Sneaking forwards Kalif slowly tilted his ears to either side and waited in the darkness. Not sensing anything he slowly crept forwards towards the statue, and the artifacts in its base.
Slithering as silently as possible Kalif focused his eyes on the objects, as if afraid they might disappear at any time. Reaching the statue and coiling himself up to better hide himself in the darkness of the town square Kalif stared down at the items, he had seen them from afar earlier in the day and before then he had never really paid the statue any mind.
The alien thing in the pedestal had been another of the odd artworks displayed throughout the city, the color was more subdued and the creature atop it more alien than anything else, but he had never looked down into it.
“Molt, what are you doing here?” came a voice from the darkness behind Kalif.
Already tense the younger member of the species shot up into the air, his body uncoiling and fur going straight in alarm.
Twisting in the air and landing Kalif was faced with the old streetcleaner, a man who could be seen at any hour of the day in the city tirelessly working to clean what little grime marred the solid stone roads and works of art.
“Uh, I uh,” Kalif glanced back at the statue and then at the old streetcleaner.
The man slowly lowered himself down, his massive girth moving silently as he knelt down to match Kalif’s height even when he was up as high as he could hold himself on his body.
“Do you know what this is Molt?”
Kalif glanced back at the statue, “The Last Human.”
The streetcleaner chortled, “What do you think of it?”
Kalif frowned and looked back at the thing, “It looks funny.”
“That it does Molt, that it does. If you think Humans look funny though, you would not believe how strange they were in their actions. Everything the Humans did was odd.”
Moving slowly forward the streetcleaner leaned down and swinging away the statue base reached inside with one hand.
Kalif gasped as the man pulled out what had to be another piece of strange art. A small metal tube engraved with intricate and alien geometric designs. The lines were harsh, and direct. Each small shape scored into the metal was ugly, but from a distance the small shapes disappeared revealing a larger design.
An alien animal, dozens of alien animals stared back at him through the metal.
“What do you think?” asked the streetcleaner holding it out and moving slightly into the glow of one of the lamps around the statue.
“What is it?” breathed Kalif.
“A weapon, a human weapon.”
Griping the tube more tightly the streetcleaner shook it and Kalif watched stunned as a blade popped out of it.
“A knife?” asked Kalif as he leaned forwards to look at it, “They put art on their weapons?” asked Kalif sounding horrified.
The streetcleaner reaching into his belt and pulling out a cleaning unit passed it over the knife/art several times before slowly folding the blade away he put it back in the pedestal.
“Not on all of them, but the Humans were like that paradox upon paradox.”
“They would fight wars, but want peace!” said Kalif remembering what he had learned in history about the aliens.
The streetcleaner pulled down his fur crests amused.
“They did that,” reaching into the pedestal again the streetcleaner carefully extracted another artifact.
Holding it aloft the streetcleaner set the object down. Kalif took a quarter-body length back as the small device activated and a small hologram popped up in front of the two of them. Bright blue and green Kalif looked at the projection for a moment confused, the continents were in the wrong place for it to be Rhun.
“This is Earth, Humanities home world. What does it look like to you Molt?”
Kalif tore his eyes away from the projection for a moment, “It looks like home.”
The streetcleaner slowly bowed his body in agreement, “Which is what our ancestors thought, and it is why we attacked them.”
Kalif frowned, remembering his history.
“During the Rule of Taner?”
The streetcleaner smiled, “Yes, during the rule of Taner when the military families sought to expand our domain as they have always done. You are not of the military families Molt, but you know what they teach correct?”
“Fight to protect, kill only for others and if you cannot save.”
The streetcleaner wearily put his ears down, “That is what is taught now, do you know the old motto Molt?”
“No.”
“Kill to protect, expand to protect, others are enemies.”
Kalif felt his fur flatten, “Really?”
“Really. You know how we many world’s those families took Molt?”
“Something like 50 planets?”
“56. The military families took 56 planets from the Humans, they burned them to the ground, took everything and killed ever last human on those worlds.”
Kalif slumped back down towards the ground, “They killed everyone on them?”
The streetcleaner paused for a moment looking at the Kalif, his eyes looking almost cold in the darkness of the warm summer night.
“How old are you Molt?”
Kalif puffed up his fur and stood up on the last point of his body, “I am 4 years old!”
The streetcleaner considered him for another moment, “You are old enough to know the truth then. The military families killed them all, across 56 worlds. All to take their own planet,”
“Why?”
“The planet was the closest match to our own we had ever found in the cosmos, and it was the best place to expand into. Why not take it from creatures who spend their days decorating weapons instead of using them?”
The streetcleaner was silent for a moment, “We should have learned what it meant. Can you guess?”
Kalif drooped his ears, “No.”
“You are from an Arts Family Molt, would you ever decorate a weapon?”
“Never! Weapons are ugly by their very nature!”
“The Military families though along the same lines Molt, that if the humans decorate their weapons it is perhaps an oddity, but Molt the humans do not have the Families as we do. Their artists did not decorate their weapons, the military humans decorated their own.”
Reaching into the statue again and drew out a sheaf of metal, burned and scorched Kalif could barely make out the image of a human on it. It was devoid of many coverings, and as far as Kalif could tell some of its proportions were wrong. He wasn’t sure though.
“We never thought Molt, that if their military can make art, perhaps their artists could be a military. When the military burned their worlds the humans fought, and although they lost so did we. Billions in the military families from dozens of worlds died. In the beginning it was easy our military families were strong and they decimated the Humans.”
The streetcleaner pointed back at the globe.
“As the military families fought to reach their earth, they noticed that the number of military personnel increased, and continued to do so even as their population dwindled. Humans are even slower to reproduce then we are Molt, yet more warriors came to each battle, more ships, more weapons. The humans who made art, made food, cared for the young, the humans who invented and innovated, who called for peace and all put down what they had learned, and picked up a weapon.”
The streetcleaner turned away from Kalif.
“In space they struck at as in droves, breaking the military families by sheer numbers alone. On the surface of planets, they used guns and knives, or stones and weak fists if nothing else was available.”
The streetcleaner went silent and Kalif shifting on his body looked at the man.
“What happened next?”
The streetcleaner looked up, “We won. We killed them, some Humans escaped into the void, but Molt you know what happened to the military families right?”
Kalif’s ears went up, “They lost majority! Is that why the Art families, and Agriculture families are in charge now?”
“It is, and they were the first to see what the Humans had done. Your art Families looked at it and proclaimed it to be art, the way Humans could change their families at will and learn, adapt.”
Kalif absorbed this and bounced up and down, “Then it’s why I get to learn what it’s like to be in a military family when I turn 7? My Father says he never go to do that!”
“It is!”
Kalif bounced up and down excited for a moment as the streetcleaner put the objects away and back into the base of the pedestal.
Suddenly Kalif paused mid bounce, “You said some survived?”
“I did.”
“Will they come back?”
The streetcleaner stilled, “I think they will. You have little to fear Molt.”
“They won’t kill us?”
“They will try. But when that happens, you will know how to pick up a weapon won’t you Molt?”
“I will!”
The streetcleaner slid back down slightly, “You’re going to need it, so learn well Molt.”