Sophia Barton was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Sure, she was short like every human. Yeah, she had the unnecessarily long hair that most human females do.
She even did the all too predatory action of baring her teeth, often. Despite all of this, she was the best friend I’ve ever had.
“Why do we have to Mom?” I whined like children were want to.
“Because they’re coming into the Council, now stop fussing.” My mother shut me down sternly, as we waited behind the large glass walls looking into the ship terminal.
“It’s stupid, why does she need to stay at our house?” I asked my mother, crossing my arms in an all too familiar toddler way. “There are a million other houses.”
“Rules are rules, dear.” She never went into much depth, even as she got older.
When the ship landed, I remember how much I tried not to look.
I even tried to wander into a different room, but the loud screaming that sounded after the engines silenced kept my eyes glued to the platform.
She was tiny. Her face was red and glistened from moisture oozing out of multiple orifices. All I could think was how ugly humans are. What a shame they were being allowed into the Council.
The little girl kept creating such a fuss that I didn’t even notice the hand she was holding onto was the hand of my father, the Third Admiral of Council Collective Space Fleet.
But, after contact with the horrendous looking humans, he was brought down to nothing more than a baby sitter.
"Ew, she is not staying in my room.” I said, with my face smashed against the window, ears raised to the cold surface.
My mother merely shushed me and led me to the entrance where my father was entering, with his new unfortunate luggage.
My parents embraced and my father even gave me some sort of wooden toy he had gotten on one of the human’s planets.
I whispered my protests into his lowered ear, but he would be having none of it.
The day felt like it would be the beginning of something horrible,
especially if I was going to be listening to the disgusting sniveling sounds coming from the tiny human clinging to my father’s large grizzled one.
It wasn’t until I tripped down a flight of steps later a few minutes later, as I was scuffing my feet in childish anger, that I realized that it was actually the exact opposite.
Empathy, compassion, mercy, call it what you like, but it defines humanity. Every race in the Council is powerful, intelligent, clever, or resilient, but the humans are just plain nice.
The lumbering Marins are the least opportune race to face head to head. The Yyes are known for their near perfect soldiers. Graes are the oldest and most intelligent of the races.
You’d be hard-pressed to find a Nami who can’t con you out of the last credits you have left in your pocket.
Then there are the Undarins who can withstand temperatures unimaginable temperatures and pressures. But, somehow, without all of those abilities, humans found a way to surpass us all.
With the acceptance of humans into the Council, it was merely ten cycles before the status quo would be irreparably changed.
You could call the Council a plenty things, but cohesive wasn’t one of them. At least, not 80 cycles ago.
Territory is a lot harder to keep track of in space than it was when we were all just terrestrial races,
especially when half your races hunt and pick single planets from systems and the other half deal in the warp dilations found in the absence of space.
If asked, some will tell you the war was the Marins’ fault,
less empathetic will say the Nami needed to learn people are going to get angry when you’re constantly pulling the wool over their eyes.
Either way, the Nami had talked the Council into giving them a planet from a system already promised to the Marins.
What started out as a small border conflict, quickly evolved into a full-out war between the Marins and the Nami.
Races from throughout the whole galaxy were picking sides and Council was looking for anyway to end the war.
The only thing the Council seemed to have accomplish was accepting the humans into the government and performing the usual protocol of hosting a thousand of the children of the
new race throughout the alliance.
For the first couple cycles, the war was barely a dividing factor among the Council, everyone thought it wasn’t necessary.
Most races tried diplomatic measures with both sides, but no one would yield.
It took four cycles for the Marins to declare the war to be about the Nami being the undermining race of the entire Council. Their goal?
Extermination of every Nami, man, woman and child.