Supreme Warmaster Lzurg looked up; his three eyes boggling in awe and terror. The night sky was filled not with the familiar stars of his youth. The Human armada hung over the planet with finality, like a death sentence.

His adjunct, Undersquad Commander Hrug, thrummed his gelatinous thorax to grab Lzurg’s attention. “What should we do, Warmaster? The Council requests your presence immediately.”

Lzurg ignored the question. He craned his cranium up, up to the vast fleet of warships. His people were no match for them, no match at all. Now, they stood on the twilight of their kind; after this, his people would only exist in stories, like the Vreen and Koxads before them.

Despite the inevitability before him, Lzurg thought of his prime-wife, Lizza. She was part of 3rd Warfleet that fell to the humans in the Harachi system. He turned to his assistant. “Informing the Council of their impeding extinction may be the last task that brings me happiness before the end.”

---

“Warmaster, what will be the humans next steps now that they are in orbit of Homeworld?”

Lzurg didn’t bother to hide the look of disgust and contempt for the simpering and near-edible Vicecouncil Blurg. The holo-display in the main council chambers showed the fleet moving into coverage orbit around his defenseless planet. “If it was us, we’d commence orbital bombardment of Homeworld immediately after our fleet was situated, like we did with the Vreen. Unless they have been successful in their studies of our physiology to use bio-weapons. I expect Homeworld to be lifeless in about 2-3 weeks. They’ve ignored civilian targets up to now, aside from the Harachi system, but without our fleet, we cannot repulse them. After that, the human fleet will move outward to finish our extermination.”

The Council murmured and burbled amongst themselves. Lzurg could hear their shock, fear; his voice was the only one that sounded of tired resignation. None of these pampered cowards lost like the military had; like he had. The only belief he had any confidence in was how that would change very soon for these brood-runts.

Councillor Hruch seemed to measure the Warmaster before speaking. “Is there any change in your opinion of their messages? That the humans want peace and an alliance with us?”

He scoffed in response. “That’s not how the galaxy grips, Councillor. It’s kill or be killed. That’s just human propaganda to make us lower our defenses so we’re easier to kill.”

Hruch paused for a moment, his gripping tentacles stilled as if in thought. “Warmaster, have the humans had any problems destroying your mighty Warfleets with their defenses raised?” Lzurg did not have a response to that.

Hrug pointed to the display. “Look, Warmaster, the humans are sending invasion craft!” Several smaller craft, lightly armed, were descending from the main concentration of the human ships.

“Invasion? Are they slavers, then?” What kind of sadistic barbarians are these humans? Xenocidal murder was the galaxy norm. It’s what the Koxad tried with them and failed; every race met since was this struggle. Lzurg had never heard of a race enslaving another race. It was an alien concept completely. He thought, briefly, of his wife, a slave, working the endless fields of Harachi-7 until her brutal death.

“We’ll find out soon, Warmaster. The ships are heading here directly. No anti-ship defensives operational near the Capitol. We have some scattered units but none nearby. At best, the guards here have small arms.”

“Rally them.” It felt good to give commands; Lzurg almost felt alive again. “For the Homeworld!”

---

The human craft, all sharp angles and flat surfaces, landed engines screaming in the main park outside the council chambers. Several heavy interceptors were already flying combat patrols. Lzurg always admired the Human efficiency; if the Ysari Brood Empire had to fall, it was to a far superior foe. The Council Guard were set in their defensive positions, for whatever that would accomplish. It was mercy, he eventually decided: like the Warfleet, at least these guardsman would die in battle.

The troopship’s rear hatch opened, ready to disgorge human marines. Lzrug’s tentacle gripped his weapon. He was ready for almost anything.

Except for the site of Lizza unsteadily gliding down the ramp in full dress uniform. Behind her, several more Ysarians were disembarking; tepid, unsure movements as they gawked at their surroundings like tourists from the Rim instead of hardened soldiers. All the ships were emptying of his people. He looked up. There were more ships coming down, tens, hundreds, the sky burning bright like day with retrorockets.

His wife’s voice, amplified with near-magical Human technology, snapped his reverie. “Ysarians, I’ve been told by the humans that those ships are filled with more of our people, survivors from battles. The humans want… the humans want peace with us. As a gesture of goodwill, they are returning all our survivors.”

---

Their stories were all the same, with little variation. The only believable part was the ease the human fleets sliced through their defenses, like a torch through brindlevine. The rest was fairy tales to Lzurg. Ysarian survivors were gathered; the injured cared for by the humans at first and then Ysari medical survivors. “Survivors”, “prisoners of war”, “Geneva Conventions”, “ambassadors”: each term was more alien than the next to Lzurg. The battle of the Harachi system had only one goal: so the humans could feed their prisoners. Interrogations that resulted in confusion instead of corpses. There was a lot of gurgling about “beating plasma cannons into argi-tractors”, whatever that meant.

When he had a moment with his primewife, they merged together as one. “Do you believe this? Any of this?”

He felt her fear and terror but something else; he couldn’t quite grip it. “Not at first. I thought I was going to die on that ship. They knew our language – they learned to speak with us. I thought it was to learn our defenses. The noise they make when they laugh, I’ll never forget that; like a guggeldrakh roar.” She paused, her thoughts a tangle of tentacles and emotions. “What changed my mind was the doctors. They would have their Human doctors learning from ours. They… they were learning how to treat our injuries. To those that died… they learned the death-song to sing it with us. They stood and sang beside me over Arluga after she died.”

Lzrug didn’t know what to think.

She continued, the thoughts tumbling out now, “We were so scared when we found the ships on the Rim. It was like the Vreen all over again. We fought, we killed them all, and then they came for us. I told them, all of them, that we fought them because every race we encountered tried to kill us first. It’s how the galaxy grips: kill or be killed.”

“What did they say to that?”

Her response chilled him right to the core: “’Not in our galaxy.’”

"The fleet is in position, sir."

Admiral Matthew nodded, not moving his gaze away from the green-and-purple planet on the display. Even from high orbit, the enormous honeycomb cities of the V'raal were visible, gleaming in the light from the binary suns. The sight was both alien and beautiful.

"Hail them one more time," he said.

"Yes, sir," the communications officer said. "Hailing across all channels."

The planet on the display was replaced by a tall winged humanoid with grey skin who glared at Matthew with large compound eyes. The resemblance to Earth insects was, of course, coincidental; the instinctive revulsion could be overcome.

The alien's lips moved out of sync with a synthesized voice. "Humans. So you show your true colors at last."

"I'm Admiral Matthew aboard flagship Arthra," he said. "We come in peace."

"Your fleet encroaches upon our home," the alien hissed. "In my name as the High Queen, we will fight to the last!"

He sighed. "We do not seek to destroy you. We wish to trade. To exchange ideas. Haven't we had several decades of successful communication?"

The queen made a clicking noise that the computer failed to translate. "Such things inevitably end in the destruction of one of the species involved."

"You've been betrayed before," he said, nodding. "So have we."

"Then you understand what kind of place the universe is. We all clawed our way to the top of our food chains. We do not suffer rivals."

He spread his hands. "Even so, we would take the risk. We would be your friends."

"Friends? You say that even as your fleet draws closer!"

"We only came because you stopped responding to our signals," he pointed out. "Anyone would get concerned when their closest neighbors fall silent."

The queen's translucent wings fluttered, raising her off the floor. "You should have had the sense to stay away. We do not wish to communicate. We do not wish to trade. And if you don't leave, we will destroy you!"

The transmission cut off, and all at once, the bridge erupted into action.

"Orbital defense platforms are locking onto our vanguard."

"Missile launches detected from the surface—"

"Numerous combat craft launching from the second moon!"

Admiral Matthew sighed and slumped back in his chair. "So be it."

The battle was as brutal as it was short. The kinetic weaponry of the V'raal was impressive, but the human ships boasted laser armaments developed in collaboration with the Abetti, antimatter reactors bought from the Gerurians, and superalloy hulls invented on Earth. In less than a day, the planet's orbital defenses were reduced to a cloud of rubble. Still the aliens stubbornly refused to answer any attempts at radio contact.

"There's no choice," Matthew said. "I'll have to land and speak with this High Queen directly."

"Are you sure that's wise, sir?"

He shrugged. "We can't convince them of our intentions if I don't do this much. Prepare the landing shuttle."

In short order he sat strapped in alongside a squad of grim-faced marines. The shuttle shook as it broke into the planet's thick atmosphere. He turned to watch a screen on which the hive-city the first transmission had come from was steadily growing larger.

A siren blared, and the shuttle veered sharply, the straps cutting into his chest.

"They're firing at us!" the pilot exclaimed.

"Steady, lads!" Matthew yelled. "Arthra has orders to provide support."

A pink energy beam lanced down from the skies like a finger of god, and a mushroom of smoke erupted on the surface. Another beam followed. Matthew closed his eyes and sighed.

It was a bumpy ride, but they made it in one piece, setting down on a field before the smocking wreck that was the hive. Matthew pulled on a breathing mask. The marines' sergeant offered him a gun, but he waved it down.

"Stay behind me," he said. "Weapons hold unless I say otherwise."

The sergeant appeared dubious but snapped off a salute. The hatch opened with a hiss of air. Matthew tilted his head up at the scarred wall of the hive looming ahead and grimaced. If only the fools had listened.

He disembarked, his steps springy under the lower gravity. Movement by the hive's wall caught his attention. A V'raal lay trapped under debris, one wing broken and oozing silvery blood, chest laboring for breath. Waving back the marines, Matthew slowly approached and did a double take when he recognized the queen.

She flinched as his shadow loomed over her and shielded her face with an inhumanly slender hand. He stooped and heaved off the debris with a grunt. The queen froze and stared up at him with her prismatic eyes.

He extended his hand. "Let's be friends."

She considered his hand as if it were something poisonous, then let out a defeated hiss. Slowly, she raised her trembling hand to clasp his.

The Queens of Paragon stared in awe and... Utter confusion as their planet was covered in... Teddy bears, pillows, blankets, and other assorted softness. Flowers, some dead, dying, or barely alive were strewn all over their homeland. They were baffled by humanity's ammunition of choice.

"You mock us, humans?! We tell you we hate you, then you rain down... These cute little bears, these... What did you call them?" They looked at one another, then at the pillows, then the Corporal before them, as she stood, waiting.

"Pillows, maladies. We use them for a comforting sleep and to keep our heads on an even plane to level out our spinal columns. Plus, have you felt how SQUISHY they are?!" The Captian giggled as she held and squeezes her memory foam pillow.

"Yes... These... Pillows are quite... Nice." Queen Amidos and Queen Isthar looked at one another pensively.

They both sighed heavily, recalling their tendrils back into their body as they looked back at the Captain. "Fine... We will put aside our xenophobia, on the condition you CLEAN THIS MESS UP!" Queen Amidos roared, glaring at the Captain.

"You'll have to forgive my wife... She can be hostile when she doesn't get a good night's rest. What was your name again?" Queen Isthar turned back to the Captain, waiting patiently.

"Peggy Zeal. Because I'm very zealous when it comes to completing my missions and pegging them down!" She cackled at her pun.

"You humans give one another... Weird names and odd senses of humor... I'm going back to bed and I'm taking these with me!" Queen Amidos huffed again, using her tendrils to pick up a weighted blanket, a teddy bear that matched her in size, and a body pillow before storming back into the castle.

"Right... Well, hop to cleaning up, please. I'll go advise our citizens of the change of plans so they stop blowing your people out of the sky." With that, Queen Isthar also grabbed similar-sized items to her wife before storming off.

"You heard the queens! It's time to clean!" Captain Zeal spoke into her handheld radio.

"Understood, Captain Zeal." One of the subordinates said from the main ship in space.

"Booya! Mission accomplished!" Captain Zeal began to pick up what should could and formed it into a pile as her troops beamed down to the planet to help.

"Friendship is magic. The saying came from a... peculiar show, I must admit, but the words do embody our ethos well."

Ener, human envoy and diplomat, spoke to beings who were all around him. Floating mist, it is how Ener's mind made them appear to him. Other humans felt them like a gust of wind, or an ethereal set of interconnected neurons.

It's one of the reasons they laughed at us. We still fought with bullets and mean words on the internet, while they had discarded their flesh. Mind had overcome matter, thoughts shaped reality while we suffered it. They had no need for the internet, as their thoughts could be transmitted far and wide with a larger emotional depth than mere words could.

Had they invaded Earth, there's not a thing humans could have done to resist a nearly instantaneous extinction event.

"Obviously," Ener added, "my words may sound both crude and treacherous, considering the hungry payload our ships have in store in your orbit."

Ener was surrounded by an angry, murderous mist. The mist happened to be surrounded by ships containing horrors the mist knew to be far, far worse than the construct of flesh and bone before them.

"But let me assure you, our intentions are nothing but pacific."

Of course they were. Never had Ener been more honest than in this very moment.

When humanity was ignored, they still studied the few mysterious interactions they had with these beings. They learned what little they could. When another, lesser species felt an odd sense of kinship as they felt just as weak, Ener extended a hand to strengthen them both in a hostile universe. They shook appendage, and a friendship was born.

"Understand this," Ener's tongue passed over his lips, "friendship is what makes us strong."

Humanity communicated with their new friend, opened ambassies, invited them over, welcomed them with open arms, buried some of theirs on Earth. Then, they dug the bodies up and studied them. Each word, each gesture, it's effect in space, analysed and dissected. The best parts of society, copied and reused at home.

"Friendship is so much more efficient than warfare."

When the lesser species asked for some clear boundaries, humanity feigned shock and sadness. When they pushed for boundaries harder, humanity revealed it's true colors.

As driven befrienders.

What good day it had been, when Ener knocked at their door and told them that friendship was non-negociable. But as he was a strong believer in free will, he gave them a choice: be friends, or face total obliteration.

Today, nobody spoke of the lesser species. They were part of humanity, integrated, their history absorbed and digested.

"Hence why I insist how important it is for me that you understand my point."

That on the other hand, was utter bullshit. Ener only wanted them to comply, them understanding was irrelevant to his grand design.

In time and in discretion, humanity found a way to touch these beings, make them feel and see death the ways humans did.

"Friendship made us."

Indeed. Friendship had made them absorb the old, forgotten species. Friendship had made them copy their societal strong points, friendship had made them develop creatures made of violence, kill them, and contain their death cries in a frozen capsule, ready to be opened on case friendship was refused today.

Friendship had made humans erase their boundaries, kill dissent, forced Earth to smile forever like Ener did right now. Friendship had made good mood mandatory.

"Friendship is why we reached the stars instead of burning down on our planet."

Of course, older generations would say this is anything but friendship. But the generation nearly killed humanity with global warming and had been erased in turn, as such they couldn't be right because they weren't there to be right and nobody remembered them.

"I ask again. Will we be friends?"

A promise of an end, the fog knew. Worse than the unreal beasts in the capsules, there was the beast of humanity, always hungry, always smiling, a smile lined with sharp teeth, the bits of previous pray still clinging to it. The beast didn't linge at you. It awaited with open mouth for you to step inside to be devoured.

But if the fog didn't, humanity would make sure to do much, much worse than a single extinction event.

Slowly, the fog coalesced into a hand.

Ener shook it, ecstatic.

"You will see. Friendship is magic."

"Praetor Naxes! A human armada has just arrived in-system!" the Dralaxian technician cried.

The Praetor whirled on his subordinate. "What? How? They can't have deciphered the quantum encryption codes on our FTL suppression field!"

"I...I can't believe it, but it looks like they traveled to the nearest star system outside the field, and made their final approach at sublight speed." the technician said, with a mixture of awe and horror.

"That...even with ion drives...surely that would have taken them years!" the Praetor exclaimed.

The technician nodded. "Y-yes, Praetor. It seems they were willing to do it anyway." The technician's console suddenly beeped. "I'm receiving a transmission from the human flotilla, Praetor. Audio only."

"Translate and play back." he ordered.

The technician entered a series of commands into the console, and a droning alien voice filled the command center, along with a cacophony of uncanny instruments never before heard by Dralaxian ears:

You've got a friend in me,

You've got a friend in me!

You got troubles, I got 'em too,

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you.

We stick together and see it through,

Cause you've got a friend in me,

You've got a friend in me!

"By all the gods. Initiate full planetary alert." the Praetor rasped.

The twin suns of Dralaxar were blotted out by the innumerable landing craft from the human armada that filled its skies, as the Dralaxian military valiantly but vainly exhausted directed energy beams and explosive ordinance on the seemingly indestructible human vessels, and government broadcasts warned civilians to barricade themselves in their homes.

Above a quiet suburban street, deserted by the residents now cowering behind the scant protection of their locked doors and windows, one of the craft opened, and a score of massive figures in gleaming powered armor descended on the defenseless neighborhood.

One of them stalked towards a civilian home, their implacable alien eyes hidden behind a polymer visor. They balanced a metal disc covered in strange brown lumps on one gauntleted hand, and drew the other back in a fist as they reached the door of the home.

The alien brought their fist forward...and tapped on the door lightly, loud enough to be easily heard, but not hard enough to do any damage to the structure.

"Hey guys!" the alien said, in cheerful, remarkably fluent Dralaxian. "You wanna hang out? I brought cookies!"

All up and down the street, humans called out similar greetings to the suburb's terrified inhabitants.

"What's up fam, you wanna get a hang going, or what?"

"Hey what's good, Bro-Laxians? I brought some beers and the carcass of one your local birds drenched in buffalo sauce; you down?"

"Dudes, our scientists developed a new kind of edible that's safe for both of our species to consume while we watch cartoons together: let's do this!"

"Listen, I just want you to know I'm not like all those other humans. I know some species find interplanetary social situations difficult, and I respect your boundaries. So I'll just be here on your porch, whenever you're ready to come chill with me. Okay? Or you can call me on my power suit comms, if you want. I'll slip a note with the frequency under the door here, okay? If you could just, you know, knock on your side of the door so I know you heard me, then..."

Behind their closed doors, Dralaxian families huddled together, and they wept.

In a galaxy brimming with strife and rage, borders marked out across the stars as bubbles of civilization forming and popping without cause, one bubble seemed to consume its neighbors with no sign of stopping.

--

The admiral of the Kazark fleet waited at the border of their territory between the Orion Spur and the Perseus Transit. They didn’t call them this of course, to them it was simply ‘katakuanak’. They had waited here, for what felt to them as a full galactic rotation. Years of perfect silence with only reports of the home-worlds and the other boarders to entertain themselves. The Kazark were not the social type in this galaxy, it seemed nobody really was, at the end of the rotation you were either too insignificant for another race to care, or equally matched on all fronts. Technology had stagnated across the galaxy as every last element was perfectly understood and its limits pushed to the maximum potential.However, something was off, the Gῦlon hadn’t made any significant effort to enforce their boarders with the Kazark in a significant fraction of a rotation. Radio signals from deep within their territory seemed to be more alive than ever, though they were a whole fraction old as it was nearly a thousand light years to their core worlds.“Report” an ensign on the bridge shouted breaking the stale air. “Laser impulse from the high royal command!”

“Relay” The 1st Admiral announced, triggering a network wide communique to all vessel in this region of the boarder net.

“The royal collective has reason to believe the Gῦloncivilization has collapsed from the inside. Decrypting the signals caught leaving their core region has revealed a major internal threat to their civil structure resulting in total governmental collapse, cultural stratification, and new unrecognized data that we believe to have come from the overtaking powers. We will use this opportunity to push our boarders into their former territory. Send the reserve armada ahead to capitalize on their weakness and snuff them out before the new leadership can get things back in order. End of transmission”

The 16 admirals of the fleet were already stirring to heated discussion of the matter as the casual channels of the net sprang to life with rampant xenophobia, spur-of-the-moment propaganda, and patriotism for the core worlds no member of the Net had ever even visited.

The fleet set out with remote operated sensors scouting ahead. As they passed the first several solar systems of the Gῦlon owned space they were surprised to find little activity, as if everyone had packed up and left.

As the Net reached roughly 30% of the way into Gῦlon space, the reserve armada finally raised their speed. Blasting through the compressed wave of spacetime ahead of the Net at nearly a light year per minute. It wasn’t long before they reached the core worlds of the Gῦlon. The planets were enveloped in dense layers of ships, civilian, alien, and military alike, as if every single Gῦlon had been brought home for some major event. Then, the Kazark fleet was horrified to see their systems blare to life with unexplainable alien graffiti. Whats more, it wasn’t of the Gῦlon species, sure they were present in some parts of it, their unmistakable visage covered in some unknown flair similar to that of this new, bipedal alien menace. For all they had said against their solar rivals this fate that has befallen them seemed worse than anything the Kazark could have imagined nor wished on their enemies, subservience to some adornment addled species and forced to wear their trinkets like pets.

“Sir” the communications officer bridging on the head of the fleet ‘Klarnbor’ spoke up over the noise

“It appears to be basic radiowaves, the frequency happens to be resonant with our communications array”

“Just make it stop!” the commander screamed through the torturous noise.

Seconds later the prattle finally subsided, followed by an unknown vessel instantaneously landing itself in space dead center of the reserve fleet, facing the command vessel. A massive panel of basic electromagnetic lights jumbled around to show a stereotypical Kazark holding a foam glove over its appendages and poorly translated script next to it referring to ‘spaceship warranties’.

“Whatever that thing is Sir it must learn quickly…” a tactical officer blurted out dumbfounded

“This must be a trap…surely they expected us to make such a rash attempt on our enemies…” the captain trailed out with a lack of confidence in his theory. “Send an urgent pulse transmission to the Net, advise halting the advance until further information becomes available-”

“Report!” the ensign shouted, cutting off the captain “We just received a pulse from the Net stating that the Royal Collective has made contact with this new race called ‘hoonyams’, all weapons are to be powered down until further notice. They have also requested that we ‘dispense with pleasantries’ and convene all of our peoples with theirs and their ‘friends’.”

Every member aboard the bridge was now in utter confusion.“That’s impossible, how could they have made it within our territory, the net should have caught them?” the tactical officer demanded.

“Since when do we converse with xenos?” another asked.

Suddenly a new voice arose over the debate in the minds of every Kazark in the reserve fleet. “Greetings new friends! We are glad to see you’ve decided to join us here, come partake in the party and bury the hatchet with our mutual friends the Gῦlon!” The Commander doubled over on himself, severe pain tearing away his willpower. The voice, in its excited and joyous tone continued “OOH don’t look now but weve found another friend to add to the collection! You remember the Itzxatl right? The buggos to your galactic north? Their hivemind is joining the party too!”

“Impossible…they aren’t even capable of communicating with another species…how?” The communications officer said through pained breaths.

The voice responded “Oh that’s simple, we just sent them our‘good vibes’, like we are doing for you right now! Come to think of it, I don’t think Ive met a species yet that has refused to be our friends!”

“Look, if you stop your ‘vibes’ we will surrender to your demands” the captain spat with the voice of one pleading for their lives.

----

I wanted to go hard-syfy here but the execution fell apart. So instead the humans are winning via telepathy that causes their 'friends' to submit, leaning more into the 40k orcs with their ideas manifesting in ways that allow them to ignore the limits of science or friend-making.

Also reddit botched the formatting, sorry about that...

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