Igoshin II
The game of chess halts for a while as Igoshin gets his lunch delivered by drone. He starts to dig into a serving of some new fusional cuisine that takes elements of Chinese and Polish cooking, and the interview continues.
Q: You were still stationed in Mongolia when the fithp began their attack, yes?
A: Yes. I actually saw the contrails of a few missile launches in the distance, and at the same time there was what looked like a big-ass meteor shower. We started realizing what was happening fairly quickly - except for Iosef. He thought we were blowing the yascheritsy ships up until we told him otherwise. The ground was literally shaking from the bombardment, and here was Iosef going all 'Hmmm... awfully strange that we're getting an earthquake."
Q: How did your group react to the bombardment?
A: We glued ourselves to the radios, listening for anything. We kept on getting scattered reports; we didn't know at the time, but the slony bombardment had managed to damage towers and lines in parts of Siberia, making direct communication from Moscow almost impossible. It was like a game of telephone, but instead of "Applesauce" it was "Landings in China" that was getting all fucked up. We seriously thought for half an hour that they'd landed in Cyprus, until we realized why the fuck would they land in Cyprus.
He pops a pierogi in his mouth, then starts laughing.
Could you imagine just a bunch of slony in Cyprus, invading that tiny island for no reason? "Oh no, they've taken our olive oil!"
He settles down a bit, then clears his throat, a serious look on his face.
By dawn, we managed to get some things sorted out. Since communication was troublesome, any forces east of the divide created by the bombardment would do what the highest command in the area said, until they managed to get things fixed.
Q: And that was when Petrikov took command, I take it?
A: Yes. I thought we'd just be knocking pears from the trees with our dicks, waiting around the border until they fixed things, but Petrikov decided to take the initiative, the crazy bastard. I guess he didn't want to be pulling the cat's tail, waiting for the aliens to make their next move. I can see why, but none of us were happy with it.
So, Iosef bid his sugar-babuskha a tearful farewell, and we all went on the warpath to China, where the closest slony landing was.
Q: What did you do about the fithp's orbital superiority?
A: We drove by night, then covered our vehicles with whatever trash we could find before daylight, hoping the slony wouldn't notice with their orbital cameras. I suppose Petrikov was thinking that they'd be focused on keeping Chinese and Indian forces tied down on their own turf, and making sure the yashcheritsy stayed put.
It actually worked. We didn't get much harassment; one poor group got flattened, but that was an acceptable loss. The biggest problem was when we made it to the Chinese border.
Q: Why?
A: I suppose they were afraid we were coming to rescue the oppressed Russian minority. Laughs. We ended up waiting two days at the border before we could get escorted by the Chinese's own forces. They made sure we followed certain paths as we met up with the bulk of their army in that province with the spicy chicken.
He dips a pierogi in soy sauce, then pops it in his mouth.
I always wanted to visit China, but not like that. We got to see the devastation on the way through; roads smashed to bits, destroyed bridges... the worst was the flooding. A few dams got hit on the first day, and there was no way to evacuate before all that water smashed into a few hapless towns. I got to pass by the aftermath of one of the bigger ones being hit. Bozhe moi... all of those bodies floating in half-flooded streets... it was in the middle of winter, and it still smelled awful. I could only imagine the stench if it'd happened in the summer...
It was after crossing the border that we started getting harassed. A meteor here, some lasers to our jets over there... most of their defenses were being used to hammer the yascheritsy, but we still got our fair share of blood spilled. Trouble never comes alone, after all.
We were spread out after a while, moving in little isolated clumps that wouldn't be good targets for their meteors. We ended up grouping up with the battered Chinese forces a few dozen kilometers away from Chengdu. It was then that we learned that the Chinese leadership was coordinating with India and the Americans, planning a counterattack, and we were to play a part in it.
I didn't know what they meant by that, but I knew that my asshole was trembling with uncertainty just thinking about it.
-/-\-
A Scrapbook of the War for Earth, Chapter Four. Published June 16th, 2029
I saw the waters sweep their way down the valleys like the wrath of the world itself. I saw hills stripped bare of trees and soil, and an entire town washed away by the unceasing wall of water. From the hill I stood on, I could even see tiny bodies floating in the waves, carried for miles and miles down the river's course. Thousands of them, it seemed like. And it didn't appear to be slowing down at all, even though my home was more than a hundred miles away from the dam. I shuddered to imagine what would happen to the people living further out.
If there is any righteousness in this harsh universe, we will slaughter them all for the evils they have done to us.
- Yáng Xiaōyù, describing the flooding caused by the fithp's destruction of the Three Gorges Dam. It is estimated that the total casualties of the flooding, compounded by the invasion slowing down government response, killed six million people and displaced another thirteen.
Both we and the Tosevites seem to be at a total loss at this development. We saw some of their fighters blown of the sky by some phantom force, and the rumbling that occasionally reaches our ears seems to tell us that they are suffering the same attacks from the sky that we have.
One of the ground commanders tried another offensive yesterday, at what we assume is their main base in the Mumbai'i area. Fifteen thousand troopmales, backed by ninety killercraft and three times as many landcruisers.
No survivors. Just a green beam from the sky, followed by a steel rain that destroys everything in its shadow.
We are scared to move, fearing that they will strike us down. Some of the landcruiser crews have gone on a strange manner of mutiny, refusing to drive; they say that to do so is suicide. I cannot blame them, after seeing the wreckage of their fellow crews.
Contact with the rest of the Conquest Fleet has been sketchy at best, from what the officers have told us. A few more ships landed here, claiming that the Fleetlord had ordered an emergency total landing in all occupied areas, but we have not heard from them. For all we know, we may be one of the few surviving groups.
This limbo has been for nearly four days, but I feel it will not last. Between the frightening technology of these outsiders, and the barbarous insanity of these unnaturally advanced Tosevites, I fear that the destruction we have seen already is paltry to what shall come next.
- Troopmale Ssulok, after the fithp landings in Mumbai.
The world has ended. Don't believe me? Just look up.
- The last lines of Katagiri Tomoyuki's suicide note, two days after the fithp's orbital strikes on key parts of Japanese infrastructure.
You fuckers picked the wrong planet, you understand?! You really fuckin' think that a few rocks will keep us down?! It doesn't matter if you kill ten million of us; there's seven billion more waiting, and they all want you dead! You'll get a planet covered in corpses before you get slaves out of us! We'll hit ya with nukes, and if we run out, we'll get the gas, and if we run out of that too, then we'll shank ya with sticks covered in our shit! We're the masters of killing and conquering each other, and we're still around, still divided, so what makes you think you can do the fuckin' job?
- An unidentified soldier, after being captured by fithp forces in Shanghai.
I wonder what the Lizard word for clusterfuck is.
- An unidentified member of the Egyptian army after the Battle of Al-Jawf, four days after the fithp arrival. The battle between a disorganized Race offensive and forces from Libya and Egypt was briefly interrupted by a digit ship bombardment, before railgun fire from Sicily managed to destroy one vessel and prompted the others to retreat.
Winterhome must surrender before they become desperate enough to soil their own garden. If our current forces fail to roll them onto their backs, then the Foot shall do so. There is no way they will continue fighting after it falls, but we must hope that they will see sanity before it comes to such a dire tactic.
- Herdmaster Pastempeh-keph, after receiving news of strange activity near the landing sites in China, four days after arrival.
EARTH WILL BREAK
BEFORE WE DO
- A flag illegally hung over the Golden Gate Bridge, two days after the fithp's arrival.
-/-\-
Chandrasekhar I
Former Indian President Sivanath Chandrasekhar is a small, portly man. He greets me in his study, bald head shining as he sits me down and sinks into his own chair. Despite his amicability during our interview, I can see the strain behind his eyes.
Q: Thank you for agreeing to this interview, President Chadrasekhar.
A: You may just call me Chandra; I haven't been a President for nearly two decades.
Q: Very well. Mr. Chandra, the Indian theater of the war is considered one of the largest and most vital ones, both before and after the fithp came. I imagine it must have been a very busy time for you.
A: Indeed it was! I spent almost all of it in a hidden bunker, surrounded by advisors and telephones and computers, reading reports and delegating orders. When the Race made their landings in Mumbai'i, there was great unease in the bunker as we realized just how many of them there were. When they landed in Hyderabad, it was almost a panic.
Imagine it! A major trading city was in enemy occupation. Our forces were spread out through the country, and it took time to get them at the front lines. There was an influx of refugees as people began fleeing territory closest to where the Race was approaching; that meant millions of people clogging the roads and filling up the shelters. We'd prepared for it, but there's only so much preparation we could have done.
Still, we didn't prove a pushover. Our Gorkha regiments became the bogeymen for that alien culture. When we finally got organized, and began to make coordinated strikes against them, we actually began to win back territory in places. There may have been millions of them, but there were millions of Indian soldiers, backed up by a country a billion strong.
Nevertheless, we were relieved when the ceasefire came. It gave us time to bring in more troops, and start managing the refugee crisis that had been created by their arrival.
Q: What was your reaction to being left out of the negotiations?
A: Furious, naturally! They came to my country and killed many of my people, and despite the fact we were pushing them back, they still didn't dare speak to us as equals. It was a sentiment shared by many, and we voiced our complaint to the negotiating nations. Thankfully, they defended us on our behalf during the talks, though I'm not sure if it really matters, considering the, er, interruption.
He sighs, and sinks into his chair.
Of course it was our luck that we would be invaded by both of those alien powers. I could almost hear the glass crack as our nation threatened to splinter under the attacks. The highway system had been destroyed, and half the country went without power as the lines were cut and our power plants flattened. It took us time to realize we were sending orders to phantom contigents, slaughtered by their orbital weaponry.
It took two days for the dust to clear. By then, Mumbai'i shifted hands from the Race to the fithp, and close to three quarters of our armor and aircraft in Maharashtra had been destroyed. Three quarters!
I realized that this could be the end of India as a nation. The fithp were spreading like a cancer; some advisors said it would only be a matter of weeks before they had the entire subcontinent under their control, and that was optimistic. We had reserve forces up north, many of them, but there was no way we had enough to fight off the Race and fithp in a conventional war. If a conventional defeat of the fithp was even possible, that is.
We started talking to the other major powers, and realized that they were planning a counterattack in China, and desired to coordinate the same with us. But, the tactics and weapons that would be used shocked me to the core.
It took me three days to decide. Slowly, but surely, I came to a most inescapable conclusion.
Q: Which was?
A: We were losing the war. We were backed up to the wall, too beaten and disoriented to use any other option. If we wished to remove the cancer that was the alien presence in our nation, and to survive as a culture, then we had to cut out the flesh around the tumor.
Chandra grabs a hankerchief, and wipes some sweat from his bald dome.
It was the only option left, and yet I doubt I will ever be clean of the sins I had to commit on that day.
-/-\-
Petrikov II
Petrikov produces some reports, and idly leafs through them as he sips his tea.
A: This was going to be one of the riskiest, and largest, military operations in military history. The largest at the time, actually. Six nations were involved directly, with a combined force of five million men. Thousands of tanks and aircraft. And the deadliest weapons ever devised by Man.
Q: Why was such an effort needed?
A: The fithp had astonishing anti-air and anti-armor capabilities. Their lasers were accurate, long-ranged, and powerful enough to send their massive digitships into orbit. To overwhelm such forces required an overwhelming amount of missiles, more than any one nation could provide at such range. We'd depleted hundreds of ICBMs against the mothership, and we had to contend with the possibility that we needed to conserve the remainder as best as possible. The Americans had less concerns about their own stockpile, but they were also much further away; their ICMBs would be shot down by the time they could reach the targets.
At the same time, we needed to push out the yascheritsy before they managed to overcome their own shock, and start capitalizing on the chaos the slony had wreaked upon the planet. Some briefly debated actually requesting their assistance, but it was dismissed, as we feared they would take advantage of that scenario.
He pulls out a map of Southern and Eastern Asia.
Three primary targets. Mumbai, Chongqing, and Shanghai. Secondary targets in Suzhou, Yubei, Nashik, and Pune. Missile launches from our nearest silos and subs, and American subs that were closeby, along with launches from India, China, and, of all places, the surviving pockets of Pakistan. Once we had confirmation of initiations in the area, we were to then strike against yascheritsy territory with conventional forces in a lightning offensive, hitting them while they were still in confusion from the assault on slony territory.
Q: You were willing to destroy those cities?
A: Willing, yes. Did we want to? Not in the fucking slightest. We were hoping that we could take the regions back conventionally, up until two days before the operation. But in war, we don't always get what we want. For all we knew, this could have been the tipping point of the war. This could have been what decided whether or not humanity lives free, or is destroyed or brought under heel. For the sake of billions, and the future of untold numbers more, we had to sacrifice innocent lives. There were friends in those cities. Family. Loved ones.
We dropped pamphlets over some areas, in high-risk manuevers. Warnings to leave, but worded in a way that wouldn't arouse the suspicion of the slony. It was the most we could have done.
Then, a week after the landings, we launched the attack that weighs on so many hearts.
-/-\-
Connor I
Ret. Captain Ulysses Connor lives in the half-completed Chesapeake Arcology, a towering eco-friendly structure that will house up to ten million when completed. His living space is rather small and spartan; the only source of entertainment appears to be a roll-up tablet on the kitchen table. He makes me a cup of incredibly strong coffee, but makes nothing for himself as we sit down for the interview.
Despite being only sixty-three, he looks a hundred. His skin is thin and wrinkled, drawn tight over a face that looks more like a skeleton than a living man. What little hair he has left is white and brittle-looking.
Q: Let me be brief, Captain. You were stationed aboard the USS Rhode Island as its captain. During your nine years of service, you were in charge of twenty four Trident ballistic missiles, with a total yield of thirty megatons.
A: Yes, that is... that is correct. We were still using Trident-II missiles. Reliable... reliable weapons... range of nine thousand klicks, loaded with MIRVs each carrying eight warheads. I was proud to be a captain on that boat, to be safeguarded with the first and last line of defense in the ultimate worst case scenario. Proud...
Q: Captain, what did you do during the first month of the war?
A: We patrolled the waters, and stayed alert. It was determined that the Race posed no threat to us or other submarines, seeing as how powerless they were against other naval forces, so we were not ordered to go deeper and maintain a higher degree of silence. We were to keep secret... we were the card in the sleeve against them, in case everything else failed to stop them...
I… I can't say much. Much of it is still classified...
Q: Did your orders change when the fithp came?
A: Yes. We were ordered to enter lower depths, and we became almost completely silent. We believed that they likely couldn't detect our wakes, but we didn't take chances. We lurked in the Indian Ocean, skirting never-exceed depth. We were silent... we might as well didn't exist. We didn't communicate with other boats; we just waited for a command from higher up.
I didn't know how the war was going topside. I didn't know how many were dead... how much land was captured... we didn't even know if we were winning or losing...
Q: And then that order came?
A: When the order came, I followed through. I am... I am a professional soldier. I did... I did what I was ordered, because it was what... what I had to do. I fueled the missiles, prepared the codes, and... and launched.
We were to hit Mumbai and Pune. Hundreds of missiles were fired at that region, ours included.
For single moment, his eyes seem to mist over.
There must have... must have been millions of people still living there. Millions ran, but there were still millions in the cities.
S-silent in the bridge when we got reports of successful... successful strikes. The fithp were destroyed. So was Mumbai and Pune. Just... just gone, in flashes of light. Museums, libraries... turned to ash on hot wind. I entered the codes, and I... I destroyed a part of history. I turned the key, and I carbonized babies. I boiled the water in little children's eyes, and sloughed the fat off old women. We... we murdered millions, to save billions.
My first officer hung himself half an hour later. Many others did, or painted the walls with their brains. Days later, months, years... I'm the only surviving sub captain from that day. Everyone else couldn't bear what they had done.
His eyes harden, and he clenches his fist.
If I had to do it again, I would. I would do it again and again and again. But I don't lie to myself. I did an evil thing. It prevented greater evils, but that doesn't wash the blood off my hands. It doesn't make me a good man. I am an evil man, and I am evil so good men can live free.
But I hate myself for it every day.
Ulysses Connor committed suicide two hours after this interview.
-/-\-
Igoshin III
After the meal, we resume our chess game. Igoshin plays with renewed fervor, and I lose in eight moves. We change to a game of weiqi, and the interview continues.
Q: What was the battle at Chēngdù like, during Operation Yi?
A: Fuck, tough question. Lot of stuff to cover, from top to bottom. Well, first, we had to actually get ready for the offensive. Had to check our weapons, figure out who was directing who, and all that shit. There was a disagreement over whether or not Russians working closely to Chinese divisions should get immediate combat orders from Chinese officers, if only to keep things from becoming a clusterfuck in case we got hit hard.
Petrikov agreed, but I'm sure it was just to save time. As far as many of us were concerned, it was just us versus yascheritsy. No point arguing semantics, in my opinion. I'm sure a few would disagree, but fuck em.
I have to say, the Chinese soldiers were pretty intense. I knew a smattering of their language, and the impression I got from just about all of them was that they were itching for yascherit blood. A lot of them had family or friends in the city, and didn't know if they were alive.
As a Russian, I could understand. Didn't meant I wasn't offput.
Q: When did the offensive start?
A: After Chongqing.
Igoshin grimaces.
Of course the Chinese would be the ones to play it danger close; we were less than a hundred miles away. And they didn't even tell us what was going on until ten minutes before, because they were afraid the slony or yascheritsy would find out. My asshole puckered up like a snare drum when we heard over the radio. For all I knew, my dick was going to shrivel off before I even made it to Chengdu.
As soon as we saw the flashes light up the clouds, we rolled out. I have to say, I wasn't expecting what a cluster nuclear bombardment actually sounded like. Just one big bang one after the other, without most of the usual rumble. I wanted to be as far away as possible, as did everyone else.
There must've been a good two million of us, Russian and Chinese, slamming into the yascheritsy lines like a sledgehammer to the balls. I saw ground attack aircraft flying overhead like those huge flocks of birds you see in nature shows; it was like there were hundreds of them.
Igoshin imitates the sound of missiles launching, as well as the main gun of the Frogfoot aircraft used by Russian forces.
Bye-bye starships. By the time my squad and I even rolled into city limits, we could see dozens of wrecked landcruisers and troopcarriers littering the streets. The yascheritsy were broken up throughout the city, all wondering what the flying fuck was going on. They were freaking out over the nukes in Chongqing, I think, before we smashed into them.
Most of the time, fighting in a city takes forever. Just look at Stalingrad. But those fucking dumbass yaschertisy didn't know jack shit about how to fight in a city, especially against forces like ours. I heard they picked up on how to do it in the Middle East, but it definitely wasn't the case in Chengdu. General Winter also helped in that regard; I could see the bodies of frozen aliens everywhere, without a single scratch on them.
Q: Did you see combat?
A: Does a bear shit? My squad and I were clearing building after building after building like beasts, as if possessed by some kind of manic energy. Maybe it was the want to get to safety before the fallout of the destruction in Chongqing reached us, or maybe we were just baying for blood after seeing the mushroom clouds.
At one point, my gun jammed while trying to dislodge some from a corner shop, and I got shot in the chest. Five times. Thing is, yashcherit guns are tiny, like children's hunting rifles. Tiny guns for tiny hands on tiny things. And this wasn't the Patriotic War, where we didn't even have helmets; I was wearing thirty pounds of ballistic vest. Hurt like a toothpick to the dick, but I was still standing.
Next thing I knew, I was in the shop, screaming my lungs out and smashing some Rabotev's face in with my entrenchment tool. I was like some crazy caveman, stabbing and smashing with the thing to the point where it broke in half. I even picked some poor Halless up by the legs and swung him into his buddy, then beat the two of them down with a barstool.
By the time Iosef and the others came up and asked what the fuck I was up to, the shop was cleared.
He grins.
Igoshin: Nine. Yascherit: Zero.
Couldn't rest, though. We still kept on going, even after my ribs started creaking. It was two days before we'd finally secured the city, two battered starships retreating into orbit, and by that time I was ready to sleep on some rubble. Which I did. It was fairly comfy rubble.
Q: What happened after that?
A: We celebrated by helping ourselves to some of the local drinks we found in bars and taverns. The civilians who'd been trapped in the city started showering us with gifts, though they definitely favored the actual Chinese soldiers. There was singing in the streets, people smashing trashcans... beautiful anarchy. I saw Iosef disappear into a public bathroom with one of those old Chinese ladies in the tracksuits.
There was a degree of... solemnity, though. The Chinese soldiers definitely partied as hard as us, but it wasn't like our kind of debauchery. They weren't going "Yeah, we kicked their asses back into orbit". They were going "millions of my countrymen are dead, and I need to forget". Ever see a middle-aged soldier and a meter maid sobbing uncontrollably as they did the dirty against the wall of a coffee shop?
Q: Er, no.
A: Good. I hope you don't have to see that.
He sighs.
It was like Mongolia again for me, really. We'd kicked their asses back into space, and killed many of them in the process... but I knew the war wasn't over. Not yet. My asshole was still trembling with uncertainty, thinking about what the aliens were going to do next.
-/-\-
Wáng IV
Wáng twists his head to the side, allowing me to better see the hideous burn scars running up his neck.
A: You are wondering how I got them. I can see it in your eyes, the way they dart at these scars when you think I'm not looking.
Q: How did you get them?
A: I had the misfortune of being on a hill, serving as a lookout for any activity. As we needed to hide our forces from the ships in orbit, we had to resort to more old-fashioned methods. No lights were allowed. The radio was to be used sparingly, with messengers being preferred, if possible. And, instead of relying on satellites or aircraft, we needed more lookouts on the hills. So, despite being a medic, I ended up being a lookout, due to my good eyes.
It was a most beautiful night. The hills glistened with snow, and I could see clouds rolling through the valleys that we were hiding in. Birds flew about, and the occasional snub-nosed monkey would dart from tree to tree.
That was rather thought-provoking. Those monkeys didn't know that their world was being invaded; they carried on blissfully, ignorant of the titanic struggle all around them. What would a cow grazing at pasture think when it sees the starships coming from the sky, spelling the end of an epoch in the world's history? Earth was continuing on around us, doing what it had been doing for billions of years. The tide was still coming in, the island crabs were still doing their annual migrations, the grass still grew.
Then, I realized that our struggle was not as insignificant to the world as I initially thought. If the Race or the fithp won, then they would bring their own crops, their own beasts of burden, and slowly destroy and replace the wildlife of Earth, much as they intended to do to human culture.
Q: What happened while you were at the lookout?
I found myself staring at the hills where my home of Chóngqìng was. When the fithp landed in it, I grew fearful for my parents, as they were still in the city. I found myself wondering if they had been shot by those elephantine things, or killed in what must have been a great deal of rioting.
It didn't take long for me to start wondering why the birds had stopped chirping. I ended up saving my eyes when I looked to the side, wondering what was going on.
Then the first initiations lit up the sky, and I felt a searing pain. It was like the world's largest light-bulb going off, ending countless lives in a flash. The pain as my flesh burned was indescribable, and I nearly vomited when I heard my own skin sizzling like well-done jiaôzi. I had to rip off my uniform shirt, as parts of it had caught fire.
By the time I had gotten a hold of myself and turned to look, I could see the mushroom cloud rising over what had been my home. There were more flashes, distant, but I did not register that the entire region was being bombed.
As if lying in wait for all of those deaths, the radio came to life, and that was how I learned we had been forced to use atomic weaponry on our own city.
Q: What happened next?
A: I went to get medical attention, whimpering like a dog from the pain. It was in the tent, having bandages put over my wounds, that I heard the gentle patter of rain against the tarp. When I looked to the side, I saw something the color of pitch running over the plastic windows.
His eyes mist over with tears, and his voice cracks.
Black rain. We'd turned the rain black. My parents, and millions of other parents, and the children of those parents, and their friends... they were pattering over the tent and dripping down the tarp. That was the closest I'd get to seeing my mother one last time, as radioactive sludge coming down from the sky.
There was little time to grieve. I was bandaged up, and sent into the fight in Chèngdū, even as my own skin blistered and screamed whenever I moved. I didn't see action. By then, we and the Russians had taken virtually of the city.
Then, on the second day, as I patrolled alone through the streets, I found a wounded Race male leaning against an alley wall. He'd been shot in the flank, and was shivering as the cold set in.
Q: What did you do?
A: I helped prop him up, and sat myself down on some bricks across from him, offering a cup of tea from my thermos. I'd seen many of them dressed in the most garish clothing as they tried to stay warm; I'd seen some wearing children's costumes they'd looted, or layers upon layers of women's dresses. He was dressed much the same, almost like a Western clown.
He asked me what I was going to do. I replied that I just wanted to talk with him for a while, if that was alright.
Q: Why?
A: I suppose... I suppose it was a quest for answers. For the external, and internal. I was emotionally adrift after the loss of my home, and I wished to find something to latch onto. My curiosity was enough, at the time.
I asked him a few questions about himself. About life on Home, and the Race's culture. He told me many things. He was born in Prefillo, and used to cart books around before joining the war. He liked to watch movies about the conquest of Rabotev and Halless, which probably helped propel him to joining up during the Soldier's Time.
Then, I asked him why the Race had come to conquer Earth. To that, he looked at me as though I was insane, and said that it was the Race's right, and there was nothing more to it.
Q: What did you think about that?
A: In that moment, I felt an indescribable... disappointment. For years, as a child, I had dreamed of meeting aliens. I had dreamed of finding kindred amongst the stars, or wise and benevolent beings that would teach us the secrets of the universe. Even when the war started, I found myself wondering if there was some grand purpose to it, some alien ideal that I could scarcely guess at.
And instead, I found self-centered little creatures, with an incredibly dull and unsophisticated culture that had stagnated for longer than human history, who had come to kill millions and take my home away out of some vague notion of manifest destiny. A shallow thing; full of stupidity, willful ignorance, and a disregard for anything that dared challenge their fragile ideals.
I had not found Man's equals, or his betters. I had found his inferiors.
Q: What happened then?
A: I took back my tea, and thanked him for baring the truth to me.
Then, I took a brick, and bashed his head in.
Q: That was your first kill, was it not?
A: It was. Very sloppy; I just kept on slamming the brick into his scaly braincase until I felt the brick striking wet pavement. I remember the emotions pouring through me at the time, how I'd gritted my teeth like an animal as I slaughtered one.
I remember letting the wet brick fall from my hand, then numbly walking back to where humans were. The celebrations were beginning, and I could see civilians mingled in with the soldiers and Russians. Some jaunty tune was playing from a boombox someone had placed on a car, and in that moment, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. As I watched the crowd celebrate the victory, I felt like a man reborn, with my pain and doubts slowly giving way to a deep love.
Q: Love?
A: Love of everything human, of being human. I felt like a husband who'd had a spat with his wife, only to realize his love for her when she falls gravely ill. I realized how much I loved music, and drinking tea, and dancing with beautiful women, and poetry. I realized how much I loved our philosophies, our artworks, all the strange ways we express ourselves and try to understand the universe.
I danced with many people that night. I listened to the music, and had chummy embraces with drunk Russians.
And I vowed to myself that as long as I had breath, I would not let these beasts from other stars hurt what I love.
-/-\-
You have been reading:
Worldfall, Chapter Seven: Escalation