The Permutation

Homeostasis (Part 2) Blujh

Saturday, November 5th, 11:00 a.m.

Idiotic fucking humans.

These words played on repeat in Blujh's mind as he sat in the backseat of the cumbersome human vehicle headed to Ceph knows where. He thought about all the ways he could kill these lesser life forms, but these thoughts terminated before they could gain any traction. It may lift a load from his shoulders, but loathe as he was to admit it, these humans were necessary for his survival, his fate inextricably intertwined with theirs.

Blujh had been counting on the soft brain, Vyth's transponder to work and take them both off this blasted rock. When Blujh's superiors tapped him to head the mission to Earth, he had appreciated the trust the Miasma placed in him, but all this science bullshit soared over his head. His area of expertise had and always would be as a tool of destruction; The simplicity of following orders and completing the task before him had always been a source of comfort. Thinking is where Podans got themselves in trouble. Wearing the armor of "just following orders" absolved him of the responsibilities of his actions, but the Miasma had seen something more in him. The ability to go places no other Podan had gone before, with the aid of all the Soft Brain's fancy scientific theories and innovative technology.

Then the fucker had to go and get himself killed.

Blujh noticed the human called Michelle had now lost the dangerous edge she possessed in the heat of combat. Of the humans, he respected this one the most. She carried the strength and resilience of a true warrior. When she informed the group, they must sync up with the human authorities called "The Police," Blujh obliged without complaint.

Blujh did not have a knack for reading the gamut of human emotions and facial expressions, but if he had to guess, Michelle and he were two of the same mind. He maintained perfect control of his facial musculature, but inside, Blujh felt exhaustion, not just of this assignment, but at always being the last man standing.

Usually, Blujh would have been annoyed at their archaic mode of transportation. It was purely ground-based and was reliant on an inefficient petroleum-based fuel, but Blujh was captivated by the majesty of the scenery passing by. The high-speeds he was accustomed to did not allow one to slow down and appreciate the world around them, not that there was much to see anymore.

Firm up, man. You're starting to sound like a Soft Brain.

Blujh pondered what a human security organization would be like, but he was confident that no group of these primitive lifeforms could contain him for any length of time. If anything, they would probably worship Blujh as some kind of deific figure, a conquering hero that saved their universe from almost certain destruction. While this particular group of humans had been instrumental in saving the day, they surely could not have persevered without the strong hand of Blujh. It was a pity that Vergil had been lost; he was an exception among the other humans. Beneath the man's pathetic exterior, he had shown a determination and ingenuity even to get the better of Vyth and Blujh, beings that were the man's vast superiors.

On the other hand, maybe Blujh had been lucky that Vergil had perished. The man would surely have tried to paint Blujh as one of the villains of the day. The remainder of the humans did not know the extent of Blujh's involvement in the events that had transpired this night, and any evidence of Vyth's technology had been left behind in the wreckage. As far as any human organizations would be concerned, Blujh was another dogged survivor of the evening. Blujh lamented the loss of his Oscillator, the weapon had been assigned to him in the early days of the Miasma, but it would not have been of use even if he had kept it. That last confrontation had fully drained it of its lithium stores.

The car ride to The Police passed by in relative silence. From his interactions with Vergil, Blujh would have thought humans were a loquacious lot. The man had been an endless litany of banalities with very little substance. This group proved to be the exact opposite. Not one of them felt the need to express every little feeling. In fact, the collective emotion in the car ride felt akin to the pall that descended over his crew after they had to get their hands dirty.