Simply a happy girl

A gravelly voice complained, “They didn't come activated? No wonder they were so cheap.”

I looked up from the supplies I was unloading from the hoversled to find our ship’s mechanic slapping an irritated tentacle against a box. A long narrow box that could have held anything from beach umbrellas to Mesmer fashion accessories, but probably held spaceship parts.

I asked, “What’s not activated?”

“These,” Mimi grumbled, ripping open an end of the box and reaching several pale green tentacles in to retrieve rods of translucent gray. “I thought I could install them right away, but apparently not. Breakwater. This always takes forever.”

While I was trying to figure out if that was a swear word or something else, Zhee piped up from the other side of the hoversled. “I’ll see if Blip and Blop are free.” He folded his pincher arms and clicked away toward the hall.

Mimi waved a tentacle instead of nodding. “Yeah, they’ll be the best at it. Thanks.” He pulled the rest of the rods out, laying them on the floor of the cargo bay and counting them. “At least they’re all here.”

I kept unloading boxes, but I was curious. “What do you have to do to activate them?”

Mimi rolled a couple idly. “Mix the internal components. There’s a barrier to snap, then they have to be swung around just so.”

I perked up. “Like glowsticks?”

Ok. This one is rough, I’m not gonna lie. But I’ve been in a funk and have missed yall so I’m forcing myself to post this lol. There r prob gonna be some grammatical errors but I did my best to research the sciency stuff

“What… What the hell” Xeno 549’s translator struggled to convey its shock and confusion upon landing upon the human’s main home called “earth”.

“What?” Asked Human Erica, already skipping off the ship onto the solid soil made up of water, dust, carbon, and other natural materials. The thing that she walked on so casually, that was so plentiful that humans lived their entire lives without thinking about it twice, was more rich in carbon based life than anywhere else 549 had known so far. 

Ignoring the obvious, saving the less pressing questions for later, 549 simply said “It’s… the water leaking from the sky. I’d heard of this phenomenon, but had thought it was just a children's tale. You mean to tell me it’s real?”

The human stopped her skipping, turning around and facing the alien, in its few weeks of exposure to humans, had not yet been able to interpret the expression on the human’s face

“Yeah? It rains diamonds on both Uranus and Neptune. What’s so spectacular about water?” she questioned innocently, clearly not understanding the scope and magnitude of what she was saying. 

While most creatures in the close enough galaxies to travel to had ammonia or methane based life, water was still a huge production factor in many countries of many planets. Hell, ammonia and methane are plentiful in many atmospheres, but raining in drops like this? And even less common, it being water? That was simply a miracle. 

In less than 2 seconds, a crashing sound rumbled around them and a blinding flash of white light screamed and threw itself at the carbon based soil. 549 barely had time to even scream before human Erica tilted her head back and laughed.

Later, after the terrified crew took cover in the ship and gathered the humans in one place, the questioning began.

“So, you’re telling me that humans can only survive in a range of 230 K to 323 K, a range of only 93 DEGREES, but LAUGH and welcome liquid life falling from the sky and electricity striking anything high and metal. The electricity being, in human terms, 300 million volts, which is the equivalent of 2 million, 5 hundred thousand of the most common electrical outlets?!”

“Yeah” said human Jake, not bothering to elaborate

Alr. So I was sitting and watching TV some family members and had my head propped up on my hand. I looked around and everyone else was either doing that, or leaning their heads on something. Like, how do we explain that aliens? 

Like imagine a group of humans sitting and watching TV in the common room of the ship and an alien walks in

Day 3 onboard of the human’s ship as an intern.

“Today, I decided to join the humans in the common room for some team bonding, since the stories of their fucked-uppedness seem to be largely over-exaggerated. 

Upon walking in, I observed the humans all resting their heads on either their hands or the back of their chairs!! The TV was on in the background but all the humans seemed lifeless! I started to scream, but as I did, all the humans sat up and appeared startled. 

The humans became slightly angered and asked me why I was screaming, so I tried to ask them why their heads were too heavy for their necks. Upon further conversation, it was revealed that they do that when tired? I’m still not quite sure why that means that their heads aren’t too heavy for their necks, since they often struggle to hold them up without conscious effort when sitting, but I’m too concerned to ask them. 

Basically just: what if aliens aren't used to laughter (ft- no names bc idk what ocs this would apply to)

___

Alien: -and that is how I found out that the hair on some humans heads is actually something called a wig and that I hadn't accidentally somehow shocked them into losing all their head hair

Human:*bursts out laughing* Oh my god

Alien: HUMAN ARE YOU ALRIGHT? ARE YOU CHOKING?

Human : *laughing even harder at the misunderstanding* YEAH NO *WHEEZING*DON'T WORRY

Alien: SAYING YEAH NO IS NOT VERY REASSURING...

Alien: OH MY LORDS YOUR FACE IS TURNING RED! HUMAN???

*meanwhile the human is slowly making their way towards the ground wheezing because their legs are giving out*

Alien: I HAVEN'T RESEARCHED HOW TO PERFORM THE HEIMLICH MANEUVER YET THIS IS THE WOOORST TIME FOR THIS

Human: *through wheezing* I swear I'm alright

Alien:I'LL GO GET A DOCTOR HOLD ON *already heading through the door* DOES ANYONE HERE KNOW HOW TO DO THE HEIMLICH MANEUVER???-

*a few minutes later*

Alien:... so you're telling me that humans just sometimes get so amused that their lungs spasm and they struggle to breath???

Human: *still kinda giggling* yes

Alien:... Well I guess that is good to know. I'll try to avoid being too amusing in the future.

Human: nooo, laughing is a positive thing

Don't you think at least some species of alien would it find it odd how prone we humans are to pack bonding? And how would they react to meeting a human whose need for connection has NOT been met?

Right now, we are thinking lonely little teenage boy has decided, fuck it, these aliens wanna scan my brain and I've got nothing to lose. They have observed his peculiar behavior and lack of pack bonding. And his quite snarky attitude. So, anyway, you got a brain scanning thingy pictured, alright? Yes? And these aliens, well, they're not even remotely prepared for what they find.

Originally they thought the whole bonding with anything and everything was just a weird thing we do for fun. But no. We NEED it. They test other humans who also have little to no one, and most results just all come out with the same deep longing for connection. The same incompleteness. The same something that doesn't have a name and can't be communicated into words, only being described as a deeply rooted need to be understood.

Imagine them finding that. I like to think that they would have a new found sense of sympathy for the bleeding, lonely hearts of humans. It's not an earth shattering topic, I know. Maybe it would give them a new perspective on just how much Human Bob absolutely NEEDS to see his friend Human Roger when he whines about being on opposite sides of the ship. Ooh, maybe they would implicate a Human Buddy System, just so nobody is alone. Ah, the poor introverts.

They share food.

Steve: What?! What's wrong?

A: A temporal vortex has opened in the area! From the clothing of those humans, it seems to be connected to roughly 500 solar years ago!

S: Wha...Oh, those are medieval re-enactors.

A: They're what?

S: Re-enactors. People who like to dress up and do things like they were done in a past time. Armored combat, crafts, they even have full feasts and royal courts.

A: And humans do this for fun.

S: Yep. And it's also an interesting way to learn history.

A: But isn't that dangerous?

S: Well, any simulated combat has some risks, but they do take precautions.

A: No, Human Steve! I mean, if you have humans running around like that, how can you tell if a real temporal vortex opens up?!

Human 1: Go on, you’ve got this!

Alien: You’re telling me that most things in the universe emit invisible molecules into the air. And that you can… that you have an entire dedicated organ for- I can’t.

Human: No, no, go on, you’re doing great.

Alien: You have an organ that can detect the SHAPE of these invisible molecules so that you can distinguish between them???

Human *beaming with pride*: Yes! That’s exactly it!

Alien: What’s this even useful for?!

Human: Okay, so for one I can find things even without seeing where they are just by my sense of smell.

Alien: …. Right.

Human: And there’s some gasses that are dangerous when not handled properly, but we can’t see them- you know, like propane. So we artificially add a smell to it, so then when there’s a gas leak, we can detect it quickly!

Alien: Alright, sure I guess that can be helpful-

Human: And some things make smells that are just really unique to the point of being able to make us recall a memory from an even in the past where we smelled the same thing!

Alien: …

Human 2 *walking by and overhearing the conversation*: I’m so glad I finally got rid of my cold, it was so bad I couldn’t smell anything for a week! I mean I bought this really nice perfume when we were last on Earth, and couldn’t even try it out!

Human 1: Hey! It’s good to see you’re doing better again! And, I mean *steps closer to the other human* the perfume smells lovely!

Alien: ????

Human 2: Oh and the worse thing about loosing my smell was that all my food tasted bad!

Alien *beyond confused at this point*: Your food? Why would the taste of your meal depend on the shape of the molecules it emits into the air? You’re not eating the air, are you?!

Human 1: Oh, yeah, so basically our nose and mouth are so close together-

Human 2: And connected on the inside by the nasal cavity!

Human 1 *cheerfully*: Yeah! That! So basically so much of our taste is connected to our sense of smell that there are debates being lead about if they’re not actually two parts of the same sense.

Our first attempts to create human proof research enclosures were terrible failures.

Walls or fences with even the slightest imperfections can be scaled by a species evolved from climbers.

Doors with sophisticated locks will last for a little while, but they are tool users and will pick or jimmy locks eventually.

So we went back to the tried and tested moat method. Terrestrial species fear large bodies of water and as long as they cannot wade or jump the distance a moat works well.

Except it doesn't.

At first we thought they were hiding on their island. Humans can be secretive and create hiden nests. Then one of our store room alarms was activated.

By the time we got there the room was stripped.

One of our camera operators called in a panic to report a footage review showing humans in the moat, actually swimming, before the survellience for the entire capture wing went down.

Humans are multi environment. How did they evolve that way? Why do climbers swim? It's as ridiculous a concept as swimmers learning to fly!

Now they are in the main control room and we have locked ourselves on the lower maintence deck.

If you are unable to fight you are not peaceful, you are harmless. Only when you have the capacity for violence and yet choose not to use it are you truly peaceful. This is an important lesson learned when humans encounter aliens who have never met a species like them before.

The new species to enter into negotiations with the Trade Federation were not wholly unlike many others.

They travelled in groups and were highly social, an important trait where cooperation was agreed as a universal requirement to gain technological advancement.

When the Ambassador and their entourage arrived they gave their official designation name to be Human and their planet of origin Earth, a word which our translators seem to think means something like ‘fertile ground’.

With the Ambassador came the priests, at least or so we thought. They carried talismans and wore ornate clothing, speaking little, and behaving in accordance with strict hierarchy, just like the monks of the ancient worlds. It spoke to us of a thoughtful and careful people, certainly the Ambassador consulted frequently with the senior priestess known by her title of General.

Our chosen negotiation centre was the planetoid of Jaril, close enough to Human territory to not put them too far out of their way and yet also not too far for us. We hoped it would become a good neutral trade site once we discovered what we held in common.

The grave mistake of ours was to assume it was also a site far enough from the Tarma for them to not take an interest. The Tarma are an unusual species in that they are evolved from apex predators, a situation we thought impossible until they first burst into our territory. What form of predator is social and cooperative enough to advance? It turns out some apex predators turn spare time between hunts into complex mating rituals requiring feats of intellect and ingenuity, for which family groups will band together to get the best bloodlines.

Still, the Tarma are a huge problem when most of us are the survivors of prey ancestors whose cooperation was essential to survival from predation.

When their ships were spotted we prepared to do as we have always done, to retreat and reconvene in a safer location at a later date.

Then the human Ambassador turned to the General and said, “I believe this is where I hand over to you.”

The General bared her teeth in the most disconcerting way as she smiled. “I believe it is.”

Before we could begin our evacuation, the human priests did what we at first mistook for a starburst escape. We were horrified when their tiny ships navigated towards the Tarma, we thought they were about to be slaughtered.

The Tarma were no more prepared for what happened next than we were.

The Human Ambassador was not travelling with priests, he was travelling with warriors. I will swear on my herd’s life, I saw the most peaceful and reserved creatures turn from monk to exterminator in moments and I was thoroughly shocked to my core.

In less than a Human hour the Tarma had fled and the General calmly returned command to the Ambassador.

“But, we thought you were a peaceful people.” My diplomacy, I fear, suffered for the stress of the situation.

“We are.” the Ambassador reassured us. “We come in peace to trade, to explore, and to learn. We mean no harm to anyone who does no harm to us.”

“How can you claim to be harmless when you did that?” I gestured to the debris still visible from the viewing window.

“If I may.” the General spoke softly. “We stated from the start we are a peaceful species, perhaps you simply mistranslated the meaning of our words. We are not evolved from prey, nor from apex predators. We are from a place in the middle, we are the hunted and the hunter. You mistook us for a harmless species, when in fact we can do a great deal of harm, we simply choose to reciprocate peace.”

We have a new and powerful ally now.

The new species are immune

We found them in a Bunt'az bunker from the last war. They entered it innocently to explore, not knowing it was an outpost that was far from safe. Our warning alarms were triggered as they entered the atmosphere and we were deployed to investigate. Sometimes ships veer into danger accidentally, and it is our job to lead them back to safety.

Their ship, a strange bulky craft with odd untranslatable hieroglyphs, was on the main landing pad by the time we arrived.

There was no one in the ship, they were all inside. We knew the chances of them being hurt or killed increased with every moment so we donned our armour and raced in as quickly as we dared.

They were there having already disabled two traps, how they knew what to look for and how we have still dared not ask them.

The third trap, the nastiest one, was set off while we were still an airlock behind them. We were safe, but they were surely dead. Air ducts pumped the toxic chemical into the room while sealing the door.

I watched them through the door, one turning to look up at the vent as the fans whirled into life. Handheld instruments were raised into the air, chemical detectors.

Expecting to watch them panic, I instead saw the unthinkable.

One of them reached up and unclipped their helmet. They took it off and stood in the midst of the most toxic environment the Bunt'az ever created, reacting with every sign of pleasure.

This may sound horrific, but I swear on the life of my hatchlings it is true, Humans can survive in pure oxygen. Not only that, but they have since told me they used it to help their sick. Yes, to help.

Humans are feared Shamans, their music can heal the sick or inspire armies, but on one very black day, in the very worst of times, you may discover the power of their silence.

Human music is a magical thing and the Dran have learned to fear it, but sometimes their silence is worse.

I only learned this after I died. Ha, that is a exaggeration, another habit picked up from time spent with humans who are the greatest of storytellers, but on this occasion it is not far from the truth. In fact, I fully expected to die and my squad did believe I was dead.

We were caught in an ambush, Dran all around with little chance of escape.

I was shot and as I fell I slipped down into a ravine. I remember little of it, only the pain and the sensation of tumbling before my body shut down protectively.

What I know is what I have been told by my old squad and what little Andy will admit to me.

For many cycles now I have considered Andy to be as a pouch brother. This might seem strange, humans are terrifying and awe inspiring creatures, but we have been through so much that now to watch our younglings play together is like watching the family clan.

Back when I was shot, Andy was mortified. He was dragged away by the squad when they discovered a chink in the Dran line. There was no way they could get to me and not one of them doubted they had seen me die, something I do not blame them for when when the chances of my survival were so slim.

That night they found a place to rest, but Andy refused to sing or even sleep. He spent the night staring into the darkness, a sentinel radiating pure fury. His anger was so clear it kept the squad from resting too and their own thoughts turned as angry as his.

When he did speak it was to announce his intention to go back for me. No one could convince Andy it was foolish, he would not believe I was dead until he saw my body for himself, and then he would make sure I got the burial I deserved. It may mean little to us, but humans show great reverence to the dead and most especially those they treasured in life. 

By this time I was awake again although I wished I were not. The Dran dragged me out of that ravine and threw me into a transport cart, not tending to my wounds or giving any thought to my pain as is typical of them.

I could see nothing, I could only hear the fighting. There were yells and screams, shots fired, even an explosion which sounded very like the humans who fight with us, they do like to make things explode.

When the cart door opened I was expecting a Dran executioner, instead I saw Andy.

He was bathed in blood and gore, his eyes burned with anger which melted the moment he saw me looking back at him. That was one of the few times I have seen his tears.

No words were spoken, he picked me up with his customary ease and threw me over his shoulders.

The next time I woke, Andy was playing his guitar at my bedside. I was safe, comfortable, and relaxed, he did everything to aid my recovery with his gentle music.

That was the only time Andy did not sing to the squad before going into battle and they told me the effect was more powerful than anything less than the death metal. Our Shaman vibrated pure and unadulterated rage, it rolled off him like fog battling the dawn sun, and it led them to slaughter every Dran between them and me.

The third time I was captured by the Dran, I know I’m up to five now it’s rather embarrassing, I was again with Humans. This time I knew what to expect, or so I thought.

The Dran thought they knew what to expect as well. They ensure anything musical was smashed and they made it clear there would be terrible punishments for any Human attempting their magic.

After the traditional threats and beating, I was chained to a wall in an empty room which was far too big for just me, but I wasn’t alone for long.

A Human female was pushed into the room by two heavily armed Dran. I don’t know if I’ve described the females to you before, but most of them are even smaller than the males and they tend to grow their head fur into improbably long manes. I’ve never been bold enough to ask if it is a show fertility or some kind of mating ritual, but they even change the colour of their mane on a regular basis, whatever the reason I’m not sure I want to know.

Anyway, this female was covered in a distressing amount of red blood but she still hissed and snarled at the Dran in a way they recoiled from even as they chained her to the same wall as me. I had met her before and was relieved she was still alive. Ree-beka she called herself, but when I stumbled over her name she insisted I instead use Becky.

When she saw me she smiled and winked, a gesture I learned to fear because it meant she had a plan. Then, unaccountably, she asked me to turn my eyes away. I could only hear strange noises of effort and then I had to turn back as I heard a sound I recognised.

Becky was cutting through the chains with a mini-laser torch! How did she hide that from the Dran?!

“Let’s just say they don’t know about cavity searches.” Becky cleared her throat. “Don’t ask.”

I didn’t.

Once both our chains were cut she moved her head rapidly to either side, her slender necking cracking in a distressing way.

“If you feel like Steve McQueen bang the walls!” she sang loudly, making me jump.

Bang! Bang!

“If you feel like Steve McQueen bang the walls!”

Bang! Bang!

I pleaded with her to stop, the Dran would kill her attempting to insight a riot in the prison.

“If you feel like Steve McQueen and you’re really really keen, if you feel Steve McQueen bang the walls!”

BANG! BANG!

I still quiver at the thought of what she did to the Dran who rushed into our cell. They had no idea she was armed and a laser torch does horrible things when jammed into the joints between armour.

How did she even know the way to kill them like that? We studied Dran physiology for years to learned such tactics, but the Humans all do it instinctively.

We grabbed door cards from the Dran bodies and, riding on the high of Human Magic, I joined Becky in releasing the other prisoners and slaughtering the Dran.

Three lines of music. It only took three lines to get the Humans prepared for battle.

I sat staring at my shiny claw, wishing they would go away but I knew they would not. They traveled a long way to hear my tale and I had to be honest even knowing all the possible consequences.

Andy was sent away. For days he sat at my bedside playing his healing music, suddenly without I could feel the anxiety, the fluttering ripple of my scales, but of course, they would want him nowhere near. They were terrified of the War Shamans and considered him one of the most powerful.

Eventually, I willed myself to speak.

‘I- I shouldn’t have stayed. Andy warned me, he called it a suicide mission, he said I should get on the last shuttle and let him hold the line with the last volunteers, but I had to stay. I had to do what I could to give the younglings time to escape. He said I should not listen, that he wanted to keep me sane, but I saw no point in that when I was ready to die.

The Dran drew closer, but the shamans were not ready for them, they were still preparing their equipment and getting the speaker ready. I thought we might get overrun, but a small group of human soldiers stepped forward. They said their name, other humans understood and let them step forward. I don’t remember it properly but it was Mori or Maru, something similar, Andy will know. They said they would do something called a Haka. I was expecting a song, another spell, but this was so much more. It was, a spell woven with the whole body, it was fire and anger and defiance, it was strength and power. The front ranks of the Dran faltered just from witnessing it. For those of us behind them, it was like an elixir.

I thought it terrible and beautiful. I thought nothing could raise me higher or make me stronger.

Then the Shamans were ready. Then they began their spell.

I do not think I will ever recover from what I did that day. I did not know I was capable of the savagery poured into me, at least those Dran I touched didn’t live long enough to suffer.

Andy knew what it would do to us, he knew and he warned us, remember that. Remember for all the pain and terror, he used it only for younglings to get away and he too expected to die.

I beg you to not ask him to play it for you, it will change you and I think not for the better.

The sound of human laughter is always disconcerting, even after all this time I struggle to reconcile it as a sound of pleasure rather than attack. I suppose the same goes for many human traits, although I find amusement in making Andy smile to scare the new members of our platoon.

Andy has been laughing at us a lot recently and I suppose it must be my fault.

Last planet fall, we were dropping off a small group of humans after rescuing them from the Dran. Among them were younglings, even newly hatched babies. So small, so helpless, it’s hard to believe what they grow into.

The magic of these people begins from hatching. We were all shocked to hear the younglings learning music, chanting lessons and squawking with joy as they changed words of spells to fulfill their needs.  

Many of the humans do not trust us, as we do not trust them, but because of Andy most will tolerate me. They believe their Shaman when he speaks of trusting me and they let me approach. For this, I was able to experience the magic of the parent, and for this Andy laughs at me.

One of the baby’s struggled to sleep, the mother said he had a thing called Colic, so he cried often. Struggling with her own need to sleep, the mother curled around the baby in the soft corner we made for them and began to sing softly.

There was so much love to it, even sat across the room it felt as though I was back in the pouch with my mother stroking my head.

I was asleep before the baby.

Andy’s laughter woke me. For an instant, I believed there was an attack, but no, the Shaman was fully baring his teeth and throat in that terrifying display of mirth. He lifted me up and took me to the food room while still amused.

It was only when eating that I realised I was entirely refreshed. I slept half as long as usual and yet was completely ready for a new day. After the things I have seen, I seldom sleep well these days, it is a hazard of battling the Dran to fear the dreams in the darkness.

I was amazed. I still am, by the magic of it. I told Andy what happened, I begged to know what special powers mothers have over other Shamans to soothe and heal.

The laughter stopped, Andy reached out to touch me in the way he has learned we confer absolute truth. He told me mothers are indeed magical, but fathers too can sing a baby to sleep.

Now, when the platoon needs to sleep fully and well before a mission, Andy laughs briefly then sings the lament of a bridge whose maintenance is lacking and which needs the most improbable things to repair it. The words do not matter, the feeling with them is enough. He speaks of it little, it pains him I think, but our Shaman is a father.

I was in a Dran prisoner of war camp when I first met Humans. We already knew about them, the poor, helpless, creatures who had their first colony world attacked by the warlords. When the fuzzy, little, things were pushed into the compound, of course, we tried to protect them, they don’t have an exoskeleton like Mantids, or retractable claws like us, they’re not even poisonous, not in conventional terms. We couldn’t understand why the Dran were so cautious around them, we should have known there was something amiss.

When Andy first ambled over to the food table I was fascinated by his colouring, I had no idea what tattoos were then or the pain Humans go through to get them, I thought they were painted on and they were beautiful. Humans were artists, it was another reason to protect them, you have to guard the dreamers who bring so much joy to life with their creations.

So we made space for them and the Humans quickly learned their way around. They were friendly and curious, always asking questions. We should have wondered about that. They wanted to know everything. They were already planning.

Then the Dran allowed the Humans something they should not have. It was an easy mistake to make, it seemed harmless. Many races use rhythmic sound to help regulate themselves, we are by no means unique in that respect, for eons we have used what Humans call Music to encourage our sick to maintain a healthy respiration speed. The Music calms us and can induce a trance-like state, so giving the Humans their instruments back seemed like a good idea.

Andy was particularly happy to be given his guitar. I thought his gift was drawing, but he said no, it was Music. When he joined the others to play it stopped the entire prison camp.

I never was brave enough to ask the name of their first piece, it was so sad it made my hearts ache and prompted the Holans to curl into tight balls and begin hibernation.

They were only warming up. Two more pieces roused all the Humans, who joined in a large group and raised their voices. Mass singing, it makes your plates vibrate. How they can manipulate their air sacs to create such rhythms is beyond me. I was just as entranced as the others.

Then Andy took his hands off the guitar and used his body to begin a new song.

Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap.

I can’t properly explain exactly what happened next.

The Humans began to radiate joy and defiance. The poor Banyees in the camp were awash with emotion, their empathy was overwhelmed by the Human reaction to their music.

Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap.

I, I was affected too. We all were, it was inescapable.

Human Music caused the riot which wiped out the Dran prison guards. The violence they prompted from us was horrific, but worse was the Human reaction.

Andy laughed when I later called him a War Shaman and asked what the name of the powerful spell was. “That was just ‘We will Rock you’, I nearly got us playing ‘Welcome to the Black Parade’.”

The most shocking thing in all of this is the Humans genuinely did not plan the riot, their plan was to use Music as a simple distraction while the real attacked occurred.

After a long and weary campaign, I found myself collapsed with my comrades in the corner of a plantation.

One of the few things we agree on with humans wholeheartedly is the beautiful aroma of the hypaya plant. To grow them is a difficult endeavour, they require exacting attention and perfect conditions, but the bitter sweet fruit makes for a dessert many of us would gorge on until our stomachs can contain no more and our throats shut protectively.

When Andy first caught the scent he breathed it in and before giving a contented sigh. “Chocolate.”

Saving that plantation was a morale boost for us all and of course a massive economic boost for the farmers whose lives and livelihoods we saved.

But as the sun went down and we feasted on the delicacies offered by those grateful farmers, we learned a new lesson about magic. We discovered how terrifying it is when in its purest form.

Seeing how exhausted we were, but how difficult it was for us to sleep, Andy promised the humans would watch over us and when we were rested we could return the favour.

I curled into a ball, comfortable and expecting the lament of London bridge, but instead came words I did not understand and yet were sung with the soft quality of the lullaby I learned to adore.

“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.”

                                         “Row, row, row your boat……

“Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

………….Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily….

What was that? How was it possible? Another voice joined in, another of Andy’s sacred band, singing over Andy in what should have been an awful noise. It should have clashed. As another voice added to the confusion it should have been a din.

It was hypnotic. I was paralysed, helpless. With each repetition their hold on me tightened, I could not breathe.  It was beautiful. I did not care that it was killing me, I wanted it to continue.

When my vision cleared, I saw Andy at my side, guitar in hand. His fingers were moving, tracing out the gentle reviving notes of the spell they learned when treating the wounded.

He saw my eyes focusing and the guitar was carefully set aside.

“I’m sorry.” word were sincere. “I promise you we’ll never do that again. I had no idea you’d react that way, I thought it would be just like a lullaby. I didn’t know how dangerous it was. We’ll make sure word gets sent out, it won’t happen again.”

“What did you do?” My own words were so quiet it shocked me. My strength was sapped. I discovered later I fell into a coma, if they had not noticed my plates change colour and realised the danger I could have died.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure. We just sung a round.”

It is a form of magic they teach to children! Death magic capable of mass slaughter and they use it to entertain each other around campfires.

Just when I thought Andy and his fellow shamans could no longer terrify me with their magic, they introduced me to a spell so raw and potent, so innate and natural to them.

Dran take away human instruments because they believe it enhances their magic. They do not realise the instruments are a form of control, a limiter, not a magnifier. Humans real magic is woven with nothing but their voices.