Sci-Fi Saturday: The World of the Moon Marines

We were the precursors. All our calculations, all our research from our pale blue dot, a spec of dust floating in a sunbeam, it all agreed. When we raised our eyes to the heavens in search of answers and received only silence, it was because we were first. So many billions of years seemed like a long time, but it was a mere fraction of the time the universe would persist.

So we reached for the stars. We spread our species throughout the system, ever hoping to hear from another race. We never received an answer, so we did what the precursors always do; We seeded the galaxy with life. We loaded our ordinance, developed for use against ourselves and honed to perfect over many lifetimes, with the basics of life. The hardiest microbes, able to survive anywhere. Cluster bombs of enormous size, atop rockets of unparalleled enormity. Were something to happen to us, our planets legacy as the cradle of life would not end. We planned to follow, in great colony ships to be built.

We never made it that far.

It's hard to say what cosmic calamity befell the Sol system, but we were no more. The cradle of life was extinguished.

Many years have passed since, and life has flourished throughout the galaxy. Some of it may even harken back to those converted weapons, launched untold millenia ago. Where one sapient species finds another, they are uplifted to the galactic community, and peace largely prevails.

But peace is fleeting. The eldest of races, the second precursors, saw the chaos looming, a chaos for which the galaxy was unprepared. Artifacts hinted at another civilization, ancient beyond measure. A civilization that had raised itself to the heavens alone, and vanished. The artifacts were dated, their trajectories compiled, and their homeworld found, a dead system with an aging star in a galactic backwater.

Humanity would be reborn, brought back from the ravages of time in hopes that their wisdom will save the galaxy. Plans were set in motion, and the Sol System was imploded, replaced with a copy from eons past, when humanity still flourished. The estimate of time was rough, and we had not yet reached to the stars, but there was time for us to develop before we were needed.

With the detonation of the Manhattan project, some members questioned our supposed precursor wisdom, but others had suspicions we were what the galaxy needed confirmed. Without explanation we were given a few pieces of technology we couldn't understand yet, and left to the tender mercies of our garden world with the secret hopes of the galaxy.


Even proof of extraterrestrial life, revealed to a few key scientists, could not sway the course of history by much. The alien devices were studied and set aside as too advanced. With every advancement the artifacts were dusted off and re-examined, as the space race was pursued with enhanced purpose. Where there was the possibility of life beyond Earth on our first foray beyond the planet was addressed, now there was proof. The Apollo program was largely unchanged for most of its development, but the knowledge that there were aliens who had seen fit to visit us would change the course of history.

By the new 1970s, the alien technology began to be understood. By the end of the 70s, we had begun to understand the technology, and were able to begin to examine it in earnest. By the end of the Cold War, we had begun to be able to copy the technology; we knew how it worked, even if we couldn't explain why. Reactionless rockets, quantum communications, and a device that seemed to raise the universal speed limit of Light Speed. Where our space program faltered, the new humanity used its boons and added purpose to charge ahead. The moon was colonized, and our military might was extended beyond the Earth. Spurred onwards by reverse engineering, ease of space-borne experiments, interplanetary resources, and the secret knowledge that there was other life to compete with, science advanced swiftly.

As our understanding grew, we began to recognize the changes, that something with the universe had changed around the Manhattan Project and a great deal of time had passed. With this information found, and the alien technology understood, the greatest news was finally broken.

We had met aliens, and were given technology. We know nothing of who, or why; Humanity had been brought forward in time, having once been at the front of the curve. We still had yet to make contact with our mysterious benefactors, but we were ready. Whatever tests lay ahead, we would not be found wanting. Whether it was hoped that we would be worthy adversaries or galactic heroes, we meant to be prepared.

At the turn of the century, as we fired up our first Stardrive and set course for the nearest system, we affirmed our purpose. We came in peace, for all mankind. We walked softly, but carried a big stick. We would get further with a kind word and a gun than a kind word alone.

First contact was made in 2010. The present year is 2015.


We were not the wise ancients the second precursors had hoped for, but we were what the galaxy needed.

Sci-Fi Friday: Diary of a Va-Kree Spacer, Entry 2

It is an interesting thing to be aboard a ship full of the creatures used to frighten unruly children. It is also quite informative. Initial posturing aside, the Earthers and Coqnur seem to get along terrifyingly well. Woe betide any foe that inspires them to ally together.

They have been swapping stories of ancient conflicts, trading tales of battles that ended scores of lives as casually as we might discuss the weather. It is unnerving to listen to, but tells much of their races and the fearsome reputation they have earned.

They had shared countless tales of their great wars, largest battles and greatest defeats. Finally, the topic I dreaded arose; the first contact and combat between the Terrans and Coqnur. I feared a great conflict would arise, one I would have no escape from in the close confines! But instead it was met with great curiosity, as neither species seemed to know much of the other's motivations in the battle. Indeed, all that is known throughout most of the galaxy is that the human victory was absolutely crushing.

As you well know, it all began when a Human settlement was established on a world claimed by the Coqnur at the fringe of their space. It was a loose claim, but the planet held little most of the galaxy deemed of value (including the Coqnur themselves) and to my knowledge there was no formal claim to denote its ownership. Some even theorize that having heard of the Terran's habit of planting at least an outpost on every unclaimed world with a vaguely stable orbit, that the Coqnur claim was planned to gain an excuse to attack, and perhaps reclaim their former glory as the terror of the galaxy. However it came to pass, the galaxy watched in horror as a Coqnur battlefleet mobilized against the fledgling spacefarers. It was feared that a conflict, if it truly arose, would engulf and destroy all of known space, such were the reputations of both species.

No strangers to warfare, the Coqnur used the humans impressively advanced, though somewhat questionable in content, datanet to perform research. Where the civilized inhabitants of the galaxy would avert their eyes in horror lest they imagine the terrors the Humans had inflicted upon themselves, the warriors of the galaxy read with keen interest. But it seems that in their haste and eagerness to prove their dominance, errors were made in their analysis. 

The Terrans were nothing if not efficient at establishing a colony; the encampment was already well emplaced when the Coqnur fleet fell upon it like a meteor shower. Armed and armored, the Reapers of Battle are a terrible force, and the humans fell before them as had been expected. The young Coqnur, known to the humans as Randall due to their inability to properly ennunciate several of the sounds of his true name, explained that initial reports of the battle led the generals to believe they had already won. Even as the commanders prepared to toast their victory over the supposed might of the Terran Military, the tide of battle began to turn. The token resistance faced in the intial wave stiffened, and the Coqnur advance slowed to a crawl. Still, it was thought that with so dominant a position, the humans would surrender or collapse under the strain of battle, trapped as they were in their fortifications. How wrong they had been...

Randall relayed the sense of horror shared by the Coqnur forces as the Might of Terra joined the battle in earnest. These humans, descendents not of mighty predators, but of mere omnivores, even herbivores did not collapse, did not surrender. When the Reapers were poised to capture a structure, the inhabitants would sacrifice themselves and destroy it to defeat their foe; Such structures were taken at no small cost to the invaders, only for their gains to be stripped away amidst thunderous blasts and rending fragments. At every turn, every advance, horrific traps were sprung. The top planners had predicted that unconditional surrender or complete annihilation would be reached within an hour; by the third hour of the engagement the weary forces of the Coqnur were beginning to be pushed back.

While most forces, such as the automaton war brigades kept by most civilized races, would deem a battle lost, the Coqnur did no such thing. Driven by pride and a sense of sure superiority, they were determined to cow the uppity usurpers to their throne as terror of the galaxy. As it would turn out, they never stood a chance.

By the end of the first day, the Terrans had taken the offensive. By the third, the Reapers were facing tremendous losses not to battle, but to fatigue; despite their best efforts at maintaining reinforcements, the troops were falling dead of the strain. Yet, the humans advanced, through day and night, without tire. Even the automaton brigades, a favorite foe of the Coqnur for their ability to provide a proper battle, fought nothing like these monsters. The finest war machines would falter, or stop to run combat analysis, but the humans advanced without fail. Only the greatest of damage seemed to slay them, and still they came. As the fourth day broke, even the most stubborn of generals admitted that the battle was lost to them and attempted retreat; the humans prevented any escape, seeming determined to delay or destroy their attackers.

It was at this point that the large human who had thrown the knife at the bar took the narrative. John, his name is, explained that the humans had seen the fleet coming. Indeed, the Coqnur made little attempt to hide their initial approach, and such measure are questionable at best against the backdrop of the void regardless. Unbeknownst to the Reapers, Humans are masters of defense, and think little of refusing to join in glorious open combat. They knew little of the enemy, and were prepared to fight to the last man, woman, and child with every trick at their disposal.

Then, the true turning point happened; On the fifth day, the Terran military arrived. The forces that had faced the mightiest military then known to the universe to a standstill and forced a retreat were mere militia, a term unknown to both the Coqnur and I until John explained. The militia is a force, composed not of any warrior caste, but merely any human willing to take up arms. John continued to raise a fair point; The humans had evolved as persuit predators, a terrifying concept to discover. Armed with mere sticks, they had hunted many of the greatest beasts of their homeworld to extinction not by might of arms, force of numbers, or sheer power, but simply by dogged determination. They simply tracked their prey until it died of exhaustion in its attempts to fight or flee, just as the Coqnur had. Even their first ally on their world seemed to be selected as the only creature to somewhat keep pace. Most of the great predators of their world were like the Coqnur, mighty and peerless in battle, but unable to sustain the effort beyond a brief and furious initial clash.

Randall spoke, revealing the terrible flaw behind the whole confrontation. When planning, the Coqnur had indeed found many of the measures of human battles. What they failed to comprehend was the sheer scale; the differing measures of time led months and years to be taken as their equivalent of days and weeks, a common length for great wars among the Coqnur. John explained that wars lasting for generations were not only not unheard of, but not even uncommon throughout Terran history. Even Randall was cowed, to hear it so casually explained that humans thought very little of wars lasting longer than the adulthood periods of many galactic inhabitants!

What manner of terrible world would produce such a horrific creature, and how could it survive to spread into the great void? Then again, having heard even this much about them, how could such monsters not thrive? Though they are amiable enough once known, they are not to be crossed if it is possible to avoid. Still, they seem willing enough to risk themselves in defense of galactic denizens, and swap stories of facing uncontrolled war machines in defense of their creatores with the same casualness we might apply to a simple jaunt to one of our moons from the planet.

Sci Fi Saturday: Beware of Humans

I've touched on F*** Yeah Humanity things a few times before, here's me flexing my short-story muscles to keep them from withering, and world building perhaps for the world of the Moon Marines.

Exerpt from a diary home of a Va-Kree Spacer

You have heard of the humanity, yes? Known throughout the sector as perhaps the most frightening thing yet encountered. I tell you, I have met one, and the stories do them little justice. The mighty race that dethroned the fearsome Coqnur as the warrior life form. And yet, perhaps the greatest surprise is how little they look as one might assume. Their hides vary in tone slightly, but are smooth and pleasant to the touch, their bodies both soft and firm... but how I came by that information is for another story. They are without horns or teeth or claws, nor do they possess pincers, nor sting, nor antlers or carapace or any of the sundry defenses much of known space possesses.

I had found my path near to the edge of humanity space, in the zone of the Coqnur. The station was small, with but a simple cantina at which to refresh myself before I continued my journey. A place of questionable repute, it was known as most Coqnur establishments for occasional physical disputes, and was thankfully near to the station's medical bay. Many species passed through, and weaponry was required to be left behind or checked elsewhere. The natural weaponry of a species was permitted, and for the sake of fairness the Earthers were permitted to keep blades. As I was to find, it seemed even the owners were still learning about the humans.

The ship to dock behind that which I arrived on belonged to the humans. They arrived at the cantina shortly after I had, and after a short deliberation of the menu and brief discussion, ordered exceptional quantities of beverages treated by most of the galaxy as an unpleasant right of passage, imbibed only by a few odd specimens and some of the Coqnur, containing ethanol. One among them, a darkly skinned specimen that was larger than the rest seemed to be a warrior, and had a number of blades greater than he had appendages! A single massive piece who's wicked blade could be discerned clearly through the animal-hide covering, and a second pouch of smaller blades with curious handles that looked far too small to be held during use. I was to learn the reason for this later, but gave them a wide berth despite their relatively harmless appearance. It would seem that I was right to do so

After some time, a disagreement of sorts occurred. A small, slender human with long headfur was accosted by a brash Coqnur. Most of the patrons gave them a wide berth, having heard frightening tales of the humans. Bristling with blades and carapace, the young male Coqnur performed a threat display. To everyone's surprise, the far smaller human sent him crashing into the bar with a deft movement I could not see from my distant vantage. By the time he arose, so too had the warrior caste human, holding those odd blades, several backwards in one hand, with a single poised in a curiously tenuous grip. As the Coqnur prepared to attack, the blade flew as a shot across the cantina, to embed in the poor lad! Never have I seen anything thrown so, let alone so oddly shaped of a projectile! The other humans seemed nonplussed, even as the bar reeled in shock. Could it be that all humans can hurl objects with such might and precision that most races require a weapon to match?!


As I write to you, I am aboard the humans ship, with the young Coqnur no less! There will be many tales to be had, but know this; The humans are not so bad, but the terror stories you have heard of their deeds are all true.