When humanity first encountered the Galactic Commonwealth, they barely created a stir. Primitive by comparison to the other members of the Commonwealth, they were viewed with pity as they pathetically struggled to expand and create colonies in their immediate vicinity.

Most of the far more advanced members quickly forgot about the embryonic Human Republic, while others took an interest in a detached, clinical view and studied them from afar, hoping to draw parallels and observations of their own species' development into a space-faring civilization millennia ago.

My species, the Eleani, took a greater interest in the fledgling interstellar polity and watched them with benevolent pride as they took their first steps into the void. We felt an immediate kinship to the humans, as they were the most like us in appearance and anatomy of all the other members.

The only real differences between our two species are that they do not have tails or fur, and we still maintain an arboreal lifestyle. We viewed them as cousin-kin and had a vested interest in their development as we kept tabs on them from afar.

We watched as they bravely flung themselves out into the unknown to explore the great wonders at their fingertips, undeterred by the loss of ships and lives that are inherent in traversing the dangerous void. They seemed to have an endless curiosity about anything and everything, with human scientists cataloging everything they could see.

They hunted for the lowliest alien microbes on desolate worlds and traversed dangerous stellar nurseries to find exotic particles. Human explorers would pick a random star and head towards it “just to see what was there.”

Human traders plied the established trade routes and created their own through uncharted space, selling their high-quality goods to newfound markets hungry for the unique items they offered.

We became enamored with this new species, and after a few years of watching humans, we opened official diplomatic channels and engaged in first contact protocols. My sirefather was the first appointed ambassador and helped to form a relationship with our cousin-kin and quickly found himself seduced by their optimism and lack of duplicity.

He quickly became their most ardent supporter within our government and would tell me many stories of these humans when I was a youngling. The one that stuck with me the most was when my sirefather was describing how a Xenxin ship filled with younglings on a school trip for a science class got trapped by an uncharted subspace rift that suddenly appeared along their course.

I could sense the awe and sadness in his voice as he described how dozens of human ships answered the distress call. Scout ships, cargo ships, pleasure craft, science vessels, and even human pirate ships responded.

He recalled seeing the sensor recordings as the human ships courageously tried to rescue the younglings, with many being outright destroyed or critically damaged in their attempts. It did not matter to them how many ships got destroyed or damaged; they just kept trying despite the dangers.

As the losses mounted, Commonwealth warships finally arrived, ordering the human ships to abandon their efforts as it was too dangerous to continue. They ignored the commands of the warships, telling them to procreate with themselves.

"There are kids on that ship. If you are not going to help us, then stay the hell out of our way." was one of the nicer messages the lead Commonwealth warship received. The rest were not so diplomatic, and the human pirate ships even locked weapons on the warships, threatening to fire on them if they interfered.

After a few hours, they finally managed to rescue the twenty-five Xenxin younglings at the cost of six destroyed ships, a dozen others seriously damaged, and almost a hundred human lives lost.

“You could not help but be in awe of their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the younglings of another alien species. They were undaunted by the dangers, and as soon as one ship was destroyed or critically damaged, another would take its place. It was an inspiring sight to behold.” My sirefather said after he finished the story.

It was this incident, among other examples of humans coming to the aid of alien worlds and ships in times of calamity and distress, that finally convinced our government to covertly assist the humans in their ongoing development.

It is illegal in the Commonwealth Charter to give primitive species technology that they had not yet developed, but our government skirted these restrictions by several means, such as Eleani ships “disappearing” or being “destroyed” by random anomalies near Human Republic space and surreptitiously being recovered by human agents.

The Xenxin went even further, and in gratitude for the human sacrifices made in saving their younglings, they sent an unmarked, stealthed courier ship into human space. Outfitted with their most advanced technology and a data repository of all their knowledge and technology, the Xenxin also provided coordinates for worlds they had cataloged that were suitable for human colonization.

In the following 40 cycles, the Republic advanced rapidly with access to the technologies and knowledge secretly provided to them and made a three-hundred-year leap, much to the dismay of the Commonwealth. Hearings and investigations were convened at the highest levels of government, but lacking proof that any of the members purposefully uplifted humans, the matter was closed after a few cycles.

By this time, the Republic of Humanity had expanded greatly in size and, with the infusion of technology, was now considered a middle power. Their ships were everywhere engaged in trade, scientific endeavors, and exploration, heading ever deeper into unknown space.

Our two species became great kin-friends, and together with the Xenxin, we tried in vain to lobby the Commonwealth to grant membership to the Human Republic, which was vehemently denied by a majority of the members.

My sirefather was livid, but the humans seemed to take no offense at the rejection. The human ambassador seemed to take it in stride, remarking, “As long as they keep buying our goods, we couldn't care less what they think of us. It is only the Eleani and the Xenxin who have shown us friendship, and only your opinion matters to us.”

Such was the situation in 2172 A.D. when the Insectoid Empire launched another cycle of expansion and encroached on Commonwealth space. The Insectoids were a hive mind composed of trillions of 1.5-meter-tall wasp analogues with vestigial wings, except for the queens, who could still fly.

They would periodically expand and engage in short, sharp conflicts with the Commonwealth and other nonaligned interstellar species and seize the territory they desired, ceasing hostilities when they took what they wanted.

Since most members of the Commonwealth considered the planets the insectoids preferred unfit for terraforming, we would simply withdraw and allow them to have those worlds, hoping to avoid a large-scale conflict. It was impossible to engage in diplomacy or negotiations with the Insectoids as their worldview was so radically different, and we could not bridge the gap between our individual nature and their hive mind.

The only communication the Insectoids ever had with the Commonwealth was just two words: "Give." and "Leave." Failure to do either resulted in combat, and their ships were exceedingly powerful, especially their Hive ships, which made our largest battleships seem like youngling toys in comparison.

The Commonwealth, expecting this wave to stop like the previous ones had once the Insectoids had the planets they desired, was unprepared when the Insectoids penetrated the border regions and thrust right into the heart of Commonwealth space.

The Commonwealth fleet found itself out of position, and six thousand Insectoid cruisers swarmed out and wreaked havoc, destroying every ship they came across, while sixty of their massive Hive ships glassed entire worlds that were now behind the frontlines, wiping out every living thing on those planets without mercy.

Within two solar days, the entire outlying border sectors of Commonwealth space were devoid of all life and ships, and eight member species were exterminated at the cost of over a hundred billion dead. The Commonwealth fleet was mauled by the Insectoid fleets, losing thousands of warships.

The battered fleet had been reduced to half of its former strength and issued desperate calls for the remaining members to reinforce the beleaguered main fleet with our planetary self-defense navies.

The Eleani and all the other surviving members sent what we could and hoped that it would be enough. The humans, having caught wind of the attack, sent an official government communication with an already signed Treaty of Alliance and Mutual Defense Pact.

The Commonwealth Government arrogantly ignored it, and the ambassador assigned to the Humans did not deign to even respond to their offer of help. That was the first and last offer by humans to help the Commonwealth in their time of need.

The Commonwealth fleet, reinforced with the additional member ships, now numbered over two thousand ships of the line and launched a coordinated assault across several fronts. Initially, the daring counteroffensive met with incredible success.

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The Commonwealth fleet fought a series of battles and routed the Insectoids, pushing them back over many light years and managing to destroy over three thousand Insectoid cruisers. It seemed as if the fleet was winning, but that was before the sixty Hive ships entered the fray and turned the tide of battle back in their favor.

Within two hours of the Hive ships entering the fray, the Commonwealth fleet lost almost a thousand warships, while only managing to destroy an additional three hundred insectoid cruisers and one Hive ship.

The massive Hive ships were heavily armed, and their tough organic hulls required a tremendous amount of weapon fire from dozens of ships to have any hope of damaging them, let alone destroying one.

Faced with such overwhelming odds, the surviving ships of the Commonwealth fleet disengaged from combat and made an orderly withdrawal, heading towards the Core Worlds and hoping to entice the insectoids into following the fleet.

The Core Worlds were protected by powerful networks of defensive fortifications, and the admiralty planned to lure them into a trap and bracket them between the heavily armed defensive systems and the remaining Commonwealth fleet.

The Insectoids followed them to the outskirts of the core system the fleet had reformed in and stopped, lingering in the system's heliopause. The Commonwealth fleet sent out multiple squadrons of fast-attack ships and engaged in hit-and-run raids, trying to elicit a response to the attacks and draw them deeper into the system and within the range of the defensive networks.

After repeated Commonwealth attacks, the Insectoids did the one thing the admiralty had not planned for and entered null space instead of giving battle. The Insectoid fleet laid in a course and headed towards the untouched periphery of Commonwealth Space, where another four members lived, including the Eleani.

I remember sitting in our den with sirefather and birthmother, listening to the holo wave continuously broadcasting our government's plea to the Commonwealth to come to our defense. The news organizations had shown us drone sensor recordings of two member systems that were along the new Insectoid axis of attack and the aftermath.

Their home worlds and colonies were glassed, over twenty billion were confirmed dead, and the Insectoid fleet was on a direct trajectory to hit our system next in five solar days. They put on a brave face and acted like things would be okay, but I could sense their fear and see the meaningful glances they were sharing with each other.

Our entire world held its breath as we finally received a response the next day from the Premier of the Commonwealth, who looked like a broken being as he avoided looking at the holo recorder and, in a shaking voice, read a prepared statement from the datapad on the desk in front of him.

“On the advice of my admirals and my cabinet, I regret to inform you that the fleet cannot come to your aid. We will detach what remains of the Eleani contingent that you have sent and allow them to return to defend your system. They will arrive in six solar days, and we send them with our hope that you will survi- '

The transmission got abruptly cut off, and another video came on the holo wave screen, this time showing the President of the Human Republic sitting in her office with a resolute expression. She gazed into the holo camera as if peering into our terrified souls, and in a voice that seemed to promise both death and salvation, she simply stated, “We are the Republic, and we will answer the call. Hold on, we are coming.”

As abruptly as the transmission appeared, it ended just as fast. The holo screen returned to the news studio, where the anchors were sitting in quiet shock. Off camera, we could hear a tumult of shouting and crying before the screen went black and the network logo came up.

Birthmother fainted, while sirefather seemed not to notice and leapt out of his chair and hung from the ceiling branches, hooting and swinging around like a crazed youngling. I just sat there shaking, overwhelmed by the enormity of our impending doom, and could not understand his reaction.

He finally noticed birthmother and leapt over to help her. As she sobbed in his arms, he looked at me and seemed to notice my confusion.

“You are wondering why I am overjoyed at the prospect of our human friends coming to help us. I know that in school you learned humans are a middle power, but have you ever wondered why we have seen none of their warships in space?” he asked me and Birthmother.

I didn’t answer, still wondering what a middle-power warship could do against the insectoids while birthmother collected herself. He continued speaking, “I have seen one of their warships, and I have seen the records of their history of warfare against each other. There is not a single species in the Commonwealth that could stand against them, despite the technological differences.”

He paused, considering his next words. “The nice, friendly humans we know have another side to them, a side that no one else has ever seen in a spacefaring civilization. People like the humans tend to destroy themselves before reaching space, and against all odds, they made it through the great filter.”

His eyes took on an expression I had never seen before, and he stood up and grabbed me by the arms as he continued speaking.

"The human ambassador told me a saying after the Commonwealth rejected our membership proposal to grant them entry. He saw my anger, and he sought to calm me down. He declared that there is no greater friend and no worst enemy than a human being. God help them if they ever attack us or our allies."

Sirefather walked me over to the couch and sat me down next to my birthmother. "It was not a boast, my child. It was a truth that was spoken with a conviction I had never heard before from another sentient being. You know the sacrifices they made to save those twenty-five Xenxin younglings they did not know that day. Imagine what they would do for their friends and allies.”

He bent down and embraced us both.

“Fear not. Our friends are on the way, and they will save us all.” The belief with which he uttered these words seemed to reach into my heart, and I felt a peace overcome me. I quietly sobbed tears of hope and joy in his arms, believing that we might not die after all.

For the next two solar days, we waited for the humans to arrive as we watched the sensor drones record the inexorable march of the Insectoid fleet towards our home world. Understandably, our government would periodically send inquiries every few hours asking when the Republic ships would arrive.

The only response was a cryptic, one-sentence response: “We are coming.” Finally, on the third solar day, one solar day before the expected Insectoid arrival, we received a transmission from the outskirts of our solar system. “We are here.”

A transmission asking our government to grant permission for the Republic fleet to enter Eleani space followed this. The government quickly gave permission, and every newsholo camera, sensor buoy, and satellite pointed at the expected coordinates. It felt like time itself was standing still, and the very heart of the world seemed to have stopped beating as billions of Eleani waited for their last hope to drop out of null space.

And then it happened. First in small numbers, then dozens, then hundreds of null space exit flashes started popping up all around the near space of Eleania, glittering our sky like new stars even on the daytime side of our world.

The holo news channel we were watching had a ticker on the side displaying the number of ships and the estimated classes and tonnage, and the numbers increased upward so fast it was almost impossible to follow.

Sirefather and birthmother were hugging each other and crying tears of joy while I stood there in open-mouthed shock at the numbers being displayed on the screen: 3,250-3,860-4,789-5,347-6,120-6,456, until the numbers slowed down and finally settled on 6,894 ships.

The cameras panned back to take in the enormous fleet, while sensor drones did flybys and forwarded the visuals down to every Holo screen on Eleania. There were dozens of massive carriers, with thousands of starfighters swarming around them, over five hundred battleships, and thousands of cruisers, destroyers, frigates, and other ships that were classified as unknown since the scanners couldn’t get reading on them.

Another transmission from the fleet came over the holo screen, showing a human male in a military uniform standing on a massive bridge surrounded by hundreds of humans working on data screens in the background.

“People of Eleania, we are the Republic fleet, and we help our friends in their time of need. We honor our commitments, and I promise you that if the insectoids prevail, it will only be because every Republic ship in this system has been destroyed. We are Republic, and we do not break faith. Please listen to all orders from your government and find safety wherever you can. Good fortune to you all. Admiral Thompson out.”

The transmission ended and returned to the visuals of the fleet, which was already spreading throughout the system in individual task forces centered on the carriers, while the destroyers started dropping hundreds of small items out of their stern on randomized paths.

The news anchors started theorizing on what the Republic ships were doing while retired military pundits tried to make sense of the Republic's dispositions, especially focusing on the unknown ships that were still defying all attempts at being scanned.

This went on for hours, and we ate a feast of our favorite foods for night-meal, knowing that it might be our last, despite the hope that humans would save us. One by one, we drifted to sleep while listening to the droning of the increasingly urgent news playing in the background.

A few hours later, I was startled awake by hands gently shaking my shoulders. “It has begun. The Insectoids are here.” Sirefather stated plainly before leaving my room to join Birthmother in the den.

I leapt up and followed him, taking my usual seat on the floor in front of the holo screen. There was a split screen showing live images and video of the Republic and Insectoid fleets facing off against each other in the outer system, while another screen showed a top-down representation of the battle lines. There were thousands of icons in the green and orange colors of friendly and enemy ships from a sensor drone positioned above the plane of the ecliptic.

On the Republic side, the battle fleets took up their assigned positions, while the unknown ships disappeared into null space in hundreds of flashes of light. The carriers disgorged their thousands of starfighters, while entire battle wings of the massive battleships, with their cruiser escorts, burned their engines at battle speed and headed towards the flanks.

Hundreds of destroyers and frigates screened the battle lines, ready with their point defense systems and advanced countermeasure suites to protect their bigger brethren and intercept any sudden attacks.

The insectoids employed the same tactics they always have, which were simple but effective: a solid formation with all fifty-nine Hive ships compacted into a rough sphere to provide mutual fire support. The Insectoid cruisers provided close cover on all sides as a screening force, with a tail end of reserves stretching out behind the formation, looking like a medieval knight’s fist covered with a mailed glove.

Unexpectedly, the Insectoid fleet sent a transmission to the Republic fleet, which was one word in Commonwealth standard:

“Leave.”

The Republic responded about a minute later with a video showing a human setting fire to a nest with a flamethrower as hundreds of wasps poured out, only to be incinerated while a happy jingle played in the background.

The smiling human then turned towards the camera and stuck out a fist, pointing his thumb up. Underneath the video in the text were the words, “Trouble with wasps? No problem! Call the Republic Fleet to take care of it today!”

The Republic fleet blasted the video on every frequency, bandwidth, and channel known to the galaxy at large, and their response got transmitted to every holo screen on Eleania as well. Both sirefather and I started laughing uproariously while birthmother wrung her hands together in apprehension, looking at us disapprovingly.

It seemed like an eternity as the Insectoid hive-mind processed the Republic's response. The Insectoid Fist formation suddenly sped up towards the Republic battle lines and started firing particle beams and missiles.

The Battle of Eleania had begun.