Sentience 1: Storm Clouds Gathering
Page 38
But it was when the humans were first engaged in actual hand-to-hand combat, that the true alien nature of this new enemy was fully revealed. Most of the humans were a full 30 percent larger and had twice the body mass of even the oversized Raknaa — literally twice the size and three times the body mass of their Raknii officers. No one could have suspected, but these humans were giants! Savage giants at that… bayonets, combat knives and martial arts all came as very unpleasant shocks to the Rak warriors tasked with subduing these aliens — aliens who even used their weapons as blunt clubs, when necessary.
It was probably the Rak who landed in rural areas, not actively defended by the human military troops as they were near the cities, that came as the biggest shock of all to Raknii dreams of subduing this human planet. Even the human civilians were armed —large canine creatures with fangs, farmers with hunting rifles, children with shotguns, and housewives wielding butcher knives. Dynamite and homemade gasoline fire-bombs welcomed the Rak from every shadow. These gigantic aliens were crazy!
“Sergeant-Major! Malone’s squad is coming in with prisoners.”
Prisoners? Fleet Marine Sergeant-Major William White turned towards the opening of the bunker and shouted, “On my way… this I’ve gotta see.”
White climbed the steps leading out of the bunker, gliding past the double dog-leg design of the entrance that provided cover from shrapnel, concussive blast and other rude occurrences normally found in ground combat situations. By the time his head cleared the low hanging entrance, White saw his first six ridiculously small invaders ringed with Marines, with their hands (paws?) pulled behind their backs and tied with strong plastic cable clamps that marines carried with them for just that purpose.
They were definitely NOT human… not by any stretch of the imagination. Humanoid maybe, as they were all bipedal, having the proper number of arms, legs and heads. But then, there was that tail to consider. They were basically feline in appearance. Five of the six were larger, approximately 4’6” to 4’ 8” tall and looked a bit like an old earth cougar, with corresponding fangs and claws. Unlike real cougars, they had opposable thumbs adjacent to three muscled “fingers.” Their coloring ranged from a light blonde to a dirty shit-brown. One even appeared to have faint stripe markings on its back and facial area. All but the smallest were dressed in identical crossed-belt combat harnesses above tough leggings of undeterminable color. Sgt. White blinked at the boots. He’d never thought to see a cat wearing boots.
The smallest one was obviously a different breed altogether. About three feet tall and having a mane haloing its head, looking for all the world like an old earth African lion… a very small old earth African lion. This one's fur was a golden color with a mane that was almost black. Unlike the larger ones, the smallest one wore a loose, blousy shirt that shone like silk. White silk. What kind of creature goes into combat wearing white? Oh Yeah… I remember reading the French army once wore white uniform coats into combat. Almost as ridiculous as the bright red ones the British still wear as dress coats. Pfft… can’t see the blood, my Great-Aunt Matilda’s hairy fat ass!
“How’d you end up with these?” asked White.
Corporal Betty Malone stepped forward and said, “Tossed a flash-bang grenade down one of their hidey holes and there they were… all stunned as shit at the bottom. Got the cuffs on them before their world came back into focus. Thought I’d bring them to you as an early birthday gift, Sergeant-Major.”
“They give you any trouble?”
“Just a lot of growling and spitting for a while. One tried to take a bite outta Lance-Corporal Woods, but I shoved a grenade into his mouth and that put a stop to that shit. Guess they’ve learned what grenades are for and with those fangs, he couldn’t dislodge it,” replied Malone. “Think I might have chipped a tooth taking my grenade back after we got here… kitty slobber, ew!”
The surrounding marines laughed at Malone’s sarcastic wit, but all held their weapons pointed menacingly towards the small alien invaders.
“Well, I appreciate your letting me taking a gander at what’s been fucking with us, but we haven’t got any place for them up here,” said the sergeant-major. “Take them on back to Division HQ and turn them over to the spooks. Maybe they can house-break them as pets.”
More appreciative marine laughter was followed by Malone’s admonition, “You pukes heard the sergeant-major. Grab the alien weapons and let’s haul these pussies down to Division. Maybe we can scrounge us up some real food for a change, where the brass hangs out.”