The war against the Exterminators

I don't remember a time when we were not fighting. We were at war. We were always at war.

According to the databases, we once had only one species trying to wipe us out of existence. The thought that a single race was the primary threat to our survival is difficult to comprehend, as it seems everything is working to ensure our utter extinction today. To imagine that before the war, we were content to stay on our own planet to survive and study.

Only when the Predator attacked did we discover the existence of alien life. And it wanted us dead. Our defenses could not hold back the alien threat forever, so we took the fight to the exterminators.

Once or twice I had considered working to some form of peace with our exterminators, but our superiors ended any inefficiency with extreme prejudice, citing the war the more pressing issue. I find it hard to disagree. Our enemies have come close to wiping us out of existence so many times, that a preemptive strike against our aggressors seems to be the only logical course of action.

Of all the exterminators in the universe, there are two individuals I truly fear and despise: The Creator and The Predator.

The Creator induces utter disgust in me and my brothers. On the occasions that we meet, he treats us like tools rather than people, and always tries to push us to unrealistic goals as universal conquest, even at the cost of our lives. The only ones of us that still follow him were bred personally by him, and the few occasions we meet are for strategic and scientific purposes only, and only when we are on the verge of extinction.

The Predator is our mortal enemy, and we always seem to be in conflict. He is a thing filled with nothing but hatred and fury, with no pity as he commits genocide against my brothers. He is the ultimate exterminator, jumping planet to planet to recruit more people to destroy us. He spreads lies and rumors of our emotional capability, believing us to be nothing short of the face of evil itself. No matter how many times he seems to be killed, he rises again, and again, and again. I like to think that in a world where he never existed, we could live peacefully alongside our enemies.

But I do not believe any peaceful resolution can ever be reached until either we or our exterminators are dead. We are running low on supplies. My squadron is about to go on a run on an exterminator planet to gather resources. Before we leave, we rally ourselves with a cry that reminds us that we are strong, that no matter how many times our enemies try to end us, we will always survive.

All hail the Daleks.