Fucimaeet’s twin lower stomachs growled. He needed to eat some meat. He needed to do it fast. Fucimaeet ‘s people were truly unique in the universe. Most sentient species were products of divine evolution. Creations molded from their environs, idiosyncratic to the whims of their own deities. Made sentient in a moment and left to adapt, grow and evolve or to die. Casualties of the world upon which they have the privilege to be placed. Ever growing waves of brilliance that crash upon the bones of the less evolved.That is the normal way of your, mine, and every other world. Not Fucimaeet, his planet Bol`~ had been attacked by some unseen enemy eons past. Their attackers saw the two-sentient species a race of bipedal bovine and a feline biped. Both species were hardy creatures and the genetic weapons used were intended to sterilize them.
The attacking race viewed this as humane, the people would simply die off and they could substitute this planet for their own uninhabitable globe. Fucimaeet ‘s people had refused to die off. Instead they evolved they survived and grew stronger. They became a miracle of biology.
All the flotsam in their DNA was purged. No gene for weakness. No disease could kill them, they could live off any type of food. A miracle of Darwinian proportions. Only by inter-species mingling were they able to survive, and the result of the traumatic stress to their DNA had created a masterpiece.
The “Moh`da~ebh translated into “The ones who survive” and those who choose to be politically correct called Fucimaeet, and his kind “Survivors”. That was the respectful way to refer to them. Most people called them cow-leos or Cee-els. Even though Fucimaeet’s distant primogenitors had been more like wildebeest and the extinct saber-toothed tigers than cows or lions.
The odd genetic mixture of the Survivors caused them to tend to ingest both meat and vegetation in good measure. For prime health an adult survivor should ingest half of their body weight each day. Fucimaeet, was a handsome, and fearsome, specimen of his race. He had a prodigious set of horns and his mane locks bore the black and gold swirls that had signified his tribe for centuries. Ever since the genetic attacks the Moh` da ~ebh called "Sybahnn", simply translated “The combining." Fucimaeet’s fangs and lower teeth glistened, and his musk was becoming overwhelming. None of the other male officers on board his ship the, “Unconquerable”, could be in his presence for long. His musk would increase in potency, until he had hunted or rutted. The females aboard were noticing his heightened breed readiness and were beginning to lull whenever his path crossed theirs.
They were supposed to arrive in approximately 10 rotations what the humans called hours. He would hunt, he would kill, and he would bathe in his prey’s blood. The acids in his stomachs would attach to the raw flesh and bone marrow and his scent would return to normal.
Fucimaeet, was a junior captain one of the youngest, his brutal methods in training had garnered the attention of the leaders. He hoped that this trip to find pirates would be fruitful, that he would be able to advance in the Warriors Pride. Fucimaeet, flicked his right ear. Having descended from both predators and prey he felt the wrongness of danger, and the blood lust, simultaneously. A yipping growl formed in his throat, and the throat of every alpha on board the ship. The vessel's armored plating hardened, a response to the heightened senses of the alphas of each sub-pride, the Alpha over the weapons sub-pride was in motion. He was derided amongst his peers because of the disparity in his horns. In a race that had no sickness, or deformity, he was considered somewhat of an outcast. The right horn hadn't grown no matter how much blood lust the arms sergeant had experienced. His name was Grnargh, it was one of the few words that translated from Bolian to standard as a single word, Victor or winner. In the Survivors native tongue, it meant I won. It was the most common name on Bol~.
The A.I. in the weapons center of the Hunter Class Warcraft was married to Grnargh’s neural implants, and with a thought the Hunter/Alpha of Weapons Sergeant Grnargh Greenpasture *(The most common family name on Bol~) made history. His leather skin had hardened. With instincts honed, from a herd animals danger sense the young Alpha sensed some threat. The spikey hair that ran from shoulder to shoulder and plunged to the middle of his chest bristled the razor sharp hollow hair could be used as a projectile in extreme circumstances.
Grnargh was a good officer his Musk enough to control his sub-pride, but not strong enough to challenge for advancement. His small right horn itched. It itched like when his rack had first emerged, like at rut, he attempted to focus, told his implants to prep all gun ports, and prime the hill crusher torpedoes. He shuddered, as the blood lust overtook him. His eyes, normally brown, and the height of bovine warmth, had narrowed and turned a distinctively feline gold, his lower fangs sprung to full extension and the stunted right horn extended sharp, and deadly. His rack, now impressive by any standard altered the Survivor males entire, bearing. The order to fire on the seemingly deserted patch of space, flashed to his superior officers via a direct link that was pride and herd reinforced. The neural implants simply strengthened the link. In the Survivors Pride/Herd hierarchy, the dominant males, and females recognized their station, and rarely did insubordination happen. An Alpha emitted musk with each order and the strength of his musk was enough to make the order be followed. No sub-pride Alpha from any ships section challenged the order, his musk, even filtered through the mental link caused even Fucimaeet, to agree. The Hunter Class ship peppered the coordinates supplied by the blood lust consumed weapons officer.
His order via the link called for 6 talons. A mid range missile designed to shred on impact into billions of razor sharp projectiles called quills. He also fired “Rippers teeth” a weapon named after the second most deadly predator on Bol~, that impacted like a rail gun and tunneled through any substance.
Fucimaeet’s fangs and lower teeth were fully extended and his impressive horns at their fearsome full length “Get a read out of that area NOW!” Fucimaeet, commanded. Lei Ah the female bridge sub-pride commander responded, “Captain the scans show that a vessel was inside those coordinates but whatever was blocking our view before…Captain the ship suddenly appeared!” The ship had an odd configuration, one he had never seen before, and Fucimaeet had studied every vessel The Survivors, their allies, and their enemies had ever encountered.
The vessel was dead in space. Fucimaeet, ordered the communications officer to contact the ship. His instruments told him the beings on the ship were alive, they also informed him that his message had been received. If they refused to respond He would lead a “Claw” onto the drifting ship. Instead of responding the ship fired a beam that had no effect on Fucimeet’s vessel.
It did affect Fucimeet’s crew. The blood lust took every hunter aboard.
He summoned his Claw via the link, Grnargh served as his beta for the mission.
The survivors carried every manner of bladed weapon including plasma, and laser blades. the stomachs of the pride growled loudly, although it was rare for the modern survivors to eat their foes, instinct still whispered to every warrior on the small but deadly boarding craft.
The “Moh`da~ebh translated into “The ones who survive” and those who choose to be politically correct called Fucimaeet, and his kind “Survivors”. That was the respectful way to refer to them. Most people called them cow-leos or Cee-els. Even though Fucimaeet’s distant primogenitors had been more like wildebeest and the extinct saber-toothed tigers than cows or lions.
The odd genetic mixture of the Survivors caused them to tend to ingest both meat and vegetation in good measure. For prime health an adult survivor should ingest half of their body weight each day. Fucimaeet, was a handsome, and fearsome, specimen of his race. He had a prodigious set of horns and his mane locks bore the black and gold swirls that had signified his tribe for centuries. Ever since the genetic attacks the Moh` da ~ebh called "Sybahnn", simply translated “The combining." Fucimaeet’s fangs and lower teeth glistened, and his musk was becoming overwhelming. None of the other male officers on board his ship the, “Unconquerable”, could be in his presence for long. His musk would increase in potency, until he had hunted or rutted. The females aboard were noticing his heightened breed readiness and were beginning to lull whenever his path crossed theirs.
They were supposed to arrive in approximately 10 rotations what the humans called hours. He would hunt, he would kill, and he would bathe in his prey’s blood. The acids in his stomachs would attach to the raw flesh and bone marrow and his scent would return to normal.
Fucimaeet, was a junior captain one of the youngest, his brutal methods in training had garnered the attention of the leaders. He hoped that this trip to find pirates would be fruitful, that he would be able to advance in the Warriors Pride. Fucimaeet, flicked his right ear. Having descended from both predators and prey he felt the wrongness of danger, and the blood lust, simultaneously. A yipping growl formed in his throat, and the throat of every alpha on board the ship. The vessel's armored plating hardened, a response to the heightened senses of the alphas of each sub-pride, the Alpha over the weapons sub-pride was in motion. He was derided amongst his peers because of the disparity in his horns. In a race that had no sickness, or deformity, he was considered somewhat of an outcast. The right horn hadn't grown no matter how much blood lust the arms sergeant had experienced. His name was Grnargh, it was one of the few words that translated from Bolian to standard as a single word, Victor or winner. In the Survivors native tongue, it meant I won. It was the most common name on Bol~.
The A.I. in the weapons center of the Hunter Class Warcraft was married to Grnargh’s neural implants, and with a thought the Hunter/Alpha of Weapons Sergeant Grnargh Greenpasture *(The most common family name on Bol~) made history. His leather skin had hardened. With instincts honed, from a herd animals danger sense the young Alpha sensed some threat. The spikey hair that ran from shoulder to shoulder and plunged to the middle of his chest bristled the razor sharp hollow hair could be used as a projectile in extreme circumstances.
Grnargh was a good officer his Musk enough to control his sub-pride, but not strong enough to challenge for advancement. His small right horn itched. It itched like when his rack had first emerged, like at rut, he attempted to focus, told his implants to prep all gun ports, and prime the hill crusher torpedoes. He shuddered, as the blood lust overtook him. His eyes, normally brown, and the height of bovine warmth, had narrowed and turned a distinctively feline gold, his lower fangs sprung to full extension and the stunted right horn extended sharp, and deadly. His rack, now impressive by any standard altered the Survivor males entire, bearing. The order to fire on the seemingly deserted patch of space, flashed to his superior officers via a direct link that was pride and herd reinforced. The neural implants simply strengthened the link. In the Survivors Pride/Herd hierarchy, the dominant males, and females recognized their station, and rarely did insubordination happen. An Alpha emitted musk with each order and the strength of his musk was enough to make the order be followed. No sub-pride Alpha from any ships section challenged the order, his musk, even filtered through the mental link caused even Fucimaeet, to agree. The Hunter Class ship peppered the coordinates supplied by the blood lust consumed weapons officer.
His order via the link called for 6 talons. A mid range missile designed to shred on impact into billions of razor sharp projectiles called quills. He also fired “Rippers teeth” a weapon named after the second most deadly predator on Bol~, that impacted like a rail gun and tunneled through any substance.
Fucimaeet’s fangs and lower teeth were fully extended and his impressive horns at their fearsome full length “Get a read out of that area NOW!” Fucimaeet, commanded. Lei Ah the female bridge sub-pride commander responded, “Captain the scans show that a vessel was inside those coordinates but whatever was blocking our view before…Captain the ship suddenly appeared!” The ship had an odd configuration, one he had never seen before, and Fucimaeet had studied every vessel The Survivors, their allies, and their enemies had ever encountered.
The vessel was dead in space. Fucimaeet, ordered the communications officer to contact the ship. His instruments told him the beings on the ship were alive, they also informed him that his message had been received. If they refused to respond He would lead a “Claw” onto the drifting ship. Instead of responding the ship fired a beam that had no effect on Fucimeet’s vessel.
It did affect Fucimeet’s crew. The blood lust took every hunter aboard.
He summoned his Claw via the link, Grnargh served as his beta for the mission.
The survivors carried every manner of bladed weapon including plasma, and laser blades. the stomachs of the pride growled loudly, although it was rare for the modern survivors to eat their foes, instinct still whispered to every warrior on the small but deadly boarding craft.
The shuttles “teeth” attached to the larger craft. Fucimaeet, and 11 of his prides most fierce hunters boarded the unidentified object.
Pandemonium ensued.
Fucimaeet, awoke, he couldn’t recall having slept that soundly since he was a youngling. Blood coated both his fur and his leathery skin. His claw lay around him in a ring to protect him. They had gorged.
The young Captain had gorged before, after a hunt, He had never done so in battle, or heard of anyone in modern times who had. He woke the others through the link and reached out to his ship. Within moments all the ships data had been downloaded as he walked around Fucimaeet got his first non-blood lust view of their prey. He hoped their flesh wouldn’t make him ill. They resembled the earth creatures known As Rats.
As he conveyed orders to Lei Ah, Fucimaeet, knew things would never be the same. He extended his long tongue and cleaned the blood from his face. There would be war again. There was a new foe in the galaxy, and they were delicious.
Pandemonium ensued.
Fucimaeet, awoke, he couldn’t recall having slept that soundly since he was a youngling. Blood coated both his fur and his leathery skin. His claw lay around him in a ring to protect him. They had gorged.
The young Captain had gorged before, after a hunt, He had never done so in battle, or heard of anyone in modern times who had. He woke the others through the link and reached out to his ship. Within moments all the ships data had been downloaded as he walked around Fucimaeet got his first non-blood lust view of their prey. He hoped their flesh wouldn’t make him ill. They resembled the earth creatures known As Rats.
As he conveyed orders to Lei Ah, Fucimaeet, knew things would never be the same. He extended his long tongue and cleaned the blood from his face. There would be war again. There was a new foe in the galaxy, and they were delicious.
No comments:
Post a Comment