What’s Underneath a Human’s Helmet: A New Era in Human Combat (Patreon)

They say that going up against a human in combat is blatant suicide. They say that even in a seemingly even playing field, with nothing present but two bodies (albeit one behind steel, composites, and glass), that there was nothing you could hope to do to even lay a scratch on a human before you were subdued.

But I couldn’t bring myself to believe this.

Not when everything pointed to the contrary…

And yes, whilst I did concede the realms of the sciences, industry, technology, and space to the humans, I just couldn’t concede the realm of true, genuine, man-on-man combat to be anything but ours.

Us Deluvians were built for combat. We had fought tooth and nail to get to where we are through the inhospitable mess that was Delusia. Everything wanted to kill us there, all manner of flora and fauana, all manner of environmental catastrophes, even all manner of alien intervention if our historical records retraced by the humans were to be believed. We were prized as thralls, combat slaves, blood arena gladiators, and bodyguards for those that wanted a talking beast at the other end of the leash. All of this and more was our history, our identity, that was, before the humans arrived.

The humans freed us from our shackles, destroyed the institutions and empires that held our collars taut within the span of a few days and rebuilt the galaxy from the ground up for centuries after that.

They’d helped us to rediscover ourselves, to foster a new era of peace, prosperity, reason, and culture.

But we still coudln’t shake off that burning desire, that instinctive need to hit something. Even if it was no longer necessary, even if the humans had basically pruned and tended to the verdant forest that was this galaxy into a well groomed garden.

I didn’t hold any ill will to the humans, not at all. In fact, I held a deep amount of respect for them given all that they’ve done for us. In fact, I even struck up an unusual friendship with one of the human’s guardians as they called them. A small, elite group of humans that still preferred to hone and study the art of war, rather than the art of diplomacy, statecraft, arts, and science that most of the other humans seemed to be obsessed with.

The Guardians were a decidedly different breed of humans. Cocky, bombastic, audacious, and incredibly headstrong. Most of all however, they were the most… personable out of all the humans. They seemed to lack, or rather, maintain a far lesser air of ethereal decorum that the others always seemed to carry around with them.

And whilst yes, they still wore their helmets with pride, and yes, they even wore armor, or pieces of it on their bodysuits practically constantly, they still seemed far more organic than even the ones that wore nothing but bog standard clothes.

I also find it somewhat amusing that the Guardians seemed to have chosen monikers of war and aggression as their own names. Perhaps it was human tradition? Perhaps it was just coincidence with the batch I’ve met? I don’t know, and I never really was one to pry. Though one of the most egregious examples of this was I was quickly starting to refer to as my human ‘best’ friend (though that term was one that I used loosely, as even the most amicable of humans seemed distant and just… removed from the rest of us mere mortals).

Archer, that’s what his name was. A fitting title since he claims that not once in his 14,000 years of existence and 10,000 years of active service did he once resort to hand-to-hand combat. Close quarters, yes, but never hand to hand.

Never once has it ever come to that, and I’m actually quite disappointed. He would boast.

But I’ve never actually once witnessed how this could be the case. For he claimed that even unarmed he never resorted to hand-to-hand combat. But even then he said that came with caveats as to what one meant be unarmed.

Regardless, today was the day we’d settle that mystery. We’d agreed to meet in an open playing field, away from technology, away from civilization, away from prying eyes especially. It would be rather scandalous to see a Guardian facing off one of their charges.

The spot we chose was a relatively untainted spot on my homeworld, it was a somewhat dusty savannah, with little in the way of trees or cover which allowed for the sun to bear down on us with incredible intensity. Beyond this, there wasn’t much in the way of improvised weaponry too, no sticks, no small rocks, nothing.

I had insisted on true combat in the tradition of my people, which meant a distinct lack of clothes aside from a simple loincloth.

Archer flat out refused. Something he rarely did, given how he was one for entertaining my rather fanciful and far fetched ideas.

It was once again, one of those human things. So I acquiesced. We decided to meet half way and simply allowed me to wear my own suit of power armor to even the match, he agreed, even offering to allow me the chance of using any weapon of my choice, to which I openly disagreed with.

This was supposed to be a simple match, to see just how this Guardian has shied away from hand-to-hand for 10,000 years.

And so it was. At high-noon on the 10th month of the 527th year of our new calender, we met in the middle of a wasteland, flanked on many sides by rocks and pieces of simple geological outcroppings.

The human was dressed as he always was. Pieces of stark white armor, painted with patterns of a rich blue hue, accenting the white, and even forming the human emblem in the middle of his chest piece. Gauntlets, vambraces, and the like were present as well, all in that extremely angular, geometrically sleek design choice that had come to define much of human aesthetics. His helmet, was likewise styled in this fashion. A boxy form that contained a mouthpiece similar to a rebreather, with two distinct lenses that acted as his eyes, with those glowing, simplified expressions seated within.

Underneath all of that was a skin-tight undersuit of sorts. What most had hypothesized was an encounter or an environmental suit which shielded whatever it was that lay underneath from the world around them. Whatever it was, it was mostly concealed underneath armor, and whatever the case may be, a further wager was drawn up as I stared him down at the last second.

“Archer!”

“Yes, friend?”

“An added wager to sweeten the fight: if I win, I see what’s underneath the helmet. If I lose, well, you can ask me to do whatever you wish, no strings attached.” I offered, to which the human’s ‘eyes’ seemed to narrow and flatten.

“Are you certain of that, friend?”

“Positive!”

“Well then let’s say the wager is settled. Tell me when and we’ll start this little scuffle.” The human spoke enthusiastically through that vocoder.

I responded with a short snort from my nose as I readied myself, crouching into position.

To say that this match would’ve looked ridiculous to an outsider would be an understatement. Imagine if you will, a 12-foot tall reptilian from head-to-tail, biceps 3 times the size of a human helmet, and with claws sharp enough to cut through any non-human metal or composite. All of this, facing down a human barely 5 foot 7, his form, even with it obscured by armor, was far more lithe and slim than muscular.

It was time to really test his mettle as I let out a final breath before I yelled out.

“BEGIN!”

Almost immediately I leaped out at the human, to which his swift feet had miraculously saved him, the human darting this way and that, somehow ending up behind me, arms by his side, crouching, and looking ready to fight on.

I lunged at him again, and this time, he shifted once more, bouncing from rock outcropping to rock outcropping like some sort of a grasshopper or locust, fighting less like a warrior and evading more like some sort of a would-be assassin.

Was this what fighting a Guardian was like? I had begun to lose my faith in humanity as we stared face-on once more, the human’s gloved hands now seemingly caked in dust, dirt, and debris, he’d even somehow lost his vambraces and armor chest-piece in the process, leaving only what was seemingly a large backpack still attached to his back, whirring away, perhaps an environmental scrubber powering his undersuit.

It was clear now how scrawny he truly was underneath it all, how lanky and dainty a human truly looked underneath.

Sure, it was great for ceremony or for the diplomatic corps, the look screamed elegant and beautiful. But it didn’t exactly evoke any strong feelings of intimdatinon as I stared his ‘eyes’ down.

“Hah! So when are we actually going to be fighting human? Come on then? Show me what you got!” I boasted, clapping both of my hands together as I got inot another stance.

“Alright, let’s get serious then. Charge at me, this time, I promise I won’t budge.” Archer responded in kind, I could practically hear a snear through the vocoder as his eyes took on a more devious expression.

I roared out in kind, as I once more charged straight at him, this time, leaping up into the air at the last second, intent on landing right atop of the human-

Before everything stopped.

Just about a foot from the human’s face, I found myself halted in mid air my arms, my torso, feeling as if they were being pinched on all sides by tiny, invisible strings, that held my limbs taut. “What-” was all I was able to manage out before I was yanked from my fall and back into the ground a good 10 feet away from the human.

Archer simply stood by, watching, arms crossed as his eyes seemed to be processing my every move now.

I growled deeply, not fully grasping the situation as I rushed at him again, only to now find my face planted firmly in the dirt just a foot away from the human’s feet, as Archer looked down at me with an expression of smug self satisfaction. “You, give?”

“Never!” I roared as I suddenly felt my limbs freed again, reaching forward to reach the human’s helmet in one solid punch, only to have my hand slammed against what felt like a solid metal wall, the human remaining entirely untouched all throughout.

“I thought we said no fucking shields!” I roared back, as the human simply sighed and grabbed a patch of dirt, allowing it to fall on his other arm, demonstrating that there was in fact, no flicker of a shield present.

“No shield here, friend.” He once more gleefully announced through that vocoder.

And so it went.

For hours I tried every possible maneuver as the human stood perfectly still in his little position, at one time even sitting down cross legged as it was clear he’d grown tired of standing.

My body at that point had become so bruised, so battered from all the different attempts at subduing him… from kicking, to punching, to slicing and clawing, that it just gave in, exhaustion taking me as I lay limp on the ground, unmoving save for my ragged breaths.

The human at that point had walked over to me, standing above me once more as he spoke that one, titular line that filled me with shame and embarrassment. “You give in, yet?”

I only responded with a solid sigh, allowing myself to finally rest as I nodded. “I concede… I concede…” I managed out before the human’s eyes shifted to a more jovial expression, raising his hand as something seemed to formed within it.

It looked as if small droplets of rain had suddenly accumulated around it, forming, pooling, until finally a solid, shiny, chrome-like ball formed in the palm of his hand. One that was the size of a good throw-ball.

“What-”

“Yeah, so, even without weapons, even without any shields, with nothing but my armor on me, I can still make it work. All Guardians have something called a minifactory on them at all times, you might’ve noticed me jumping here and there during the opening stages of the fight? That was me trying to sample the local rocks for the appropriate building blocks necessary to build up more of the swarm. But, since most of the rock here’s just silica and not metal, I decided to sacrifice my armor plating for use as their substrate instead.”

My mind wracked through this explanation. “Wait, swarm? That orb? Is that like-”

“It’s a nanite swarm, yes. Quite useful, honestly. And strictly speaking, it’s not a weapon I brought into combat with me. Listen, you wanted to know just how I’ve never been caught in a physical scuffle for the past 10,000 years? Well here you go, raw and undistilled. So even if I’m caught without weapons or support, this is generally how I approached CQC. And trust me, it gets much messier when my orders are to use deadly force, and not just to simply subdue or restrain.” The human spoke solemnly through his vocoder. “Anyways! Enough of that talk!” He offered me a hand, which I promptly accepted and got back to my shaky feet. “You honestly got really close! Like, seriously! So, congratulations, and great job on that!” The man spoke enthusiastically.

“But still, I think a rematch or something is in order.” I spoke as the human’s strange orb began shifting once more, at this point seemingly ‘melting’ onto him as it reformed pieces of his chestplate and vambraces. “I honestly can’t imagine you doing well against me without any of your toys.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Archer responded as he grabbed something from his back that had otherwise been left unattended throughout this entire encounter, rummaging through it.

“You know… actual one on one, man on man, no technology, not anything between us. Just, skin on skin, muscle on muscle. You know, traditional combat.”

“Oh. Well yeah we talked about that didn’t we? This is as traditional as it gets for a human, friend.” He spoke candidly as he brought what I assumed to be a medical scanner up, and began scanning me up and down.

“But you’re still wearing your armor. And even during combat without your armor, you still had your suit and gizmos on. How is that traditional, how is that-”

“Because, friend, we don’t… hah. It’s just, this is as far as we go when we dress down as you say. It doesn’t get more real than this, and even then you’d be hard-pressed to find any human who would do so.”

“So are you saying that even amongst your kind, this is what you consider to be traditional now?”

“Erm, yes. This technology as you call it is as second nature to us, as our breathing. Going deeper is just… uncomfortable to us? I know this must seem very alien to you, but trust me, after eons of development, this is just how things are.”

“So are you saying, in all seriousness, you have that on at all times?”

“Erm. More or less yeah. It’s literally like, part of us now if that makes any sense? Like part of who we are, and all that?” The human continued as he began applying salves, bandages, and an assortment of miracle cures that took their effects almost immediately.

“So do you actually constantly wear that all the time or-”

“Hey! I won the combat right? That means I get to ask you to do anything? Right, yeah, so, let’s just put a dampner on these questions and say, no more questions for the day!” The human shot back, as he packed his backpack and gestured for us to leave, a shuttle quickly landing on cue just a few hundred yards away from us.

But as we walked, I continued staring at him, thinking, pondering all the thoughts that were still rattling around in my head, as the human simply stopped just before the shuttle and glanced back at me.

“Yes alright? Yes. Does that answer your question? Now let’s just get outta here. I want to find something nice for you to eat.”

And with that, we left, carried aloft to space towards the human’s grand palatial fortress in the heavens.