zerpderptwerp:

strangehumansbafflealiens:

Terror

Two days ago, on Halloween, a terror attack happened (allegedly in the name of ISIS), killing eight people and injuring almost a dozen near 4 schools. Despite this class was still in session the next day.

How would aliens feel about all this? There are groups of humans that feel justified spreading terror and mass murder to spread a message, and there are humans who feel this is the only way to do so.

Big cities swallow it whole, though. They just take the tragedy, offer help to those who need it, and keep going on as normal.

Deathworlders, indeed.

The door to the engineering bay glides open, with only the sound of compressed air being released to alert the sole occupant. In strolls a small being, feathered from large blunt, beaked, head, to scaly, taloned feet in red plumes with blue accenting feathers around the eyes. The RRSS Talons-of-Roost commanding officer, Red-Winged-Gale walks to the Human engineer as the human stands at attention.

“At ease Trevor-Smith-Manhatten,” Red-Winged-Gale responds, “I have been informed…” Red-Winged-Gale’s voice cracks a bit in a distressed caw. “Informed that your roost–er, your hometown–has been attacked by–”

“I know,” Trevor interrupts, “I read the news this morning. Eight dead…” Trevor gives a low whistle. “God damn, what’s my world coming to?”

“Well, erm, yes. If you need to take the day off and mourn if for the attack upon your roost– I mean, hometown.”

Trevor looks at his commanding officer in confusion. “Thank you sir, but I have no need to do so,” he turns back to continue checking the gauges on the Anti-matter reactor.

It was Red-Winged-Gale’s turn to look at Trevor in confusion. “Are you not sad at the attack upon your ro–hometown?”

“Well, yeah, but shit happens, life goes on. Hell, if I stopped work for every day someone in New York died, I’d never work again.” Trevor shrugged the suggestion away. “Besides, that’s how they win.”

Red-Winged-Gale looks befuddled at Trevor. He learned long ago that humans tended to be a strange lot, and questions only begat more questions. Still, he had to open his beak and asked, “Are you not afraid?”

Trevor stiffens his shoulders. Red-Winged-Gale, immediately regretting opening his beak, was about to say, forget it until Trevor turned to him. “The people who claimed responsibility for the attack are terrorists. Scumbags of the lowest order. They hate everything my country stands for, everything Western Civilization stands for. They despise peace, detests equality, and hates freedom. They would see us either dead or our knees bent to their God. This is what they mean by Jihad,” Trevor speaks to the commander with a forceful conviction that awes Red-Winged-Gale. “But the thing about bending a knee to someone else, is that they first have to make you afraid. Afraid to resist. Afraid to continue living as one has. When we humans are afraid, we tend to sacrifice our freedoms for safety. For the most part anyways. This is especially true when we’ve taken our freedoms for granted. The best way to combat terrorists, is to not be afraid. To continue living as if their actions do nothing. To laugh at them for being stupid. To laugh at their God and spit in their face. You win, by not showing them you fear what could happen. After all, you can’t make someone who doesn’t fear you, bend their knee.” Trevor turns back to his duties, leaving his commander in confusion. Red-Winged-Gale shakes his head and walks out.