A new combat instructor was assigned to my battalion. If I remember the instructor is that of the human race. They were formerly introduced to us and to be honest I was not impressed. The human was only two-thirds my size and look squishy as a havenworlder, hard to believe that they’re from a deathworld. I was given the chance to spar with the human, I couldn’t even touch them. -- Anon Guest
Many hear a word like "Deathworlder" and instantly conjure the mental picture of an armour-plated being many times their own size. Nobody could have pictured the Human combat master who came to Velidus V. They were small, slight, and seemingly fragile. Their hair was cropped close to their scalp like many a Spacer did. Their clothing was simple and without embellishment.
"This is our fearsome Deathworld instructor?" I scoffed. "They look like a child in their pyjamas." I laughed, and so did the rest of my battalion. We had little to fear from this small figure. We were in our combat-rated livesuits, though our helmets were open. We had nothing to fear from an un-armoured and squishy-looking balding ape.
The combat instructor smiled in a way that should have been a warning. They waited until the laughter died down and said, "There's always one." Then they singled me out. Of course they did. This was Drill Sergeant 101. Make an example of the first wise-ass to give some lip. "Well come on, mountain-tall. You think you can take me in a fair fight?"