Happy Surrender Day

They weren’t much to look at—like big slugs with a dozen spindly legs—and they usually elicited a gag reflex if they were looked at at all. But the Krell had chemistry on their side. They, too, came from an ocean world, but theirs was of a thicker, more gel-like quality; this, due to its concentrations of phosphorus, sodium, calcium, and the electrochemical constructs if their combinations. These otherwise revolting bottom feeders could reach out into the soupy ocean with appendages made of lightning with such precision and delicacy that it must be described as beautiful.

With this gift, the Krell dominated their home, and grew strong, and emerged from the briny darkness to see the stars above.

This is the backdrop of the Occupation, the part we take care not to discuss. To discuss it is to make them relatable, to humanize them with emotions and motivations that are dangerously understandable. And that would make their extinction feel somehow wrong.

We leaned how to destroy planets by practicing on Earth, but we turned practice into perfection against the Krell. Nothing lives in their oceans today. Nothing is born, nothing moves, and nothing looks up at the stars. There are no statues, no memorials, no painful reminders.

I only bring it up in the context of the Shun, on today, the anniversary of their surrender. History will outlast this new occupation, of which we are on the other side. Perhaps they might not build memorials to us, either.

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