Life was tough on Sirius IV. When humanity first sent its colony ships to the stars, much hope was placed in Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. Sadly for the Sirius expedition, out of all the worlds in the system, only one happened to be colonizable: a barren rock with a thinner atmosphere than Earth. Without enough fuel to turn back, the colonists decided to make do with what they had, and quickly set up a farming operation with a few domes converted into greenhouses. At least there was plenty of sunlight.
As the years slowly dragged on, the world grew into one of the most boring planets in the Federation, then the Kingdom, then the Empire. Native Sirians were told at gunpoint to hoist the new flag of whatever power currently controlled human space, although few rulers were able to stand the planet long enough before leaving a governor in their place. While a few stories trickled in of various dark ages and wars going on, Sirius IV was so far removed from human politics that its main exports had always been grain and livestock. Not one Sirian farmer even knew where his products were being shipped to, although the money came in just fine.
That all changed one day, when the first of many transport craft landed on Sirius IV. It wasn't another regime change; the symbols painted onto the hulls weren't any different from those on the last warships that came around. The troops proclaimed themselves to be from the Empire, and without much fanfare they began construction on their new base. Enormous fusion reactors stretched into the pale blue sky, powering the defense turrets and armories that warped in. Telenode pads bought in impossibly large numbers of green-suited clones, all of which were required to be fed. They couldn't have picked a better planet, but why did the Empire need Sirius IV so badly?
They got their explanations the hard way.
Less than a week after the Empire troops arrived, something new appeared in the sky, floating around ominously. It looked large and fleshy, with numerous egg-like pods jutting out of its body. Even from the domes down below, the giant egg-pods seemed to quiver ever so slightly, as if being filled up with something from inside the flesh-ship. The Sirians were told to retreat to underground shelters, with the last few above ground witnessing the anti-aircraft turrets blazing away at numerous pods approaching the surface. It was an alien invasion.
- - - - - - -
Five years of war had turned Sirius IV into a wasteland. The farmlands were devastated, and most of the biomass on the surface had been consumed by the aliens. The few forests that had taken root on the world had all been burnt to deny sustenance to the aliens, blackening the thin skies with smoke that never went away. Although the flesh-ship had been taken down, the tricky creatures were nearly impossible to eradicate. The small ones were the worst, as their tiny brown bodies blended in well with the dreary landscape. They were called dretches, and a single bite sent a whole limb into gangrene without treatment. Luckily, they were about as tough as they looked and fell easily to gunfire.
At times, shelters ran low on supplies, and whatever couldn't be warped in had to be scavenged from the ruins on the surface. The civilians were left to fend for themselves, as the Empire soldiers were hesitant to send any of their men after losing power to their telenodes. They only came in case of big threats, like packs of rampaging tyrants. All other eventualities went through the civilian militia, which coordinated scavenging missions.
It was on such a mission that something very strange was encountered in the ruins. A young scout had found something in an old cardboard box, something he couldn't bring himself to kill. Not even five years of alien hell could bring him to do something so heartless.
- - - - - - -
"Aww, isn't it cute?"
An inexperienced young recruit, Dave could not comprehend the significance of the thing he was holding in his outstretched hands for his bunkmate to see. It looked like a green sack of fat with a little tusked head jutting out, shielded by two overgrown arms. The thing jiggled while he passed it over, causing the creature to gurgle incomprehensibly. It didn't look too happy, but it didn't seem to be doing anything about its situation.
"I think you're going to get into trouble for that, Dave. That thing's an alien."
"Well, it's not hurting us. Haven't all the aliens so far attacked us on sight?"
"It's probably their builder form. Granger, I think." So that's what they called it. A granger.
"Builder, huh. I wonder what it'll make?"
Dave took his granger back, gently petting at its little head. Each of its six beady black eyes stared right up at him, their unblinking gaze coming off as adorable, one of the sweetest things he had ever seen. He couldn't see himself reflected in their murky depths, but he was sure that the granger loved him just the same. This was his granger, his pet, and nobody would ever take the green critter away from him. Not having noticed his bunkmate leave, he got on the floor with his new pet, rolling it around gleefully. It echoed his playful laughter with the same odd gurgling sounds. Grangers especially seemed to enjoy being tickled, right on their soft green underbelly.
When Dave awoke the next day, his bunkmate was still nowhere to be seen, and neither was his new granger. He called out for it, and nearly searched his entire room before deciding to look under his bed.
"Oh, there you are!" he called out to the spiked box under his bed, where his new friend's head poked out of a little fleshy hole. He never remembered seeing such a thing down here, and chalked it up to his new friend's construction role. He tried to drag the granger out of its new home, and would've succeeded if it wasn't for a knock at the door.
"Open up," commanded a harsh mechanical voice.
When Dave responded, he was faced by an Empire soldier in a battlesuit, staring down at him with the eerie red glow from the eye on the headpiece. His bunkmate stood right behind him, finding it hard to maintain eye contact with Dave.
"You've been reported to be in the possession of an alien. Surrender it immediately." When it became clear that Dave would not budge, the soldier knocked him aside with the barrel of his chaingun arm, slamming him right into a wall. As he proceeded into the dank room, Dave's bunkmate ran right to his side, having noticed his nose was bleeding profusely.
"Oh god, Dave.. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to rat you out like this.."
"Save.. granger.."
The soldier tossed aside furniture as if it weighed nothing, aided by the strength enhancement provided by his suit. It didn't even matter if things were bolted to the floor; the bunkbed was torn up and crushed into scrap metal by the soldier's powerful metal hands. The granger seemed to notice something was wrong, and by this point had retreated into its home, gurgling loudly for help as the soldier stomped repeatedly on the roof. Its spiked fleshy exterior was no match for the sheer weight of the suit, and before it buckled under its weight the granger emerged onto the hard tiled floor, oozing pale green blood.
It gazed at Dave one last time, as if to say goodbye to his impromptu friend.
A quick stomp of the soldier's mechanical foot made contact with the granger's head, splattering the walls of the room with a dark green ichor and the floor with an abstract scattering of arteries and veins and four of the six beady eyes. He withdrew his foot, stepped back, and immediately began to fire his chaingun and the fat green body segment for nearly a whole minute. It shook violently right away, jumping about as it took the force of each bullet at such close range. Out of every new hole violently sprayed out even more green blood, then organs, then the fat that made grangers so adorable. Fat sprayed out for the remainder of the minute, until the shell collapsed and cracked and became nothing more than green dust. War was hell. The soldier made sure the granger went to hell. He stomped it repeatedly, even when there was nothing left to stomp. There was a small crater in the floor now.
It would never match the bottomless pit left in Dave's heart.
