leader.

“Bibek please present your knife”

“Yes sir.”

The warrior gave a response, and pulled a short blade out of some compartment on his leg garment.

“Bibek how far do Terras borders reach?”

The Terran warrior stretched out his arm pointing the blade at a nearby wall and spoke.

“As long as this blade can reach.”

Said the warrior.

“And why is the blade so short?”

Asked the Terran leader of his warrior.

“To get even closer to the enemy.”

The Terran warrior replied.

“Thank you Bibek, back to formation.”

The blue eyed warrior gave a “Yes sir” and returned to his position.

“I hope that the answers were too your liking Ambassador,”

Said Mihajlovich, as he stood back In Front of the old councilor, his second, the giant ape standing next to him.