Humans, Porkies, and Homo Sapiens by Helena Sterling:

If you scan one of us the word “Human” will be displayed on your lovely little Federation scanner. The funny thing is that you will only see that result in the Federation. Everywhere else in the galaxy you will see something else. You will see the words “Homo Sapiens”. That is our “official” taxonomic classification. More precisely, our exact classification is:

Kingdom: Animalia

Phylum: Chordata

Subphylum: Veterbrata

Class: Mammalia

Subclass: Theria

Infraclass: Eutheria

Order: Primates

Suborder: Anthropoidea

Superfamily: Mominoidea

Family: Hominidae

Genus: Homo

Species: Sapiens

That’s how we define ourselves. If you will notice nowhere in there do you see the word “Human”. “Human” is just a convenient name we call ourselves. That’s right. It’s just a convenience, a luxury that we allow ourselves when we have the opportunity.

Is this just a game of semantics? Usually the answer for that would be yes… Usually.

It’s usually just semantics because we desperately, with every fiber of our beings, strive to be and to remain “human”.

Why?

Well, my little fucking idiots, it’s because nobody wants pure unadulterated “Homo Sapiens” around, not even us… especially us.

When our humanity slips and we revert to “Homo Sapiens”, it isn’t pretty.

In the Terran year 2997 when the Yellowstone Super-volcano unleashed hell upon Earth and thus the entire Sol System, “humanity” fell. In a flash humans were gone and where each and every human once stood a creature with the classification “Homo Sapiens” took their place.

The result was a decade of Hell. Only around 2% of our entire population survived. What did we survive exactly? Well, we survived the worst of all threats, ourselves.

You met them, by the way, our friends the “Homo Sapiens”. On Red Sunday when you launched our fleet in a completely unprovoked attack on a wounded Republic, the Terrans removed their humanity like a stuffy sweater on a warm day and what they unleashed upon us was “Homo Sapiens” unencumbered by the fuzzy fleece that we like to wrap around the true nature of our species.

I needn't remind anyone of what happened next.

And now, you for some unknown reason want to play with them again. Oh, not the Republic, even you idiots learned that lesson. You want to play with something even worse, Homo Sapiens.

That’s right. We “porkies” are Homo Sapiens as well… Surprise! Didn’t see that one coming did you?

Oh it’s easy to forget that we are exactly the same species as the Terrans. When we came to the Federation we were defeated, dispossessed, hunted to near extinction, terrified, exhausted… We were all too happy to leave “Homo Sapiens” behind and devote ourselves to being good little Federation boys and girls bowing and scraping all the way.

Yeah, we were beaten, beaten within an inch of our lives… by the fucking Terrans! We were defeated after fighting those… monsters… for ten fucking years. Even though we were defeated we are the only motherfuckers in the entire fucking galaxy that can honestly say we almost won. The Empire can’t say that. The Collective can’t say that. The Federation certainly can’t say that. We can.

The only thing that has ever beaten us was the Terrans and I got a little news for you assholes. You aren’t Terran. You aren’t even close. You want to kill us? You want to drive us to extinction? Go ahead and try motherfuckers! The Terrans tried. Hell, an actual fucking planet tried. Fuck! The whole solar system tried.

Guess what. We are still here.

Trapped out in the blackness of space, abandoned to starve, we didn’t die. Driven from our Arcologies and stations and into the clutches of the real raiders, we didn’t die. Thrown into true, total, genocidal war ahead of “the real troops”, we didn’t die.

We did what we had to do. It wasn’t always pretty. It wasn’t always “nice” or even “human”. We like to pretend that the hatred that we receive from the Terrans is unjustified but we all know there are a lot of very good reasons why they despise us. We did terrible things...

But, we didn’t die. We survived.

That’s the thing about Homo Sapiens. They have an overwhelming drive to survive. It’s not that they, that we, are inherently hateful, bloodthirsty, or evil. We’re something worse, a lot worse. We are survivors. We will do anything and I mean absolutely anything in order to survive. Hate can cool. Blood-thirst can be slaked. Evil can be appeased. Survival is uncompromising, merciless, amoral, relentless, and never ending.

You fuckers have absolutely no idea what you have done, not what you are doing, what you have done. It’s already too late. It’s already happening.

Right now, as you are reading this, an old man is tearing up the floorboards of his house to retrieve the cases hidden underneath. An old woman is going into her attic to find an old footlocker. Across the street a family is having a very calm very serious talk around the dinner table. Someone else is going through all of their cutlery testing the heft of each knife. In countless garages, hobby-facs are firing up, our “ancient” lathes and milling machines are coming to life, and soldering irons are warming up. Across human worlds certain electronic components and other hardware are flying off the shelves and yes, even a literature nerd like me knows exactly what those components are and what they are for.

You have just knocked the humanity clean off of us porkies and you are going to find out exactly why the Terrans hate us.

There is no stopping it now.

During my time on the White Star I met one person who’s humanity you robbed. That one “inhuman” hominid killed millions of you in return. That’s not a figure of speech. She literally killed you by the millions.

That was just one “inhuman” representative of the species Homo Sapiens. You morons just potentially made millions of her.

You know what, I don’t even feel sorry for you. You fucking deserve what is about to happen.

A little while back I wrote this little piece entitled “Hate”. I was really proud of it. I honestly thought that I was saying something important.

It turns out that it’s bullshit, nothing but the ramblings of an entitled pampered little girl. Now, I get it. Now, I understand. It only took one call home. It only took a few names, people that I’ve known, people that I’ve loved…

Now, I truly understand.

I hate you. I hate all of you that are behind this. I want to grab a gun. I want to grab a knife. I want to grab a ship and go screaming back home guns blazing but unfortunately don’t have the skills needed to make that anything more than just a hollow gesture.

Instead, I will have to fight the only way that I know how using the “weapons” that I already have. Every secret, every lie, every slimy back door deal you have ever done in your pathetic miserable lives will be hunted down and drug into the fucking light. It isn’t much but I have the equipment and the skills that will make it very hard to silence me. I will also track down every single person who has ever dealt with you in the past or will ever deal with you in the future and their secrets will be laid bare alongside yours! I will destroy you and anyone who stands with you.

I might as well get a new hobby. Those “porkie bastards” I’ve been kicking the shit out of here lately probably won’t survive the year anyhow. What I’ve been doing to them? That’s you now. That’s your family and that’s your business associates.

Oh, and Patricia Hu, I haven’t forgotten about you either you miserable cunt! I will make goddamn sure that EVERYONE knows exactly what sort of pathetic loser you really are. Blood drinker? Weigher of Souls? Please. You are nothing but a two bit thug who spread her cheeks for the real power players of the Sol War. You had to. You knew goddamn well that if you got grouped in with the rest of us you wouldn’t have lasted a fucking week.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Yeah, you might have had an “army” of irregulars and a “fleet” of captured freighters and shuttles but Jessica Morgan’s real army of professional soldiers would have had you with an apple in your mouth pretty fucking quick and you know it. I’ve looked at the relative troop strengths. (Attachment: The Blood Drinker Sucked Tak’s Dick for a Reason) You wouldn’t have stood a chance out there in the cold dark. Then again that’s not news for you is it?

Sorry to hear about your people over at the Embassy by the way… and the ones at your safe house… How’s that knife wound coming along? I do hope it didn’t get infected.

All of those people died from facing just two Terran Marines. I’m confused. Aren’t your people supposed to be badasses or something? I guess you can’t trust rumors, huh?

All it took was just two marines. Two.

That difference between irregulars and professionals I was talking about? There it is.

Exactly how many more of them will you have to face I wonder. Hope you have enough people. Do try to do better in the future, ok? I’m still a reporter after all. This won’t be much of a story if your guys just keep getting squashed like bugs. I’m really hoping for this big epic battle between you and Jon Wintersmith and so far it’s been quite the disappointment. There’s only so many ways I can write “She got her ass kicked and ran like the scared little bitch she is.” C’mon, do a girl a solid. I really need the views!

I do have to hand it to you though. Your people might suck and it seems that you can’t even fight one marine without getting stuck like the pig that you are but you can run like the fucking wind!

Might want to get used to it, bitch.

Finally, to my brothers and sisters…

Attached is a list of “pirate” relays that can be easily reached from the Federation network or with Federation hardware and the apps you will need to access them without getting caught. I, along with many others, will be posting news, information, intelligence, and whatever else we can grab. These relays are in Republic, Imperial, and independent space. If the Feds could shut them up they would have done so long ago. They will be a valuable source of information and a reliable means of communication in the days ahead.

May your bellies be full and may your children sleep safe! Void cloak you! Void guard you! Void guide you home!

***

Axr/Kal/Breen/Mortshana, with a very happy little saunter in her scurry, entered the work complex and quickly mixed a stimulant tonic before settling in behind her terminal.

It had been a very pleasant few days. She had never had a drone-companion before!

And she was right to practically throw herself on Hvaxi the way she did! She even had to hiss at another demi and even a proto-queen believe it or not! The nerve of that proto! She actually had the gall to try to waft her stink at him while they were dining together! Morthshana didn’t care if she was her molt-senior! That egg-bound... bug... almost got herself cut!

She pulled out a piece of card stock and caressed it with her antennae. It was a beautiful scent-gift! She had no idea that Hvaxi was so poetic!

Sourcemother! It was way too early but she really hoped this would develop into a full blown consortship maybe even…

She chuckled at herself. It wouldn’t do for her to get too carried away. There was no sense rushing. They both needed two more molts before they could… well… you know… Not that there weren’t all sorts of mind-meltingly fantastic stuff they could do in the meantime!

She savored the scent-gift once more and tucked it away.

Enough moon-gazing, she thought. It was time for work!

She, a full two minutes late, pulled up the morning’s intelligence reports and started to read her preferred media feeds from across the Federation, the Republic, and the Empire.

“Oh piss on my feelers...” she muttered aloud as a blast of surprise filled the air around her.

She transferred a document to a data-tablet and sprinted out of her office.

***

“Matriarch!” Mortshana shouted as she barged into the nest. “The Federation has been hacked!”

“Again?” The old insectoid chuckled. “I assume that the breach is worthy of your disruptive entrance?”

“You tell me,” Mortshana buzzed smugly as she presented the tablet.

“This Helena human certainly doesn’t perfume her words, does she?” the old matriarch chuckled. “Good solid report generation when it came to the actual intelligence as well! I wish all of my initiates were this adept.”

The matriarch scrolled through the pages, reading it carefully. Mother of All Eggs, she thought. This is really good. I wonder if she could be recruited...

“This Helena Sterling, what do you know about her?”

“At this moment, very little,” Mortshana said bowing her head. “I rushed here as soon as I received this data. I will do a proper investigation upon my return.”

“Firing before target lock, just like your adorable paramour,” the matriarch chuckled. “Was it devotion and urgency that drove you to such a hasty action or did you just seize the chance to get here first?”

Mortshana bowed just a bit too deeply with a little click-chuckle.

“It was purely my devotion, matriarch.”

The matriarch laughed.

“You are insufferable, Mortshana,” she chuckled. “Well consider the grubs snatched. Now, if it wouldn’t be too much of an encumbrance, why don’t you scurry off and actually do your job. I would deeply appreciate some more information about this Helena human, and if you could perhaps look into who might have actually accomplished the breach that would be fantastic. I would absolutely love to know who pulled this off.”

“Yes, matriarch,” Mortshana said bowing so low her antennae swept the floor.

“Oh get out of here, you!” the matriarch laughed.

With a mischievous flap of her winglets Morthshana darted out of the chamber.

“Ladies!” the matriarch exclaimed. “Those tasks I assigned, forget about them! I want some real information about this incident and don’t let that snotty little demi beat you to the punch again!”

***

On her ship, Patricia was lying in a medical bed.

“So, doctor?” she asked. “Why am I in such discomfort?”

“All of the activity undertaken after you administered the nanites disrupted their repair efforts, my Lady,” a silver haired female replied. “Fortunately, nothing vital was struck but there is significant soft-tissue disruption. It’s not serious but I will need to have programmable nanites configured in order to correct the damage. We have the nanites on board but I will have to have the program created and transmitted to us. It won’t take long, my Lady.”

“Good,” Patricia replied. “Come and get me in my quarters when you are ready.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

As Patricia left, she caught the doctor looking at her out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t like the look.

There were more glances and whispers as she proceeded down the corridor to her quarters. Her eyes narrowed. Something was amiss. Instead of going to her quarters she walked to the bridge.

When she arrived she distinctly heard “Shh! She’s coming!” from the other side of the hatch.

Scowling she strode onto the bridge.

Everyone jumped to their feet, clearly uncomfortable.

“Now what is it that you find so interesting?” she asked in a warm, pleasant voice.

The captain shifted uncomfortably.

“N-nothing, my Lady,” he said nervously. “We were just airing some internal issues that you need not-”

“It’s clearly s-something,” she laughed, her eyes cold. “Now share it with me or I shall cut it out of you.”

The Captain silently handed her a datapad and quickly stepped away.

Patricia started to smile as she read Helena’s article.

Then she stopped smiling and silently turned and walked away. Her speed increasing with every step she strode to the communications room.

“Get me Marrow!” she screamed.

***

“Well that certainly didn’t take long,” Jaxona said as she handed Xree~knExZ@@ his third cup of coffee for the morning.

“No, it definitely did not,” Xree~knExZ@@ growled. “This is a disaster.” Multiple media feeds, all of them losing their minds, were being projected on his desk. Ignoring the triumphant grins of the humans in the room he pulled up the report on the actual data breach.

“Fucking Kaarst,” he grumbled. “That moron’s lucky he got killed.” Only eight under qualified security staff… Eight! Void cursed pointless Federation regulations! There was absolutely no need for a shithole mining outpost to have a quantum terminal. A simple hyperspace relay would have been more than sufficient.

Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing and exactly where to hit. There was no footage or scans. All of that was expertly and thoroughly deleted. The only reason they even knew that they were likely Terran was from survivors that for some completely unknown reason chose to remain.

Who in their right mind would chose years of slavery over a golden ticket to the Republic? Don't they know what miners get paid over there? It was madness, useful madness but madness just the same.

“Any word from information security? They find anything?” he asked as Councilor DvKlos, one of the ones who was the most free with his opinion during those now very public closed door council sessions stepped onto a small podium on his holo-monitor, presumably to try to talk his way out of the mess he was in. I wonder how many seconds it will take before he tries to pin this on us? he thought as the reporters, many of them human, started to literally scream at him.

“We don't need them to figure this one out. You know it was Sheila Donovan,” Jaxona snorted. "No question about that. The only question I have is why the hell is she helping the pork-"

She was cut short by a blinding flash on the holo-terminal as Councilor DvKlos, the podium, the other councilors and government officials standing alongside him, and a good chunk of the wall behind them suddenly ceased to exist.

“Kv~@tk!!!!” Xree~knExZ@@ shouted in shock as the scene on his desk dissolved into chaos.

“What in the abyssal hells was that?” Jaxona yelled. Her “memories” didn’t know either.

“I told you! I fucking told you!” a triumphant human voice rang out. “I told you this would happen!”

***

“Once upon a time,” Inspector Vance said to Detective Freela. “Humans made real weapons, not those antiquated museum artifacts that the Terrans are so proud of today. I know exactly what was used.”

“What was it?”

“That, my dear friend, was an Old-Earth gauss recoilless rifle, a relic of that golden age.

“Aren’t gauss weapons already low recoil?”

“You are talking about the dinky little rifles you Feds use. This ain’t one of those. What we are talking about is a device that launches a large heavy projectile at insane speeds. It’s basically the barrel of a grav-tank’s primary weapon that you can fire from the shoulder.”

“Gods!” Freela exclaimed. “That’s insane! How is it even possible?”

“Well,” Vance said with a smug little smile, “What we did was take a significant portion of the overall energy produced by the discharge of the weapon to create an opposing force that cancels-” he paused as a ring-tone that Freela had never heard before came from his jacket pocket.

“Hang on,” Vance said as he pulled his personal communicator from his jacket pocket. “Talk to me,” he said in an odd tone of voice.

He listened in silence for a few moments and then replied.

“No, I understand,” he said. “No, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. It makes perfect sense to me. Fuck them… Heh… Really? That old bastard still alive? Damn… Heh, you have to fucking ask? I’m in. Just say when and where… Cool… Yeah, as a matter of fact I do still have it and a complete cassette of depleted uranium needles to go along with it... Yes! An entire cassette, still has the factory seals!… How much? Two fifty-five gallon drums of gutter oil if you must know… Hey, it couldn’t feed anyone if we were all dead could it?… You are actually getting pissed about this now? A bit after the fact wouldn’t you say?… Nobody starved because of it and now we have the cassette… You want me to return the lard? I can probably grab some… (laughs) You can’t be serious… Fine. Fine I’ll do it. Happy? Great! See you soon! Void guide you.”

He terminated the call and then turned to Freela.

“It’s been a real pleasure working with you,” Shawn Vance said as he stood up. “You have the makings of a real lawman and I don’t say that often, Freela. You take care of yourself.”

“Inspector what’s gong on?” Detective Freela asked knowing exactly what was going on.

“Take care, Freela.” Vance smiled as he, pulling out his badge and service blaster, walked towards the Chief’s office.