Energy flashed from the ripped conduits. Sparks fell where the energy lashed the metal of the ruptured conduits. *#! looked at huddled behind the rubble fallen from the ceiling of their last base, the last bastion of the Sharp Streaks on Earth.
At least *# was not alone. Beside herm was %@. They were the last warriors holding the doors to the command center. Those doors would fall soon. Those doors would explode in with the full fury of humanity unleashed. They would have been nuked if the humans had not wanted what was in the base intact. The thought made herm shudder.
Humanity with the technology of the Sharp Streaks...
The Sharp Streaks could destroy that tech, but that would not be honorable.
*# looked at %@. It bothered herm. The whole quest had bothered herm. How could Sharp Streaks have lost to such a primitive race, such a primitive people, ones that had not crossed the stars. Ones that had now even left their /world/.
*# asked %@. Why?
%@ snorted. "What are we?"
"We are the warriors. The most successful ones in the galaxy. While we have not conquered its entirety, we have never met an enemy on the battlefield we have not beaten. Until now. So why?"
"You answer your own question. We are warriors."
"Yes, we are warriors."
"The humans are not," %@ replied, "that is why we are losing."
"If they are not warriors, what are they?"
"They are murderers."
The doors exploded inwards.
The two Sharp Streaks rose and began reciting their victories in battle. Even before the first victory was finished, they were cut down by the swarming humans.
*# gasped, sputtered and could not rise. No honor. No honor.