Humanity

caeligocielo:

It’s easy to forget that
among the Umvirate races humans have the least distance from their
evolutionary ancestors. They’re charming and friendly, and get along
with damn near everyone.

But there are moments when
we’re reminded just how animal these newcomers still are. For me,
that moment was when our ship crashed.

Smoke clogged the air,
pouring from combusting electronics. My ducts wheezed forcefully,
trying to force the particles out. Logically I knew it was a waste of
effort; no one would be able to lift the section of ship that had me
pinned. But every species has some degree of survival instinct in
them, and mine wouldn’t let me stop.

Thank the algorithms for
that.

A shape burst through the
whirling smoke and flames, forcing them to curl around it and
snarling as the tongues of fire licked at its exposed flesh. A brief
hope swelled within me before my rational mind quelled it. I cannot
be saved, it said. Do not drag anyone down with me.

“What are you doing
here?” I called, recognizing our human, Ash, whom we’d picked up
not two calendars ago. “You have to get out!”

Ash barked in a hoarser
laugh than normal, the smoke, I assumed, and said, “And leave you
behind? Not happening.” I could see the human’s eyes now, darting
about taking in the situation. The pupils widened as it saw where I
was pinned and for a moment I was horribly reminded that it came from
a predator species. Logic, thankfully, overrode the accompanying
worries. Still, it did not have enough strength in its frame to move
the metal that had me pinned, not with under this gravity, not even
with its deathworlder build.

I tried again to warn Ash
away as it approached, but a snarl was the reply I got as the human
braced itself against the floor and pinning metal. I closed my ears
in grief. We had been warned, of course, how humans will imprint on
crew members, treating them as they would family. It was part of what
attracted us to the idea of hiring one, after all. But we hadn’t
accounted for the bonding working both ways, and now I felt guilt for
Ash’s impending death.

I did not hear
– as my ears were screwed shut – but rather felt
the metal warping as it was bent off of me. Shock overtook me as my
brain attempted to make sense of the event. Ash could not have the
strength to do that, but somehow did. Thank the algorithms. By the
time I could process everything that happened fresh air was
assaulting my ducts. Gratefully I inhaled and stared up at the
beautiful, grimacing beast that had saved me.

Us, I
quickly realized. Several other crewmembers, only somewhat singed,
lay in the field around us. I could hear Ash’s ducts working overtime
to supply fresh air to its system and my sight returned to it. The
human’s eyes were wide and staring at the burning wreckage. Not in
fear, I realized, but focus. A focus so intense that I shivered to
even be on its periphery. But the guttural roar that burst from the
duct of the human shook me even more.

Ash
began sprinting back into
the burning ship. I lay there in silent horror watching my companion
defy every survival instinct it must have and charge back to save
more of our crewmembers. And then I saw it happen again.

And
again.

And
again.

Seventeen
members were saved before the fire became too intense for even the
deathworlder. It collapsed to its knees at the burning entrance
making sounds I recognized as distress. Having recovered enough to
move, I drug myself forward and wrapped myself around the human in
the manner that I had been told was comforting. It must have worked
as the human gripped me tightly – uncomfortably so – as it wailed
in grief for the lives it could not save.

I
learned later – almost as an aside while giving my report – how
it was that Ash was able to accomplish what I had thought logically
impossible. Evidently under great stress humans secrete a natural
compound very similar to higher end combat stims. This gives them
increased energy, further resistance to pain, and unbounded use of
their freakish strength. That last thought especially chilled me. It
was haunting to know that every feat of power I’d seen until then was
subconsciously limited by their brains to prevent their own
body from tearing itself apart.

Despite
the tragedy, Ash thankfully chose to stay on, though I think it was
uncomfortable with the newfound deference shown to it. But there was
nothing to be done about it.

After
all, to us Ash was an angel.