RNS Defender, Drydock A16, Astarine Outpost, Condrilina System

A Joint Task Force was a prestigious posting, desired by almost every serving being in the United Systems Republic (USR) Military, be it Army, Navy, or Expeditionary Corp.

A coalition of the most elite from every species that can make the cut, it was the best place to get some intense action in the frontlines and a quick promotion to go with it. Every species, be it peaceworlders, roughworlders, or warworlders, wants at least one representative in a JTF.

Ilinara was proud to be the one to finally put the Masitari on the list. Originating from a warworld with 1.93 standard Gs, she had a massive advantage over most of the other recruits.

She was just below average height at [1.78m], but her warworld evolutionary traits, such as her heighten senses or retractable claws, kept her one step ahead throughout training and selection. Her fur was thick enough to keep her warm at night and short enough to not overheat her in the field.

There were few warworlders throughout the 25 JTFs, only because they were so rare to begin with, and she was the only one in JTF-7, the only one onboard the Defender, even. One warworlder amongst a group of roughworlders and peaceworlders.

Despite being junior enlisted when she got to the squad, the others looked to her for advice in the field, and she was always eager to help out. Of course she was, joining the USR was all about integration and friendly relations, and joining a JTF meant getting a new family. Of course she would want to help.

Besides, her stellar service got her a spot here, and she was eager to prove herself.

But now? Now, for the first time in her 11 standard cycles in the Navy, Ilinara wished that her service was just a little less stellar.

"Respectfully, sir? What the fuck!?"

Rear Admiral Stefnar, a stern, hardened Rivkalak veteran, looked as shaken as she was. "I almost said the same thing to the Fleet Admiral myself, Chief Mitali. Almost."

Ilinara took a beat to keep her voice from cracking and stomped on her own tail to keep it from swinging all over the place. "Sir.... they're Terrans."

"I'm well aware."

"Terrans, sir!"

The admiral slammed a giant scaled claw onto the table. "I'm well aware of what they are, and what they've done, Ilinara. I'm well aware of the history. But orders are orders, and Secretary General Alvarez has been pushing for this since she got elected and the Admiralty has conceded. You, as our only shipboard warworlder, will be expected to help them acclimate to our ship."

At her look of distress, he chittered, his people's version of a sigh. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I really am, but this is happening. Nothing you and I can do about it."

She whined, a low, lilting sound in the back of her throat, to vent her frustrations. "I understand, sir. Thanks for notifying me beforehand." With that, and a smart salute, she left for her quarters.

Fucking- why!? And why them!? Sure, she was from a warworld, but how did they expect her to handle not just one, but six deathworlders??

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

----------------------------------------

For the longest time, everyone thought that warworlders were the apex of the galaxy's evolution, as far as spacefaring species were concerned at least. Surely they couldn't get any more dangerous than a species that evolved in environments so extreme most beings would struggle to even spend a day in? Surely there was nowhere to go from there, not without driving themselves to extinction?

Sure, there were deathworlds, but they were tucked away neatly in the outer arms of the galaxy, never to create sapience because they were all so fucking violent and hostile. Not just the planets, but the fauna too. They'd kill each other before ever discovering what a tool was.

That was the theory, and a universally accepted one.

And then they found Terrans.

They called themselves Humans at first. Parliament was understandably shocked. To find sapience on a deathworld was one thing. To find a fully formed and (somewhat) functioning society? Unthinkable. Incredible.

Terrifying.

There was fierce debates over what to do with the Humans. Some said they should uplift them, bring them to the stars so they could contribute to the USR. Others wanted to leave them be. They've never sent one of their own past the moon, and with their destructive nature they'd be extinct long before making it to intersystem travel.

The Crevtons attacked Terra before anyone could make a decision.

A particularly cruel and powerful species of hive-minded warworlders, their military bared down on the deathworld, gunning for resources and slave labor. After all, an unsuspecting species numbering at over 8 billion? Perfect for 'recruitment drives'.

The Terrans drove them back. Every. Single. Ship. They decimated a Crevton fleet and chased down the rest, destroying one shuttle after another with an efficiency that spoke of a species honed not just by hostile environments, but by warfare. Their weaponry, while primitive in design, were all devastatingly destructive in nature, to the point where USR Regulators banned them from ever leaving the Sol System.

Parliament was relieved that they wouldn't have to interfere, and maybe this would get the Crevtons to see sense, to see that conquest wasn't the way forward, and to join the USR and adopt its ideals.

16 cycles after the failed invasion, the Humans nuked Crevto Prime.

Testimony from the Terran ambassador later on said that they never meant to burn the planet's crust. They were just trying to deter further invasions by crippling the Crevton military power. One nuke sent to their largest base, that was all.

They never thought that uranium would ignite the atmosphere in such a way. Never thought that the 'detergence package' they sent down would be an extinction-level event for the Crevton people.

The galaxy watched in horror as Crevto Prime, once a lush but dangerous warworld, died a slow, agonizing death.

A quarantine was ordered. It was swiftly ignored. A particularly rowdy and stupid group of academy pledges from Nimlak-7 were challenged into making contact with a Human scouting ship surveying the outer edges of the Nimla System at the time.

They all died, every single one of them. That part wasn't shocking. It was how they died that was the curious part.

According to autopsy and later testimony from the deathworlders themselves, the pledges died from severe ethanol poisoning, drinking a Human beverage called a 'beer'.

And that was how Humans, later calling themselves 'Terrans', became aware of the USR. No big discovery, no First Contact Protocol, no great war. Nope, a bunch of stupid pledges led them straight to the rest of the galaxy.

It took a few cycles of back and forth probing, but they eventually extended a hand in peace, and Parliament accepted. Terra became the newest planet in the USR, and Terrans became the first, and so far only, sapient deathworld species in the galaxy.

----------------------------------------

Ilinara grumbled as she read the debrief. Six Terrans, all military, all handpicked from elite units. Wait, elite units? Their infantry were elite by intergalactic standards! What the fuck were elite Terrans supposed to be like?

Regardless, it was complete Kravak shit is what it was. Lieutenant Commander Thuriam was next in line for command, not some random Terran, no matter how elite. Oh, she was not looking forward to breaking that news.

Her commlink chimes. Unknown code. She denied the call.

Another call. Same code.

Ilinara growled and answered. "Listen, whatever scam you fucks are trying to pull, I'm not interested in playing along. Got it?"

A beat of silence on the other side, then a smooth, rough chuckled sounded in her ear, a sound that made her tensed up instinctively, her senses screaming 'danger' at her.

"Now, is that any way to start a conversation with your new CO, Chief Mitali?"