"For centuries... Humans looked up at the stars and dreamed of walking amongst them. In the 1960s, humans took their first steps to achieving their goals. However, in the year 2100, my parents were amongst several key figures heading out speak to ambassadors of a race calling themselves the Tro-Dori... the ship never even made it to the pre-selected station. The Tro-Dori obliterated the starship and laughed at us, mocked us... mocked me."
"Unknowingly... they declared war upon themselves. The Tro-Dori never expected Humanity to overwhelm their defense with numbers they'd never seen. Not to forget the son of two murdered parents leading the assault on their homeworld." The man speaking to you paused, before gripping the holo-console within the Captain's Quarters. With a deep inhale, he spoke with cold, indescribeable depth of repressed anger. "When I came to their world, I order my crew, the other Scotts, to unleash the resolve of humanity upon them, all with with a single order...
"Take no prisoner, allow no quarter, wipe them out... all of them." The holo-console shows you exactly what became of the Tro-Dori's homeworld. The USS Spirit of Freedom, an Eldridge-Class Interstellar-Battleship designed for total war, reigned down unimaginable firepower upon their lands. The Scotts and their interstellar-battleship turned citizens, small community, cities, and the Tro-Dori's civilization into ash. When the last group of Tro-Dori attempted to surrender, it was to the Scotts, with their Captain asking the Tro-Dori a singular question.
"You attempt surrender? Begging for mercy? Tell me... when you executed the crew of the Sol-Terra... did you give them mercy?" The Tro-Dori's tri-eyes were instantly filled with indescribeable fear, knowing the only answer to the Captain's question... was no, none what-so-ever. One Tro-Dori spoke up in defiance. "Who are you to care for the dead? Who are you to ask us such!?" However, the Tro-Dori had foolishly asked the very questions that sealed their fate. The man, who'd been telling the tale, grasped the Tro-Dori's scrawny, leather-like neck. He undarked his hemet's visor.
"My name... is Prescott J. Philip, son of a soldier and scientist you executed aboard the Sol-Terra. Who am I, you ask? I am the collective voice and resolve of humanity. May your death-scream, fall upon silent ears, may mistress time wipe away the stain you call "civilization". Die as you lived, begging the universe for a handout. Humanity was peaceful... until you gave us every reason not be." With that said, Prescott ripped the Tro-Dori's head from it's neck. Once he'd taken his revenge, the Scotts ended the last Tro-Dori survivors... no mercy, no prisoners, no quarter... every last one of them driven to accelerated extinction.
Some time passed after the mass-culling of the Tro-Dori. Prescott and the Scotts had become something akin to legends amongst humanity. They would be "diplomats" sent to meet various species wishing to make contact with humanity... while pulling up in the most heavily armed ship in Humanity's vast fleet. It became painfully clear to the various species within the Milky Way Galaxy... Humanity had no intention of letting another Sol-Terra Event happen ever again...