Journal 2

  Sol 9

  The human and I have agreed to no longer try to kill each other or argue about the war. We need to focus on fixing our communications equipment and rationing what we have. We have a decent amount of food and water (my food, at least, is in orbs for everlasting preservation; not sure what the human has in his many small bags of gruel he loves so dear).

  Ah! Yes!

  How I've gotten here.

  Ten Sols ago, commander’s ship was intercepting a human frigate in orbit above Kalax – 501. The planet had no initial value upon first scan, but the distance between portal worlds and worm holes was a necessity to help establish a stranglehold on the Harionix line in the Helios system between the portal planets Algo and Bolk. We had established a base on Algo and the humans just established one on Bolk. We may have been thousands of light years away from each other, but we both knew we would engage one another. Soon, the fight in orbit ensued.

  These human ships, though primitive, were persistent in their desire to exterminate us from this sector of space in the outer rim. We had two flag ships with us. The humans had twenty. Our ships and technology are far superior; however we did not anticipate the humans to master laser canon and rail gun technology so quickly.

  This was our mistake: hubris.

  Commander’s ship charged head long into the human battle line only for incredible damage on both sides to occur. Commander was able to evade total destruction, but half of the ship was destroyed. All space fighters were mobilized in response. Thus my squadron of eight Corilian fighters, blessed by Golo and the Council, were scrambled to intercept and kill all human vessels. Whatever the cost.

  Losses for both sides were... Tremendous.

  I still hear my fellow Thorgs screaming over the communication link when their shields were withered down and the human fighters were able to use precise laser-rail guns and archaic thermal missiles.

  I went out of my way to eviscerate the human scum that killed my squadron. I recount eliminating ten. All except one that I chased. The one that would become my reluctant companion on this cursed planet.

  My fighter intercepted the human’s fighter and we both chased each down into the surface of the planet. His skill was to be admired. Those maneuvers in such an archaic and barely put together fighter was impressive, I must say. We both shot each other down within 7 skal from each other's crash site. Both our fighters were unable to fly again, but mostly remained with power (life support, some engine response, and heater).

  I rushed out of my fighter and sprinted across the sand with my Katari blade. I wanted to fillet the human's flesh. The plasma rifle I had would've made the task easier. In Thorg culture, killing your enemy with a blade is most admirable for a Thorg. For the enemy, it means their death will be brutal and forthcoming. For the Thorg, it would mean you were skilled enough to fight without the use of plasma rifles or canons; the "honorable" way as it were. This is also a sign of respect to a determined enemy warrior.

  In my mind however, I just wanted the human to die slowly. No honor. Just for him to suffer the way my kind has in battle. I broke Tenet 5 for not fighting with a clear mind and soul along with Tenet 7 for using a blade dishonorably for selfish impulse.

  Stupid on my end.

  The human rolled out of his ship firing a slug-throwing pistol at me. My armor and energy shields deflected his worthless shots. He did manage to fight me in hand-to-hand combat (this is how the humans would describe it). My Katari skills and Diplo-martial arts were superior to his, but his spry agility and erratic movements made landing a well placed wound on him difficult.

  He was tough, I must say. I have a long, red bruise on my neck (jurash) and arms (cobal) as a result of the fight with him. Multiple cuts along my armor. He has dark, purple bruises on his pale skin as well. Neither of us could kill each other. I tore up his leg armor and part of his upper thorax armor with my blade. Although a human, he is a tenacious warrior like that of Frox, the Elite commander of old.

  We fought like this for hours with neither us giving in. We reached a stalemate. He could not penetrate my EXO-suit. I could not land a single direct blow due to his erratic movements. It was in that moment of tired and infuriating exhaustion, the two of realized how stupid and perilous our situation was. We were stranded on a desert planet just recently charted by the star map archivers. We needed to survive for now. Not fight.

  Since our mutual agreement to not kill one another, we now take turns salvaging and cooking. We both help one another out in fixing our radios or communications links.

  He is strange though; he looks at my ship’s advance and superior tech and laughs saying, “It’s all a Christmas tree with oranges.”

  “What is this saying,” I asked.

  “Your ship is fucking weird. Electrical work makes no sense. No order or design,” he snickered as he ripped open a control panel to tinker with my ship’s transponder.

  He pulled out a holo-deck on a rectangle and skimmed through translated images of my kind’s technology that were stolen in the war. He found the image he was looking for and started working on my ship. I reluctantly handed him my tool box and he said no to them. He said it was because the handles on the tools were not meant for human hands. This I understood.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He burnt himself a few times whilst cursing. I wanted to go over there and take over, but he insisted on finishing it. He later got a faint signal from the transponder after an hour of cursing and burning himself. He was proud of himself and yet all I could do was look to the sky hoping the signal reached a passing freighter.

  I helped with his ship as well, but it was mere child’s play with how crude and simple the coding and wiring was. The only annoying thing about it was how my four, slender fingers could not articulate properly to splice a damn wire to a circuit board. I’m glad this human does not understand my speech. He would’ve heard me curse his kind to high hell.

  I believe it may be best if I try to teach him my speech. Might as well kill time. For I learned his human language during an intense "session of words" in training before I earned my rank of captain. All captains and above are forced to learn one of the many human dialects. This was done in order to better learn and interrogate humans in the war. Mine was English. Thank Golo, the human I encountered spoke and understood English.

  Humans were a relatively newer species to space travel. Though primitive in technology, their determination led them to colonize planets and to discover wormholes along with mastering light speed travel. They are a fascinating species that adapts quickly, but their own hindrance is their lack of foresight and advancement in technology. They are a million years behind us Thorgs.

  Forgive my historical ramblings from above and for below.

  When the humans and Thorgs first made contact the language barrier was always going to be a struggle. However, we developed technology to learn other species languages quickly. I remember the intense sessions of words in the Foro Academy of Silox off the moon of Sengolo. I spent a year mastering this one dialect of human (English). The implant mechanism, barely the size of a microscopic cell, was surgically attached into my nervous system along my jurash (neck). The pain from that is something that I would never wish upon any enemy. I would rather have my flesh torn off from my cobals( arms) as punishment for failure to duty in the army than to experience that implant burn and worm its way into my brain as it infected my conscious. I am grateful the recovery of the implant only lasts 4 Sols.

  After the radio transponder fixing, we both scanned the dunes for any signs of water or flora and fauna.

  Nothing. Nothing on our scanners or my EXO-suit's scanners either.

  Just endless sand.

  I knew from orbit that there were pockets of ocean water; however, neither of us managed to figure out our exact coordinates in relation to the oceans. The yearn for a replenishing thirst persists and gnaws at our souls beckoning us to go mad. I refuse to go mad. So does the human, though I am assure he will either go mad or die before me if we are forgotten here.

  The human and I found ourselves in discussion about this war. I asked him, “Why is it you humans fight a war you are out matched in?”

  “We fight because we refuse to die,” he said proudly. “What of you?”

  “What of me?”

  “Why do you fight?”

  “Why do you?”

  “I asked first, man.”

  “Personally I suppose?”

  “Yes! That.”

  “I fight for it is my duty. My creed as a captain in my army. Whatever the cost.”

  “Bull shit,” he regaled jokingly as if what I had told him was a farce. I looked at him confused and he sensed it. He took a drink from his canteen and asked, “You’re not on your planet… Does your kind allow free thought?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why is your answer so indoctrinated then?”

  “Indoctrinated?”

  “It means…”

  “I know what it means, human,” I sneered.

  I sat up and looked at the night stars from the open window of my ship noticing a meteor shower as a red aurora borealis hung overhead. We both silently observed the flashing meteors. He was in awe of them like a child would be. I saw it merely as a thing that occurs naturally.

  I said to him after a moment of thought, “I truly fight because… Because I…”

  In this moment of temporary weakness, I thought of my love and secret affair with the commander of Lora Squadron, Cora.

  She was… Is still a wonderful companion. Her soft, green skin. Her purple eyes. Her warmth in a simple look. Her ability to rip apart enemy with a single thrust of a laser sword. Her ability to quietly command respect. I do not know why she fancied me. But I knew I fancied her.

  I miss her.

  I continued, “I want to see… My love… And be with...”

  “I see,” the human said with understanding.

  He pulled out a tiny, flat square with a laser imprinted image of him out of his armor and flight suit with much shorter hair. He was smiling and tenderly holding a human female with yellow hair with a diamond in her nose. Both were holding a wrapped up, newborn human child who was asleep. Looked like a swollen zork worm in a blue blanket.

  In that quiet moment, I saw the human contemplate his life and reminisce on past events. Everyone, regardless of species, does this. Even the most elite of our forces, all emotion drained from them, still show residual elements of emotions and care for those we call family. I suppose I felt the same for my love, Cora.

  I also feel the real reason I was in the intergalactic army was that I always wanted to travel the cosmos and see wonders beyond comprehension. Childish dream, but I see it as an innate truth in every being to desire to explore. I just wish I was not fighting in a war to fulfill it.

  Will I ever see her again? Will I be able to proclaim my declaration for eternal love in the Grand Council of the capital ship above Thoga’Rach? Take her to the place where we first felt attraction at the blue water falls of Sentinel Prime in the Karin System?

  I guess, I just want to hold her in my arms one last time. To know that… That I need to suppress these feelings once and for all.

  I’m still a captain. I cannot let my emotions win. Tenets 1, 2 and 3 forbid this. I should not be opening up and making friends with the enemy scum. Disgusting human!

  And yet I…

  I need to sleep for this upcoming Sol. More to follow in time.