So, you want to know why I fear the Terrans? Well, I could tell you. Or I could tell you a story from before the lot of you were born.

What's that? You are fine without the story? Well, that's too bad because you bought me a large drink and I am in a talking mood. So shut your faces and plant your scales on the floor, privates, and let me tell you about the wrath of the ones that love.

When the Terrans finally joined the galactic community, they went through a collective depression over the fact that they were not strong, fast, dangerous, loud or any other thing that might set them apart. When they learned that what set them apart was their ability to feel the levels of empathy they could, they embraced it. They became the nurturers and teachers of the galaxy.

No student was too unruly, no hatchling was too fuzzy, and no trauma was too deep. They could find solutions to everything, dragging beings from the void of dissocial behavior and back to society, all while smiling and speaking gentle words of encouragement to keep you going.

They set hundreds of goals for you, each one only a little more effort away than the last, the differences so minuscule you do not notice the change within you they are bringing with them.

They step in front of you when you are filled with rage and running wild, open arms wide for a hug and a permanent smile on those warm and caring faces.

They cry with you when you hurt and they laugh with you when you succeed. Truly, they are the ones that love. Which brings me to the meat of the story.

I was young, no older than you lot are now, and just like you I had just joined my first assignment as a privateer... You know what, let's call it what it is, I had just signed up as a stinking pirate, and our target was a fledgling Terran colony. Only a few buildings, 3 adults, and a seemingly endless number of hatchlings. An easy mark by all accounts.

The initial attack succeded beyond all expectations. We had prepared for the adults to at least fight back, futile as it might have been, but instead, they surrendered immediately and offered access to any riches and/or resources they might have that we wanted. We took it all, their food, their meager savings, even the children's toys. Some of the other crew had families back home and they figured the children would appreciate some new toys. It was to be expected, the Terrans had no chance against us in combat anyway.

Then... Then we did something I will never forget, and never forgive myself. We started killing them. The passive and submissive approach they used infuriated us and made us feel like lesser pirates. We grew angry and someone fired the first shot at the oldest of the 3 adults. You know how it goes once the smell of fresh blood reaches the nostrils of our race, it spurs a killing frenzy that will only be satiated by more killing. So we killed them. Kept a few of the hatchlings to sell as slave labor on the pirate stations. We left one of the adults alive, dragging himself across the ground toward a group of dead children. We figured he would die anyway, the terrible wounds inflicted upon him and the wailing agony with which he cried as he held the small dead bodies in his arms convinced us we had broken him completely. We left to set up camp several kilometers away before we returned to the ship in the morning. We didn't think anything of the curses the lone adult was now bellowing into the night, promising violence and horrors beyond comprehension to those responsible. We laughed at the idea of a Terran doing such things.

We never made it back to the ship. While drinking and celebrating our conceived great achievement, We heard a death rattle from one of the sentries and rushed over to find him on the ground, cut up from tail to throat. The sight was so horrible that several of the crew vomited, but I noticed the splatter of red blood among the grainy purple of the dead sentry. We were only a few minutes into the search for the culprit when a blood-curdling scream rang through the night from the other side of the camp followed by a loud and audible *CRUNCH* of breaking bones and ripping skin. It only took a handful of seconds to reach the site, and once again most of us vomited.

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The rookie, posted on guard duty on account of being the newest crew member, was lying on the ground, bottom jaw tied to a big log and the top jaw ripped backward, splitting open the pirate's head. We quickly spread out to search for, what we now rightly assumed to be the lone adult we left, but a pattern quickly emerged. a few minutes into the search, a new sound of death would be heard and a new crewmember would be missing. We kept finding them whenever we ran to the screams, each sight more horrific and terrible than the last.

One was found with eyes and tongue removed, eardrums burst, and the ears themselves cut off as well, but otherwise let alive. We killed him out of mercy.

One was hanging from a tree. Or rather, half of him was hanging from the tree. The rest was on the ground as if a great weight had pulled him in half.

One was found still alive, screaming for dear life as the large fire we had built consumed him alive.

The Captain was found with his genitals sliced off and forcefully stuffed down his throat, effectively choking him.

This pattern kept up all night long until I and 2 others were left. At this point, we were standing with our backs to each other in the middle of the camp, surrounded by the mutilated and maimed corpses of those we had called brothers just hours before. Right next to us was the cage with the hatchling prisoners, who had not said a word throughout the entire ordeal. I risked a glance at the little ones and saw all of them staring into the same spot in the dark. I saw nothing when I followed their gaze, but I kept staring at the same spot in the hopes of it revealing... SOMETHING!

Then he came. The caregiver we had left alive. He was badly wounded, limping and bleeding both from the old wounds and several new ones he must have suffered during this psychopathic rampage. But despite that, the look in his eyes is what froze my feet to the ground and made my muscles tense up to the point where I couldn't move. I have never seen such murderous rage and fury in any being before, or since. It was unhinged, primal, like a crazed predator backed into a corner.

He stalked towards our group when he realized he had been found, his eyes roaming over our group. Searching, prodding, looking for any weakness or opening. There was no calm, no reason, barely any sentience behind those eyes. I had thought we had broken him, and in a way we had, but not the way we wanted. One of the others saw him and made a noise. That was all it took. The wounded caregiver howled in primal rage as he flung himself at my crewmate, the kitchen knife in his hand flashing in the light of the fire before he reached him. I never saw anything like it, he was stabbing indiscriminately and with wild abandon while he held on to his victim, his weapon arm working like a piston to drive the weapon into the already dead body.

My other crewmate leaped up and started running away while screaming in terror, leaving me with the crazed primate who now turned his eyes on me. I still hadn't moved, I couldn't my body refused to listen to me, the terror overwhelming the conscious mind. Instead of leaping, he started slow walking toward me, and I still couldn't move.

I was ready to accept my fate when a tiny voice broke the sound of fire and silence of the night.

"Please stop"

It was one of the hatchlings, a small female if I was not mistaken. She was still clinging to the stuffed toy she had clung to since we abducted her and the others. The caregiver stopped moving when she spoke and started blinking, first slowly, then rapidly. Then he shook his head violently as if shaking off something. When he moved again, it was towards the cage with the hatchlings. He cut open the ropes on the door and opened it, the hatchlings huddling around the caregiver, hiding behind him in an attempt to put something between them and me.

"Where's your ship?!"

The question was directed at me, and it took me a moment to realize it was the caregiver that had spoken. Without a word, I lifted a claw and pointed him in the right direction. He nodded, picked up the little hatchling that had spoken, and started leading all of them away from the massacre. It took months before another ship came by and I could book passage back to civilization.

Why did I tell this story?? Because of this, rookies. I was allowed to live because of the empathy of a Terran hatchling. Not empathy toward me, but toward the caregiver that was getting lost in his mind. While it saved my life, it was not the intent of the little one, though it is a side effect for which I will be eternally grateful.

Now tell me, rookies. What was that I heard about a planned attack on the Terrans, when I first sat down?