[ WP ] Humanity is the only race in the galaxy with such a massive lack of common sense that we 're the only species that requires laws to form societies . Other races just form naturally and are shocked when confronted with humanities laws and regulations .

The door irised open, and in scrambled one of the small ones, about a foot and a half of sinew, pursued by a hobnailed boot big enough to serve as the creature's coffin. 
 
 `` Git in, Lemmin!'' 
 
 `` Lemmin'' squealed in terror and dashed around the room, rolling under the chairs and tables, touching walls, sniffing the floor with great haste and motivation. 
 
 Leftie Nageth trod into the room, then Rightie Todd, both having been introduced by the messengers beforehand. Directly after they had strode into the room, Boss Kote stepped under the short door, looking badly annoyed at the inconvenience. 
 
 Every Human and Tyrillen in the room fought own the instinctive urge to panic and run away at this monstrous form. The door was 8 feet from floor to doorjam and Boss Kote stood a head taller slouching. 
 
 `` Orite Gits! Lissen up. I learned yor tongue on the road, so we ken have us some...'' 
 
 `` Negoshashuns, Boss Kote,'' Righty offered helpfully. 
 
 `` Riiight. Negoshashuns.'' 
 
 Several hands went instinctively to earbuds, which lit up with a series of chirps. 
 
 `` Them da transators?'' 
 
 *Are those the translators? * Everyone with a lit up earpeice hears. 
 
 Adminral Jenning nods, his own earpeice dark. 
 
 `` So yous the boss, Aderal Jens?'' 
 
 `` I am the Admiral, yes. Your people prefer speaking with titles, so that mode of address will do fine.'' 
 
 Lefty sniggered. Lemmin hissed. 
 
 `` I call you wat I wants, Jens hooman. Yoo listen,'' Boss Kote growled, overpronouncing the T, `` I been heerin bout yoo hoomans. I been heerin that the shiny bits on ya make ya tha boss.'' 
 
 Jennings waits, silently. 
 
 `` The Aderal part of Aderal Jens is in ya cloTHes and ya hat.'' Again overpronouncing the TH. `` And widdout em, you just Jens. That right?'' 
 
 `` I wear my rank, yes.'' 
 
 Boss Kote nods. 
 
 `` An yyyou!'' He turns his massive torso, beady shark-eyes and wide nostrils towards Prelect Urswain-tal-Yessed. `` You just da boss cuz they all kanoes you the boss, dat right?'' 
 
 *You are recognized without rank adornment, is this correct? * Urswain hears translated into his own ear. 
 
 `` We are able to recognize one another's acheivement and place in society on pheremonal signature alone. I understand this is not the way of the Tok people.'' 
 
 `` Thas right. ThaTs noT how we kanoes each uddah. Da's not how you all is gon na kanoe us Toks neither.'' 
 
 ***************** 
 
 Jennings looked up to watch the meeting. Boss Kote was bigger than before, uglier to the once-admiral. The other warboss, Boss Rothy, did n't even bother to start talking. Up swept a sophisticated rifle, likely Tyrillen slave-make. Boss Kote laughed and charged, arcs of lighting leaping out like a plasma ball enclosure in open space to intercept the smart-munitions pouring from the firearm. The fight was over very quickly. Kote, as usual, did n't bother using any weapon more sophisticated than his teeth. 
 
 `` Listen up, Tree-Fuckers!'' Jennings heard the words through the translator that Kote had melted into the ruin of his left ear. The right ear heard the brutal and gutteral language of the Tok, which was starting to form a sort of sense even without the translator. One ear, three fingers and a permanent ache in his back, and he had the start of a language skill to show for it. 
 
 `` Your Boss was a human's asshole! I'm your boss now! My boys are your bosses now! You're at the bottom of the pack until you work your way up and me or my boys says you can sit around our fire! Kick your own grots around, figure out your own rotting pecking order now that nobody is cleaning his nostrils'' a point down to the wreckage of Boss Rothy `` and do n't bother me about it!'' 
 
 A moment of clarity struck Jennings. He knew that the plasma field around Boss Kote was likely low on energy, he knew the charging cycle from watching it recalibrate as it absorbed entropy from the air around it. He saw the ammo indicator on the rifle, not twenty feet away, showing only half-empty. 
 
 Jennings walked forward slowly. Quick movement provoked agression and derision, if it were clumsy. He suddenly leapt and rolled forward, old soldier's habits bringing the rifle to bear even with the ruins of his left hand. 
 
 `` Boss Kote!'' He screamed, but the monster was already turning to face him. 
 
 `` I take your tribe, Tree-Fucker!'' Jennings pulled the trigger from less than three yards away. The weapon auto-compensated to flechette burst mode, spraying the towering monster with thousands of self-destruting metal frisbees, melting his behemoth skull away like water on mud before the defensive plasma array could even deploy. Jennings immediately stooped and looted a fresh ammunition can from the squelching mess under his ruined right boot, popped it into the charging array before the ejected empty hit the ground, and repeated the procedure with Righty Nageth ( recently promoted after murdering Todd in an argument over fifteen kilos of looted pork bacon ) as he rushed out of the crowd to repeat Jenning's coup. 
 
 It took two more quick fatalities and another recharge of the weapon before the crowd stopped rushing him. 
 
 `` Get back to your fires before I start shooting whatever shithead looks at me funny!'' 
 
 The crowd began to disperse. Jennings quickly releieved the nearby corpses of their more exotic technology, then headed immediately to Boss Kote's tent. 
 
 It took two more murders to clear out the Toks trying to look his new home. 
 
 `` Lemmin!'' He bellowed, hoarsely. Lemmin scurried into the tent immediately. 
 
 `` Go get me some grub. Something I can eat that tastes good. Do n't fuck it up or I'll rape you.'' 
 
 Lemmin's eyes bulged in terror and he screeched from the tent. 
 
 Jennings, the old admiral, sad down on the portable throne so recently vacated by Boss Kote. He reached over to the power generation staging unit that Kote had brought to power his tent lights and sensory gear, plugging it into an infected-looking socket under the melted morass of flesh on the left side of his head. He immediately felt the machines come back to life, after four years of starvation and degradation, and found himself grinning evilly as his insides started the telltale itch of nanomachine rejuvenation. He mentally ordered them to begin expanding his physique as fast as they could take in the matter needed to do so. It would n't do for Boss Jenning to stay small and skinny. 
 
 It was time to introduce this Mongoloid horde to the concept of discipline. It was time to make some rules.
