Have you ever looked at a young human and thought "this is a creature that should terrify me"? I have. My unit came upon an educational facility. We had been scouting the planet, carefully, silently. The humans thought we were just tourists, we did our best to blend in. Find their weaknesses, they seemed to have many. But it was not until what we sat in that educational facility that fateful evening that convinced all of us that this colony was not to be touched. In fact, we were to avoid this place at all costs. We needed to find other prey elsewhere. We were told they were going to do a gentle ceremony for their instructor who was retiring. Something simple that the students, who had loved this instructor very much, could do for him. But when we saw the ceremony, we saw those faces, before the ceremony, during, and after. And that horrific chant, that terrifying sound. Their expressions before, one of caring, it was meant to honor their instructor, but it convinced us all, even their young were dangerous.
-- Anon Guest
There is nothing, nothing more chilling than a group of Humans moving and chanting in unison. Regardless of the age, gender, and physical condition of the Humans involved. Regardless, in fact, of what they are moving and chanting in unison to.
Of the terrifying capacity for Human synchronisation little is more horrifying than a group of grade schoolers performing the Haka. Outsiders not used to observing such displays go through a chain of reactions that begins in, "Aaaw, cute," and ends in, "Not cute! NOT CUTE! RUUUUNNN!"
The Haka, like many things beginning in Deathworlds, is a display of strength, discipline, fortitude, and co-ordination. When performed by Human neophytes, it is once again a reminder that even their fragile young are capable of far much more destructive power than most adult Galactic Citizens[1].
Even though the ceremony is used now to show respect to leaders or the opposition on the sports field, its ancestry as a prelude to battle is still clear. Look at this field of warriors. See how the chief leads them in this ritual. Hear the stamping of their feet on the ground. See how they repeatedly smack their own muscles, showing they can withstand pain. Witness the uncomfortable and tense stance.
See how they glare at you. Are they selecting which one of you they will kill first? Hear their terrible loudness, and even more frightening, the disciplined silence. We have trained for this and we are confident. Are you? Are you?
Are you sure?
Because we are.
Second only to Welsh football team supporters' ability to simultaneously sing their team song from the first word, ceremonies like the Haka only emphasise the belief in a Human hive-mind.
My buddy, also watching this group of half-grown Humans chanting and posing in unison, leaned over to murmur in my ear. "You sure we're the ones guarding them?"
I leaned back, "Honestly, I reckon we're along to make sure they don't happen to anyone else."
When the Humans heard that, they thought it was funny.
[1] Parents of the very same neophytes insist that their own young are at their most destructive shortly after they learn to walk upright. Humanity is at its most dangerous when it is also the most vulnerable. The only creature more dangerous is a Human parental who believes that you are endangering their young.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / CreativeFire]
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