[WP] Humans have always considered themselves to be a violent species. What they don't know is that the rest of the galaxy considers Earth to be the most peaceful planet in the milky way.

My day was rather okay, had a couple boring classes, took a test, nothing special really. I did, however, progress in my "road to Jennifer" conquest. I managed to not only make eye contact with her once, but twice! I was about to exit the school, happy with myself, when BAM, my pants get pulled down in front of all my fellow freshman. I didn't know what to do as I was both shocked and furious. I turn around, my ass as visible as a moon in a clear sky, and I see John with a smirk on his face. Better yet, I see Jennifer standing besides him, accompanied by almost everyone in my class. I ran home and cried.

Galaxies away, the onlooker alien child asks her teacher, "Ms. Neila why didn't Timmy just kill John? It's clearly beneficial to the human race if John dies, no?"

"We'll never know, that's just the way they are, we can only stare and marvel about what can go on in those innocent brains."

"But how about people like John? He doesn't seem to have an innocent brain."

"People like John are what the humans refer to as "assholes." They are the exceptions and they are similarly minded to us. We believe the first assholes actually arrived from space, and that their DNA eventually intermingled with humans, disturbing their peace."

"Wow! I wish I was an asshole!"

First prompt, critique appreciated. :)

"We're really not that bad once you get to know us," director Ellen said, palliating to the Truvians in the first Human-Truva interaction. "I'm sure that after years of observing us, we might seem a bit, err, irrational."

"That's an understatement!" affixed Jeff, Ellen's head of communications. His team laughed along jovially. The director leered at the communications team. Jeff corrected his posture and spoke directly at the receiver. "Y--Yes, we're quite pleasant, aren't we, boys?" Jeff grinned as he looked to his team them cackling along.

Ellen quickly muted communications' COM with a quick keystroke, and resumed the groundbreaking contact. "What we mean is, we'd be more than happy to appeal to your sensibilities. Our species have been pretty tolerant and caring for the last few--"

"What are you talking about?" The voice sounded thin but clear, as if traveling through a rotating fan.

"Pardon?" Ellen asked.

Light murmuring was heard in the background, a language she couldn't understand, but nonetheless was intrigued by. Suddenly, an odd noise broke through, as if someone slammed a book on the floor, and a faint gurgle followed. The Truvian from before sounded again. "I was informed that the phrase 'What are you talking about?' would be a directive to explain your previous statement, but clearly my informant was wrong. Not to worry, though; he has been terminated and will no longer hinder this historic meeting."

Shocked, the director's hand rushed to cover her mouth. She looked to Jeff, who was just as wide-eyed as the rest of his team. Jeff, unmuting himself on the COM, spoke slowly. "What do you mean, terminated?"

"For fuck's sake how many words did this informant get wrong?" This time, when the voice returned, Ellen jumped in trepidation. The Truvian was clearly irritated. "Now, do your people mean to tell me that you consider yourselves an 'irrational' people? As in a violent people?"

"Err, yes. At any moment, our species may be involved with hundreds of wars, but we don't condone that behavior," Ellen explained. "We seek peace, and use war as a tool, traditionally."

No response was heard from the other line. The communications team checked the instrumentation to see if any reception had been lost. After a few more seconds, something like... laughter? Ellen thought. Why would they be laughing?

Once the odd noise subsided, the voice returned. "You humans crack us up! We destroyed two other planets on the way over here, and they both declared war on us before our race even got a word in otherwise!"

This time, it was Jeff who's mouth suddenly needed protection by his hand.

"Great fun for us, you see. Their technology was nothing compared to ours. Their mathematics were putrid, just like yours, thinking that numbers are a linear sequence. Pfeh."

"T--Two planets, you said?" Ellen's voice grew heavy as she realized what sort of alien species she'd finally contacted after all these years.

"And here you are, thinking that you're possibly more vicious than the rest of us! HELL, YOU EVEN APOLOGIZED FOR YOUR BEHAVIOR!"

The room was motionless. The faces of those inside were still in shock. Ellen couldn't help but to wonder what they would do to her people, given the last two planets they'd visited.

As if to answer her question, the voice broke through the silence yet again. "Ah, it would be a pleasure to keep you alive, but we've got a schedule to keep, and resources to reap... you know, our motto has a pretty nice ring to it in your language. Maybe that's something to hold onto during your last moments."

A faint beep was heard on the other end, then the same noise from before, the familiar sound of a book dropping onto the floor, only infinitely louder than before.

We are peaceable out of necessity, and because of it we are the most powerful race in this galaxy.

For a Human to kill another takes but a moment, a sharp knife or even just a few ounces of pressure and a man can be easily killed, his corpse discarded as a worthless sack of meat. Indeed, if there has been one constant throughout Human history it is that we have always found new and more creative ways to kill one another, ways to kill one another more quickly.

We invented the spear, the sling, the bow and arrow, the cannon, the musket, bombs and nuclear weapons, out latest achievement is the power to simply snuff out a star thus condemning an entire solar system to death.

We are a violent vengeful species, yet throughout our wars and bloodshed ever evolving we spawned another weapon. Honor, brotherhood, a place to belong, and a reason to fight.

Once we fought to feed our bellies and rut with our mates in the dirt, and we still do on occasion. Now though, we fight for grander ideals. We fight not for ourselves, but for those whom do not whish to fight and those who can no longer fight. The bonds we form with one another, those not of our lineage whom we call brother and friend, it is not a pact we enter lightly nor one we toss aside with ease.

The Yunik of Mordanin were perhaps the most powerful species in this quadrant, indeed on our first encounter with them in deep space out ships and troops were easily dispatched and destroyed in gouts of plasmonic fire. Like in our past we held our hand out to them in kinship, as Humanity has done for every enemy in history. We do not wish to march towards war, we would rather have our pacts and vows ring empty in the air.

The Yunik laughed, saying they did not need a friend. Indeed even amongst themselves the Yunik were a violent race, much like the entities of every other race in these chambers. Survival of the fittest, every single culture here is based on that principal except my own.

The Yunik faught within their own ranks constantly, the strongest was the leader.

The Ryin follow much the same principal, if only more subtly poisoning and forming temporary pacts only to betray one another for personal advantage.

The Hicloo literally absorb their weaker peers, taking their memories and experiences adding it to their own.

Every race in this quadrant is constantly at war not only with everyone else but with themselves. Each member of the race only cooperating for their individual benefit, their individual advancement.

So yes, Humanity is the most peaceful species in this room.

We do not stab one another in the back, we do not fight for ourselves. We fight for those whom do battle beside us, and those who are behind us. The Yunik did not understand this, and for that error they paid the price of meeting on the battlefield an enemy that did not waiver, and through sheer force of will destroyed them.

The Yunik are no more, for the simple fact that Humanity has weaponized peace. We fight so that we might return to peace, return to our brothers in arms, and to our families. With our weaponized peace the more you try to fight us the more powerful we will become if only to return to it.

So I ask this assembly, who among you is willing to make peace with Humanity?

Come say hi over at r/CGWilliam

Humans are a pretty violent race, right? The Holocaust, ISIS and Al-Qaeda and the Taliban, the 2028 Brazilian Slaughter, the African Multi-Genocide, and the triple bombing of Shanghai, Tokyo, and Jakarta in 2076. In those incidents combined, over 116 million people were killed. Not to mention the countless other catastrophes, wars, attacks, etc in the past two hundred years. Pretty brutal, probably more so than any other species in galactic history?

Wrong.

When humans first made contact with a sentient species, the Krzclahz in 2079, we were shocked when they praised our passive nature. After negotiating and researching their planet, called Krkluckrn, we realized how brutal their culture was. Annually, two entire civilizations are wiped out a year. Millions of Krzclahz sick and tired of the violence colonized a nearby dwarf planet to create a more peaceful society. Only three years into the society, several Krkluckrn governments allied to kill everyone on the dwarf planet. The population of the planet was over four million.

That atrocity itself pales into comparison to the Orgorgogols of the Grolugig System. In 2085, we made contact with them through the Krzclahz and we were introduced to their society. They have a quadra-annual ritual where every child born on the fourth year is killed on the final day of that year. The entire planet supports it—literally no one speaks out against it. In fact, pregnancy rates are highest in the fourth year. Apparently it’s some sort of honor to have a child slaughtered.

Then there are the Yujiklei, terrifyingly close to Earth. They are a brutally belligerent people. They consider it a shame to not have multi world wars occurring at once. Due to their lack of weapons of mass destruction, they managed to keep the population alive. They can’t destroy vast amounts of people at once, but they still do manage to kill more than eighty million in war each year.

The fourth and final sentient species we have accurate data on are the Fajkl of the Truguli’fhajkl-deshinar (Deshinar System of Fhajkl). They’d settled four of the planets in their system, each one abhorrently war-torn. Until about 2070 in Earth years, the planets had remained disconnected, only engaging in trade and “peaceful” communications. Then two of the planets went to war. After several months of destruction, one of the planets grew tired of the fighting. So, naturally, they deployed every single weapon of mass destruction on the planet and fired it at their opponent. The explosion was so massive, so destructive that the entire planet broke. Literally shattered. No one survived. Thirteen billion people lived on it, and every single one was killed. The people on the winning side celebrated their victory without qualm.

So yeah, the humans are not as violent as we think. Sure, we definitely could tone back, but at least we have a moral compass on warfare and a perception of the value of sentient life. These other species have no care for anyone besides themselves. They glorify, worship warfare to an extreme no one on Earth could ever have thought possible, and that makes humans both comforted and terrified.

World leaders on Earth have formed a nearly global alliance to keep this peace. The only reason the Fhajkl and the Orgorgogols haven’t decimated us is because they’re so admiring of our peace. They find it entertaining and comical. We intend to keep it that way.

Humans do their fair share of inhumane atrocities, but our inhumanity pales in comparison to the violence of these four other species. We’re caught here, unsure of if we should intervene for galactic peace or if we should just let these civilizations destroy each other, and then carry on without having to worry about being destroyed. It’s a difficult moral question, but the only moral issue I’m concerned about is that humans are way more advanced than these other species.

It’s thoughts like these that make me proud to be a human.

Feel free to check out my novel at r/penofigilix/!

Earth isn't so bad, you know. It's not uncommon for our people to take small ventures to underpopulated parts of it. Out in the desert, for instance, our people would often stop in low orbit of Earth; their primitive satellites have not yet advanced to the point where we are picked up on radar; they've barely made it past nuclear fission without blowing themselves to extinction, and were probably only a few hundred years off from FTL travel, if they can get their climate situation sorted out. Anyway, it's a nice little vacation spot. Well it'd be nice to call it that.

Not too long ago, the Drukeis Collective, a rival multistellar empire, declared war on our people. They did it in the traditional fashion, of warping their planet cracking ships within range of our second homeworld and, completely without warning, hyper-boiling its molten core to prompt cataclysmic volcanic eruptions. (Our original homeworld had already been rendered uninhabitable by Ximinid spores, which devoured all the live and expanded until there was nothing but a planet-spanning, writhing purple biomass). So a meager fleet of refugee ships that was downright lucky to have evacuated in time, bore a tactical retreat to our Empire's third colonized planet, which was to bear the title of our third homeworld.

After a jump of 17 parsecs, the fleet had to take shore leave in order to allow for the warp engines to cool down. A small crew in disguises-- fairly simple SEP field generators, really-- went down to experience some human culture. That besides, our mating season's coming up, and I've been hoping that a nice little date to an Earth restaurant might get a certain J'orra's consideration.

One thing I never really get over is how Earth's humans developed weaponry. During one of their worst wars, as we observed, they came up with some pretty devastating weaponry for their time. Particularly chemical mists that horribly maimed their enemies. But then, once that war had ended, all of these different countries of humans agreed to never use them again. And for the most part, they didn't. Then they figured out nuclear fission. We were all expecting them blow themselves to smithereens, but they didn't. Despite the thousands of nuclear warheads they developed, they only ever put the damn things into action twice. When we developed nuclear weaponry, back on our ancient homeworld, we irradiated an entire continent beyond habitation before we figured out we would be better off using them to defeat an invading Blynch fleet in our first contact.

Their ancestors were pack animals, and it shows in just how reliant they are on each other for every single facet of their lives. Our people will cooperate, but only for a common goal if nothing else. During these wars in which we observed, it was hardly an uncommon thing to see a soldier carrying his wounded comrade to safety. Other humans bandage him up, send him home. The healing process for the wounded can take multiple orbits, as their tissue engineering technology is still very young, but through it all, the wounded will typically be assisted. Where our people see it as an unnecessary diversion from a battle plan at worst and a waste of resources at best, they see it as a strength, a sense of loyalty.

So it's going to be a damn shame when we make our move to annex them into our Empire.

Carsax is not an inviting planet. Predators the size of houses stalk through the barbed, poisonous grass. The ripping winds that scour its continents carry particles of sand at speeds high enough to scar and kill any caught in the open. The oceans are filled with whirlpools, which carry toxic sulfur from the volcanic vents that boiled below.

The Carsax themselves are the apex predators of a planet of apex predators. They fight, they kill, and they thrive. Survival of the fittest is the name of the game. Children slay their rivals in school. Leaders challenge leaders to fights to the death. The strong rule, and the weak perish. This is the way of things, as it has always been. For millenia, the Carsax have built an empire that spans the stars.

They are not alone. On many planets, Apex predators gradually gain sociability and then sentience. The tentacled Aphose, the serpentine Naira, and the hulking Kor. The galaxy is in a state of constant war, the battle lines shifting, the fighting never ceasing. Within and without these great empires, Starships paint the skies bright yellow with plasma.

It was strange then, when after millenia of battle, the Carsax found themselves utterly subjugated.

It started a short 10000 years ago, on a planet deep in Carsax territory. Homo Sapiens, the most pathetic apex predator the Carsax had ever witnessed. Carsax scientists were, if anything, amused. An endurance predator? How novel. Humans could not even properly hunt prey (and herbivores at that)! They merely followed until their prey was too exhausted to move. Earth had generated the biggest joke of all time. Natural defenses? None whatsoever! In order to hunt with endurance (not strength!) they had completely bare, fragile, skin. Natural weapons? A single human was incapable of killing any animals it could catch, or catching any animals it could kill.

Yet, somehow, humans were advancing. They were advancing at an absurd rate. The Carsax could not comprehend such developments. There was not killing going on! Sure, there was a little. But so little. Children grew to adults without a single kill! Adults lived their entire lives without slaying another. But despite this ridiculousness, inventions were progressing at a rate that was unprecedented, across the galaxy. The Carsax scientist who discovered the species was quickly killed, so that another might steal humanity's secret.

It had been only 10000 years since first observation, and humanity had already entered an industrial era. And they were getting more peaceful than ever! How was this possible? Now, where technology was furthest, the least people were dying. The 6th Carsax scientist to inherit this post wished he had stolen more notes from the 5th before the latter had detonated his laboratory. Inventions were now rolling out at a rate that was frankly insane. These humans had covered 2 eons of Carsax accomplishment within a mere 200 years. It was actually... quite intriguing. Perhaps the Carsax way was wrong, perhaps they were not as strong as they thought themselves. Perhaps humanity's weakling strategy could be adopted, even in part. They would never survive the next step though, these weaklings could not possible survive the great war.

Scientist 6 was wrong of course. The humans had done the unthinkable. They had avoided the nuclear conflict. The one that had inevitably occurred in every apex predator race's history. When "America" finished the atom bomb, they had elected to simply avoid using it! They could have conquered the entire planet! Subjugated the "USSR" before it became a power! And yet, this foolishness had led to something else, something more. Technological progress was frankly astounding. Two factions, no war, and they had reached space approximately 2000 times faster than the Carthax. Scientist 7 was quite smug as he stood over 6's body; what a foolish, attention gathering publication he had made! A weakling preaching peace was unfit for an intelligence gathering post. "You deserve what's coming" he had said. Hogwash.

Humanity had discovered things like plasma weaponry and warp-light drives. They had spread to a few neighboring systems. Command was not particularly worried though; there was no way such a peaceful, weak species could possibly defeat them. They had killed scientist 7 when he suggested they were weak. The Carsax were the strongest race, and they would snuff this little blight out of existence.

As was fairly normal for missions like this, only one of the three ships made it to the system. After all, if only one ship was needed for survival, it was natural that the strongest captain would eliminate his competitors. The Scorching Wind would be taking this bounty alone. The battle that followed, though, defied all comprehension. The Human ships refused to flee! It was as if there was not survival instinct present at all. Ship after ship exploded, yet they kept coming! What idiots! Didn't they know that they were all likely to die? Were they perhaps too stupid to understand how outmatched they were? Their navigation appeared to be damage also. Several were on direct collision course. The Carthax captain could see their little faces, scrunched up and strangely expressive. Determination the computer chimed. The first ship had somehow been defeated, the humans had taken it down to their own planet. Command had changed though, and a new invasion by the Aphose was a far more pressing matter. Let the pathetic endurance hunters squabble over the pieces, they'd send a stellar lance later.

It had only been 75 years since the initial elimination squadron had arrived just outside Uranus's orbit. The Carthax empire was in a state of full collapse. Humanity was so weak, so peaceful. Humans balked at the idea of killing. They hated it when even one ship was lost. Water ran out of their eyes not only for their own deaths; they pitied their enemies! Yet, the galaxy learned, humanity was the most terrifying monster that had ever been produced.

A Kor historian wrote it thusly.

Unity

Humans stuck together, they protected each other, they worked almost as a collective. They gave up resources, they worked harder. They did this, not to their own benefit, but to the benefit of others. There was no killing, no stealing, no undercutting. The galaxy could not believe how efficient their system was. Supply chains, shipyards, an entire fleet materialized in barely two decades. Scientists collaborated, they helped each other. Every new idea was passed across their systems, analyzed, rehashed, and improved. It was like Humanity had a fetish for knowledge itself rather than power! The single ship was analyzed and reanalyzed. Within three decades, the Carthax found, to their dismay, that Humanity's fleet outnumbered their own.

Brotherhood

Humans never gave up, they never gave in, and they never ran away unless ordered to. The Carthax simply did not understand how to deal with such an opponent. In all galactic warfare, ships began to desert when attrition reached one tenth. Their entire system of combat was designed around assumptions like these. When their first armada was turned away, the Carthax captains spoke of something unheard of, Fear. Fighting humanity was like fighting the ocean tide or the desert wind. They would not run, they would not scatter, they would not turn. Like the sulfur waves, they simply kept coming and coming, reforming and repositioning. It was like they had no souls, no hearts, no rational fear. They were like the demons from Carthax myth. How can you fight demons?

Hope

Humanity's children were not like those of other races. They were innocent truly innocent. Innocent as only newborns are. They are not rational, they are not strong, and they do not know their limits. On the whole, a human child develops more slowly than those of any other race. They hold goals that are totally unrealistic, dreams that are totally unproductive. Yet, of the legions that fail to achieve their dreams, there are a scant few that succeed. A few abnormalities that drive humanity forward a a breakneck pace. Soon humanity was far beyond the rest of the galaxy. Their core worlds became invincible bastions. Their ships became like small gods; it was impossible to slow them down, let alone damage them.

And, in the end, what did Humanity do? When the Carthax fleet floated silently through space, and the Aphose home world stood in ruins. Did they conquer and destroy? Did they kill and loot?

Humanity offered its hope to the rest of the galaxy. They offered peace treaties and accords. Concepts that would once have been demeaned and ignored. Peace was spreading like a virus through what remained of the once great stellar empires. A new era had been reached. And, for the first time, the future seemed brighter than ever.

They came from the sky in burning fire. From Earth, they had said. From across the stars. They were a funny race, with their metal sticks that dripped fire and their tiny needles that they would prick each other with. We didn't realize they were greeting us at first. They threw bombs, they pricked us with their needles. They silently slit our throats. And we laughed.

The few of them that survived left the same way they came - in flames. Only this time, the flames consumed them. They screamed in agony as their flesh melted, as their blood boiled in their veins. They got a taste of true hospitality.

I told this story to my fifteenth kid as I tucked him in to bed. He began to cry, wailing into the night, piercing my ears. The neighbors screamed from across the yard. I squeezed my child's throat to shut him up, throttling him until his skin was blue and his eyeballs bled. But it was too late.

Zz'Rot from next door was at my window, a rocket launcher on his shoulder. He screamed a war cry, firing a missile directly at my forehead. I ran, faster than I ever had, diving into the living room as my son's bedroom was filled with flames and shrapnel. Now, where was it? I lifted up the couch and grabbed the 50-foot-long razor blade beneath it. Screaming my lungs out to the point where my mouth was filled with blood, I charged out my front door, blade on my shoulder. I hoisted the massive blade over my shoulder, and then swung it down on Zz'Rot, cutting him clean in two. His eyeballs fell out, his body slowly peeling apart, blood leaking from his legs in a crimson lake.

A siren called out from the city. Hordes of men and women flooded out of their doors. It was panic. Carnage filled the suburb, blood and bile filling the streets. There was not a single blade of grass, nor tree nor windowsill that was caked with steaming guts. A foul, wretched stench filled the air. And then all was silent.

I looked up to the sky, and it was peppered with bombs. One thousand thermonuclear warheads, screaming through the air. Aimed at me.

Heh.

It doesn't matter if we survive the apocalypse. There'll just be another one tomorrow.

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