ᴅᴏᴢ'ᴠᴇʟ, ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴛʜᴇᴜʙɪᴀɴꜱ

The soothing pithhhh of the helmet's airlock being re-sealed comforts Doz'Vel, his scarred and fleshy face's fear remedied by the safety behind the green and orange tinted visor. He lets the liquid run down the glass, the droplets reminding him of the storms back home on Kezevel. Alone, there. Alone, save for the rain. The slow pitter-patter, perhaps of the life-giving water, perhaps of the lively mammalia, perhaps of a Ptheth in pursuit. Swift, smart, merciless.

Satisfied by his memories, Vel wipes the rest of the blood from his thorax armor, flicking it with flexible tentacles back to the ground, where the body of a humanic being lies, it's lungs flopping around on the cold steel floor, somehow still sentient. A barb suddenly extends from Vel's hand, lacerating the organ, puncturing a hole that spurts with inferior fluid, oozing with the clotted membranes of this barbaric animal's gore. Research and study of such creatures would hardly be worth the effort.

His prehensile tail, made of the same biomorphic sludge as the rest of his tentacled body, shivers with the sensation of moving air, directly behind Vel, approximately forty feet down one of the ship's many corridors.

The barb extends those forty feet in a single moment, staking a feeble head to the far wall, the eyeball twitching as it squirts with a small amount of red juice. Just as quickly as it was shot, the barb is returned to it's place under the customary robes of a Ptheubian High Priest, the markings on it defining Vel's role as a telepathically attuned Priest, one of very few in his species to be gifted such power through their breeding. Alas, it was the same selective-trait breeding that resulted in their extinction; seemingly, their utter superiority frightened lesser species, spurring empire-strong hunts for Ptheubian matter that would last for centuries, if not entire eras. Conventional ballistic methodology was, of course, to no avail, what with the absorption a gelatinous exoskeleton provided. However, the invention of radioactive weaponry by a remarkably primitive species known as Humans came as a surprise to Vel and his people, as he recalled from the 19th Text of J'Lui'Nil; a massive "nuclear" warhead had been dropped onto Kezevel, wiping all but those already out in the universe from time itself.

Well.

That was an impressive amount of thought Vel had dedicated to these humans.

Good to know that they were finally gone for good.

Vel departed through a window into the blackness of space, preparing his body for a warp. Looking back at the crumbled bits and pieces of Earth, the ruin floating about like scraps of paper in a shredding machine, Vel wondered how beings intelligent enough to create a world-destroying weapon would have multiple copies on their homeworld.

His mind settled, he began thinking about the resurrection of his species. Simply a matter of biomatter-sharing, after all. How crude that they would have to share genetic material.

The pulse shimmering away into the night was the most beautiful sight, in the eyes of the last human woman, as she bled out, staring through the pane of glass separating her from life. How beautiful, indeed.