---Hostage---
---Taqar’s perspective---
---[2706 Terran Calendar/7 years BF]---
I’m dying...
I am starving to death in this cell.
My feathers lost their iridescent lustre weeks ago.
I began moulting a few days later.
At first, I raged! I shrieked at my captors that they would regret this, when my Clan found out where I was they’d be sorry! I puffed myself up with self-importance and asked them if they knew who my mother was! Not that they could understand me, having taken my translator.
I was such a fool!
Of course they know who my mother is! Knowing who my mother is will be exactly why they kidnapped me and carried me to this planet [thousands of lightyears] away from R’qal!
Weakly, I stand and *pit* over to the bars.
I look to the enormous Threndian, sitting with his back turned to me, who appears to be the leader of this gang.
“Please…” I rasp “…you need to give me some real food! I’ll be quiet, I swear, but I’m going to die if you keep only feeding me this!” I hold up one of the dried fruit pieces that are the only sustenance they’ve provided since taking me hostage “R’qal is a Class 7! This can’t be from more than a Class 3! Whatever you want for me, you surely understand that you’re less likely to get it if I die, don’t you?” I plead, almost sobbing.
The giant, purple furred herbivore turns his head revealing one side of a thick snout, lined with three eyes and tipped with a blunt, two pronged horn, a tusk jutting up around [10cm] from his lower jaw.
“Tolzhasht, Rakalzh…” he rumbles in his guttural language, before turning away and making no move to remedy my starvation.
Defeatedly, I turn back around and slump to the floor of my cell.
I lie there for a long time… contemplating…
There is a strange peace in knowing that my death is imminent.
At least my suffering will end!
I would have liked to live a long life, I would have liked to find an accomplished woman to make me her lifemate, I would have liked to become a teacher and teach the next generation of R’qali boys how to be more than a pretty set of feathers… once I figured that out for myself, that is(!)
But none of it was to be…
It seems that, in the Mother’s wisdom and the Father’s mercy, it has been decreed that I am to die in this cell, barely more than a fledgeling and having accomplished nothing in my life!
*BOOM*
I look up, curiously, in the direction of an unfamiliar, resounding noise.
It’s coming from outside this room, elsewhere in the building.
My kidnappers look like they’re flying equally blindly to me, regarding what exactly the source of the sound is!
*BASH**CLANG**CLATTER* accompanied by the sound of screaming echoes from the same direction as previously.
One of them checks their holopad and vocalises “Tirrin! Tirrin iriwi!” sounding terrified!
“Udasht ovrum! Imasht orug!” orders the Threndian followed by a flurry of activity as his subordinates seal the heavy aluminium doors, grab their weapons and take position, facing the door.
The leader stands, drawing up to his full [4m] height, picks up a plasma[glaive] and a long length of chain with a heavy ball at the end of it before growling “Vrukash Terrazhe, bolzhah Terrazh!”
The sounds of violence steadily draw nearer followed by an eery still…
*BOOM* is the sound of the solid metal door being struck so hard that it dents and buckles!
The gangsters visibly quaver.
Whoever is attacking it must have some fairly impressive machinery to be able to deform the door like that!
*BOOM**BOOM* two more dents get put in the door from the other side.
Then there is a pause… before I hear the building roar of a plasmaweapon being ignited.
The tip of a blade appears through the door, around [2.5m] from the floor, and streaks a trail of molten aluminium behind it in a curved path downward. The blade is withdrawn and reappears at the start of the first slice, carving its mirror.
With a clatter, the exsected portion of the door is hurled several [metres] into the room!
What stands behind the aperture is not, as I had suspected, a piece of siege equipment but… a man!
More than [2m] tall, his powerfully built body covered in skin-tight, synthetic utility clothing in a rich royal blue with metal plates here and there, face obscured by a silvered helmet, wielding a [metre] of glowing white plasmablade, with a straight back edge and an artfully curved leading edge, and looking for all the world as if he just kicked three large dents in a solid security door… stands a Terran…
Is this a premortem hallucination?
The interloper points his sword in the direction of my captors and in a level voice that’s, nonetheless, able to fill the room better than the Threndian’s, proclaims “Wanchans… an wanchans, onli! Sarren dah!”
There are a few seconds of silence before the Threndian bellows “BOLZHASHT TERRAZH!” followed by a volley of laser and kinetic pulse fire being opened on the Terran… or… where the Terran was!
With unbelievable speed and agility he zigzags toward his main group of opponents! Clearing their cover in a bounding leap, he brings his blade across all three of their chests in a single slash, causing a burst of steam to erupt, their biofluids having been instantly vapourised by the superheated metal.
I briefly catch sight of a hole singed in the Terran’s uniform, a small patch of scorched skin visible beneath. He doesn't even seem to have noticed!
I didn’t even see him get hit by the laser!
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
He takes a flying leap toward the next two, seeming to become a cloud of spinning limbs as he does, and dispatches them, faster than I can comprehend with (I infer) two ruthlessly efficient swings of his sword.
The steam reaches me now and I dully register that I’m breathing in water vapour that was, until moments ago, circulating around the bodies of sentient beings.
The last gangster, aside from the Threndian, desperately throws their weapon to the ground, holds up their empty manipular appendages and pleads “Ik tri, Tirrin! Ik TRI! Ivilik im…” but that is as far as they get before the outraged Threndian kicks them to the ground and crushes their chest with one of his thick, powerful legs in a single fluid motion!
It seems he’s not a fan of surrender as a concept!
Looking down, furiously, at the man who just effortlessly dispatched all but one of his underlings, the Threndian lets out a deep, rumbling growl.
Unspooling the long chain, he dips his [glaive] with his left hands and takes the ball in his upper right hand, the handle in his lower right. He hurls the ball at the Terran.
If that ball is as heavy as it looks, it must be carrying enough kinetic energy to stove in that helmet and shatter even the calciate skull of a deathworlder!
The Terran appears to teleport out of the way and the Threndian catches the chain as it goes taut, swinging it around his head to return it to his opponent.
The Terran leaps the chain, severing it with a slash of his weapon as his entire body spins dynamically around its axis before he lands, safely, on his feet.
The ball bounces resoundingly across the large room, confirming itself to have been exactly as heavy as it looked as it smashes dents into the floor!
The gigantic gangster roars, ignites his [glaive] and takes a sweeping slash at the Terran, aiming the long blade for his centre of gravity.
The Terran evades though it looked close!
The next few moments are a whir as the Threndian viciously hacks, slashes and stabs, always hitting the empty space that the Terran was occupying the instant prior.
Threndians are one of the only gardenworld species able to match or even exceed Terrans in terms of the raw power output of their bodies so, as admirable as the Terran's efforts have been, I’m certain that it’s over for him as the cruel polearm comes sweeping down on him in a ferocious arc.
Impossibly, the man has blocked the blade with his own!
The plasmaweapons scream as they’re pressed into one another!
The Threndian commits more and more of his superior weight to the bind and the Terran's body buckles from trying to match it.
The three of the Threndian’s eyes that I’m able to see burn with gleeful malice… and then he stumbles forward!
The Terran spun his body, sliding out from under his opponent's guard, causing him to overbalance.
The helmeted man is placed just right to be able to bring down a single, clean strike on my captor’s thick neck.
The horned head is sent flying toward my cell, trailing a billowing cloud of steam behind it, and coming to rest facing me, allowing me to see all six of its eyes… now absent any light of life or intelligence.
The enormous, decapitated body crumples limply to the floor.
If what I just witnessed was real and not a vivid, end of life delirium… I no longer doubt any of the bedtime stories I was told of Terrans' Wartime combat prowess!
Panting heavily, the Terran looks to his collapsed foe then casts around, seeming to be looking for anyone he missed.
Having satisfied himself of his total victory, he extinguishes his weapon and sheathes it back at his hip… then he turns his helmet’s bright green sensor array… to me!
He walks toward my cell.
No… he couldn’t be that stupid, could he!?
Whatever your grievance with these gangsters was, you can surely see that I’m not one of them, can’t you!?
I’m caged and mostly dead!!!
Just leave and let me expire in peace!
He passes the severed head and stands at the bars, looking down on me with that inscrutably blank helmet.
Seeming to have decided he won’t let a little thing like a locked cell door stand between him and ending the last life in the room other than his, he places his knuckles back to back and inserts his fingers through a gap between the bars, wrapping his hands around them.
With a heaving effort, he leans to his left, extending his right arm and warping the metal bars out of his way with sheer, brute force!
Having created a Terran sized gap in the bars, he steps through.
He crosses the cell to where I lie, helplessly, wings sprawled on the floor, and drops to his haunches, still looking down at me with his blank mask of death.
Looking up at him, I croak “I’ve neither the energy nor the inclination to amuse you by begging for my life! If you wish to kill me, do it!” with far more composed defiance than I feel.
He reaches for a pouch on his belt and withdraws something.
Bringing a hand to my beak, he opens it to reveal… a piece of fruit…?
Without awaiting any input from my brain, my beak digs greedily into the ripe, succulent food!
It’s a wonderful mix of sour and sweet. It tastes more calorific than anything I’ve ever eaten!
While I eat, the thought that this fruit might be poisoned does briefly occur to me before I realise the absurdity of thinking that this man might need to resort to poison to finish me off!
Having eaten my fill without having come close to finishing the unfamiliar fruit (that I now suspect to be of deathworld origin) and feeling somewhat restored by the belly full of nourishment, I stand, shakily.
The man extends a hand to me, revealing a second gift; a small metal disc.
I take the translator and adhere it to my skull, just behind my infrared eye.
At this point, he takes off his helmet, revealing a scarred, Terran face.
The only surprising thing about the man's face is the expression it wears… his knitted brows are tilted upward in the middle, beneath his fringe of curly copper hair… the edges of his mouth tilt down and his bright green eyes a coloured by what my translator assures me is an expression of pitying concern!
“Thank you… for the food… and the translator, Sir…” I say, politely but warily, still not having entirely ruled out that he might simply be another kidnapper… If he is, he’s at least one willing to feed me! “If I may ask… what is your name?”
“My name’s Victor… I work for your aunt.”
---[2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF]---
“Terrans, unlike most gardenworld species, have an extremely short natural lifespan. Without the use of regeneration, most didn’t live much longer than a [century] and only lived that long because of their own, extensive repertoire of medical interventions!” I address the classroom full of boys, barely having shed the last of their childhood feathers and clearly thinking that being schooled is a waste of their time when they’re so pretty and come with such well respected pedigrees!
Surely, they’ll find a competent woman who can be educated enough for the both of them, right(?)
Trying to enthuse them somehow, I continue “The only surviving, naturally produced, sapient Terran species is also the most numerous, making up nearly 97% of the UTC’s sapient population. They call themselves ‘Homo sapiens’ which, in one of their ancient languages, means ‘Sapient Man’ or ‘Knowing Man’, though they far more commonly refer to themselves as ‘Humans’ which traces to a word meaning ‘Person of the Soil’, ‘of the Land’ or ‘of the Earth’. This is, not coincidentally, also the meaning of the word ‘Terran’. Though, you must be aware that ‘Human’ also covers the resurrected lineages ‘Homo neanderthalensis’ ‘Man of the Neander Valley’, ‘Homo denisova’ ‘Man of Denis’s Cave’, ‘Homo longi’ ‘Man of the Dragon River’, ‘Homo tshwane’ ‘Man of the Tshwane Scrubland’ and the newly sequenced and not quite yet resurrected ‘Homo lisri’ ‘Man of Lisri Village’… as well as numerous other lineages that, for the moment, remain extinct. Together, all resurrected Homo lineages account for a little under two percent of the UTC’s population with the last one and a bit percent being composed of entirely artificial biological species, collectively termed ‘uplifts’, as well as AIs, who have recently achieved recognition by the GU’s Parliament.”
I look around the classroom and see all of the bored faces looking back at me.
I sigh and persevere “Another thing you should know about Terrans…”
“Is that we’ve got a nasty habit of showin’ up unannounced(!)” interrupts a familiar voice.
I whip my head to the doorway curtain and see three familiar feet and one unfamiliar bionic.
The curtain is drawn back, revealing two familiar faces.
“Victor! Aunt Tcakq…!” I start, delightedly, before being cut short by the terrified shrieks of my entire class.
“Boys!” I snap, sharply, shutting them up “This man is only a Terran! The first thing I taught you about Terrans is that they are nothing to be afraid of! I used the phrase ‘overwhelmingly compassionate’! Why are you screeching like hungry hatchlings!?”
“To be fair to ’em, Taqie… I learned about great white sharks in school… learned about how overwhelmingly harmless to Humans they are, how we’re not fatty enough to be appetisin’ to ’em and, on the rare occasion they do kill us, it’s likely either ’causa mistaken identity or curious investigation… pretty sure I’d still’ve screamed my head off if one had poked its nose round the classroom door(!)”
“Teacher… what’s a [great white shark]?” asks Qratkaa, the son of a minor Clanmother and a middling student.
“A creature you’re clearly not ready to learn about if this is how you react to a friendly Human!” I shoot back, sternly.
I turn back to Victor and say “Well… since you’ve already disrupted my lesson, would you care to come in? Perhaps a little bit of live presentation will enthuse these boys to learn more about the most recent additions to the Galactic Union!”
He bares his teeth and, stooping low beneath the R’qali ceiling, steps inside the classroom, followed by my aunt.