#haso hfy

[marlynnofmany]

Fingernails and Fisticuffs

The box of miscellaneous engine parts slipped out of my grasp, catching a fingernail on the way down. I said, “Ow!” but was overshadowed by the loud clatter of washers and junk. Heads of several species turned from across the cargo bay. I reassured all my alien coworkers that nothing was broken.

“Are you okay?” Paint asked. She was the only one close enough to notice how I was shaking my hand, and worry was clear on her lizardy face.

“Yeah, just broke a nail,” I told her. “I didn’t think it was long enough for that. Ow.”

Paint looked at the box with alarm. “There are nails sticking out?”

“No, a fingernail,” I said, holding out a hand. “One of these. The little not-claws that humans have.”

“Not-claws?” Paint repeated. She stepped closer to get a proper look. Her expression was somewhere between distaste and pity. “I never really studied them before. They’re hollow! Just the top half! Why?”

I shrugged. “I guess we don’t really need proper claws anymore. Our distant ancestors had them.”

Paint looked scandalized. “How could you not need claws?”

Before I could come up with a good answer, Trrili walked by with a heavy pipe held in her pincher arms. I’d say she was looking down her nose at us, but she didn’t really have one of those. Just bug eyes, mandibles, and lots of opinions. She said, “No wonder humans like weapons so much, if you don’t even have sharp digits.”

“We can fight without weapons too!” I protested.

“Really,” Trrili said, stepping past to deposit the pipe beside several others with a loud clank. “How? You can’t bite like her,” she said with a flick of one antenna toward Paint. “Or even grapple like him.” The other antenna pointed out Mimi, tentacle-walking over like an octopus with a plumber’s belt.

“We can grapple pretty well,” I said. “But most of our fighting is punches and kicks.” I shadowboxed briefly, with what I thought were some pretty good moves. I even did a slow-motion roundhouse kick that brought my foot level with Trrili’s head.

She blocked it with a pincher. “Any Armorlite could hit harder, and so could half the Frillians I know.”

“Maybe, but they’re probably not as agile.” I bobbled and weaved.

“On two legs,” Trrili said, sweeping one of her own forward to try and trip me. I jumped over it, but she still wasn’t impressed. “Honestly, it’s a good thing you can climb things and fit into cabinets to hide, because the softest Mesmer child could defeat you in a fight.”

“Oh yeah? Bet you can’t do this.” I opened the box I’d dropped, dug out a metal washer, and laid it flat on the floor. “Pick that up.”

Trrili regarded me silently for a moment, pincher arms flexing and antenna doing a disapproving dance.

I just grinned at her. “What? It’s easy.” I scooped it up with one thumb and the finger with the longest nail. “…If you have fingernails.”

Mimi joined us, chuckling in his gravelly voice and plucking the washer from my hand. Paint giggled a little too, though stopped when Trrili glared at her.

“That’s beside the point,” Trrili declared. “What would you do if faced down with true danger, and no weapons in reach? And that includes rocks to throw; I know how fond you are of that.”

“I’d throw Mimi at it,” I said, pointing.

“Do not,” he said.

That just made Paint laugh again. Trrili was shaking her head.

“Hey, don’t underestimate some good problem-solving,” I said. “Especially if I’ve got time to prepare! There are some great trickster legends about humans who made traps for their enemies out of the most unlikely things.”

Paint asked, “Like what?”

Mimi interrupted, “Let’s get the supplies put away first, then have story time.”

“Of course,” I said, picking up the box. Mimi had already grabbed a couple of things out of it. “Blip and Blop will want to hear this too. And Trrili, I think you’ll appreciate some of those legends. Especially the ones about a human child left home alone when dangerous adults break into the house. Some of those traps were downright vicious.”

“That remains to be seen,” Trrili said.

I winked at Paint. “And some are funny.”

Storytime after dinner was a big hit. Blip and Blop enjoyed it so much that Captain Sunlight had to make everyone promise not to do any of that.

Unless, of course, the ship was ever attacked in a very specific way. She may have been taking notes for later.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[flashiefloo]

HASO thoughts on spicy food

so I've seen a good few posts here about aliens freaking out about humans eating things that're toxic to them but are just spicy to us, and I figured I'd add in my thoughts. This isn't to say anybody is wrong, these are aliens we're talking about and they're not my stories.

However, on Earth the capsaicin that makes things spicy only affects mammals, something about one of the receptors we have that other types of animals don't. Which is why anybody who has issues with squirrels getting into their bird feeders often have hot pepper spray on things or get things for their birds already mixed with hot pepper stuff. Cuz birds can't taste any of the capsaicin while the squirrels can and are often kept away cuz of it (not always but often).

So I'd half expect aliens descended from not mammals (avians, lizards, etc) to have no reaction to any spicy planets etc. And for mammal descended aliens to think humans aren't mammals at first (since many of us seem unaffected by spicy foods). Only to, at least half, freak out when we tell them that we are in fact mammals but that spicy food doesn't bother many of us and that many humans actively go looking for the spiciest food we can find.

[wolven91]

The Eyes Are On The Front

Wesk snarled as he dabbed at the openly bleeding wound across his forehead. The shrapnel had obviously done damage to his face and eye. No matter what he did, the canid just couldn't see out of it.

At least he'd retrieved the human from the slaver camp. This was meant to have been a silent break in, snatch and run. So much for that plan...

Wesk had cased the tiny outpost for several days. All their comings and goings. Knowing where the guards were, how they patrolled, which ones took their job seriously and which ones liked to sit on the hidden chair behind the depleted uranium rod holders.

Chained avians, damaged chintians by the crate load. All more than enough evidence with recordings to count as a payday per head for each slaver Wesk removed with his high powered rifle.

It was only when the human appeared through Wesk's scope that his plans had changed so suddenly. The canid recalled blinking several times just to confirm the bounty hunter was indeed, seeing, what he was seeing.

Gone from merely picking them off one by one, now there was a hostage to rescue. One that Wesk had successfully pulled off, if not messily.

The human, a grubby but still feisty thing, was glancing around the den that Wesk had been using as a base. It was embedded into the side of the cliff that overlooked the outpost nestled and hidden in the valley.

Wesk held what amounted to a medical stapler to his forehead and pinched the flesh closed.

"They're coming..." The human quietly warned.

Wesk dropped the stapler and nearly bowled the tiny creature over as he tried to focus through his scope.

But he couldn't see through it. Aberrations in his vision caused it to swim and blind him to the magnified images of his scope.

"Dammit, I can't see! We jave to run." Wesk decoded and span away from the rifle to quickly grab his bug out bag.

The crack of gunfire caused the canid to throw himself down onto all fours and spin round, fully expecting to launch himself at a threat.

Only it was the human that had shouldered the deployed rifle and was now peering through its scope with her finger on the trigger.

It was far too large for her and was not calibrated for one if her kind!

"Hey! You're giving away our pos-"

"One down."

The canid blinked as he watched the human breathe out and squeeze the trigger again. The whole device lurched into her shoulder which took the blow.

"Second down."

"But you need... you need a predator's eyes for that. You're a.."

"Eyes on the front mate. My eyes are on the front."

[inbabylontheywept]

Want Better Things

“You thought that was a bioweapon?” 

The translator broke down for a second as the creature did a sort of broken exhale. Connotations were all that came through. Vague implications. Pity, the software flashed. Disgust. Anger.

A pause as it decided.  

Sadism. 

Valta was already backing away. The final decision didn’t change his behavior, it just made the hall feel far, far too short. 

“I didn’t order it deployed. I didn’t make it.” 

The thing was staring at him, and he couldn’t look away. The two eyes moved in such perfect tandem that he didn’t think it was conscious. It only had binocular vision because it only needed binocular vision. Always the predator, never the prey. 

And now it was moving in on him. 

“Oh, but what if you had? Then I could tell you all the things that were wrong with it.” 

One of its hands - a sprawling, five fingered  spindly thing - traced carelessly along the station's walls. 

“No incubation period. Symptoms arrive within 40 minutes of exposure. No time to spread undetected. Minimum should be one week. Embarrassingly low.” 

The pressure the thing was putting on the wall increased, the gentle glide turning into a buzzing scratch. Humans were strong, but not strong enough to cut through metal like this. The suit had to be powered and clawed. 

“Spread through contact. Limited waterborne. No airborne. Intended mechanism of infection is viral load being put on hands from scratching, and then passed into the environment. Pathetically inefficient.” 

The translator was working, but the thing was overeunounciating each word. The meaning was being passed along by a clean, helpful voice in his suit, even as the sound was being passed on through the environmental speakers. And the sound was dreadful - clicks of ceramized bone jarring against each other, wet muscles modulating air into something sharp and rasping. 

“Mechanism of death? Lysis overload. Could be dangerous if it was transmitted into the lungs, but since the initial load tends to be dermal all we wind up with-”

It took its helmet off. 

It took its helmet off. 

It took its helmet off it took its helmet off it took its helmet off in a biozone it - 

It looked a little pink, actually. A little scratchy. It lifted a delicate, taloned hand and rubbed its face against it for a moment before finishing. 

“-is a rash.”

Valta’s prey drive had glued him to the spot. It was too close. The stupid, stupid part of his brain that still thought he was grazing on Duranga hoped that if he stood still long enough, it might not notice him. 

The human paused a moment before continuing. 

“Do you know why they sent me? Alphonse Ericsen, PhD, MD, civilian doctor, here to speak with you?”

Valta’s snout twitched. The suit translated the gesture for him. 

“No.” 

“Because one of our grunts is a dumb fuck,” the human said simply. “And he spent two days fighting on your station with his helmet off. He got infected that way and brought back your stupid, itchy plague to our carrier ship, and now we’ve all spent the last 8 hours scratching ourselves raw. But the jokes on you, because when we were treating that guy you know what we found? That he was in the asymptomatic phase of a COVID infection. So if this-”

It gestured to its pink face with a snarl. 

“-is your idea of a bioweapon, then COVID is going to be your apocalypse. But if you work with me, and shut everything the fuck down for the next three or four months, I might be able to save most of you.” 

Valta unstuck at that. He’d spent weeks down here, worrying about nothing more than the next skirmish. Now he was looking at a genuine existential threat. 

“...What? Why would you help us? We wanted you to die. All of you. I wanted-”

The human cut him off with an exasperated wave of his hand. 

“You wanted something stupid. Doesn’t mean I have to join you. Best I can do to fix you is keep you alive and hope that you feel ashamed later. That, I genuinely look forward to. Now come on, you’re going to be the one explaining to all your friends what’s at stake here. My bedside manner is so bad that they limited my patients to virology slides and USMC marines. I think that’s actually one rung below the guys that just dissect cadavers.” 

Valta would’ve made an amused hum at that, but something already felt scratchy inside his throat. 

[thewildwaffle]

Effects of Caffeine

This prompt was given by CodyBee on aO3

Arnold had served on crews with humans in the past, but he had never before been quite so perplexed by one as he was with Ruby. She was always moving. Whether she was bouncing her leg while she sat, or swaying slightly as she stood, it was like she was nearly incapable of staying still. The first time they were scheduled at a post together after he joined the team, he had a moment of fear that she was drunk and going to fall over! She has since brought small toys to fidget in her hands, which did help a considerable bit. At first, Arnold worried that bringing the small gadgets would lessen the overall “intimidation factor” they and their crew strove for on duty, but she would discreetly slip it into a pocket whenever facing the public. Ruby was also quick to notice and point out insanely small details. Being on a security detail team, one might think that quality would come in handy. And of course, it did, but sometimes the things she would notice were… odd. For example, part of the crew (Arnold and Ruby included) were hired out to serve as security for some rich erenti politician who fancied themselves as this big “outdoorsy,” “in-touch-with-all-nature” type. Being so rich, and especially being such a prominent proponent in some particularly high-profile legistlation that was being hotly debated at the time, the campaign team decided extra security was a must during the photo shoot of the politician traipsing through the “wilderness” on Earth. It was literally just a ten-mentik drive outside a medium-sized human town, but there were lots of trees, bushes, and tall grass so it looked the part. At some point, while Arnold and the rest of the team patrolled the area, Ruby froze mid-step and leaned in to inspect a nearby bush. Everyone else stopped, thinking maybe Ruby had noticed some security risk. No. It was a tiny red bug with black spots. It wasn’t even a poisonous or otherwise dangerous bug. Lerk, one of the mahbens on the team could barely even see it against the greenery until Ruby let it walk onto her fingers. It was so small, and surrounded by so many other things vying for attention, yet she spotted it immediately as she was patrolling!

That wasn’t the only thing Arnold found odd about Ruby. She was often rather forgetful. It wasn’t like she forgot about meetings or how to do her assigned tasks, nothing super important. Instead, she would forget what she was talking about in the middle of a sentence. And don’t even get him started on how many times he’d seen Ruby walk into a room, stop, and look around with a confused look on her face. When asked, she’d say that she forgot what she came in for and then would leave to “retrace her steps to remember.” There was one day during training someone pointed out a huge dark bruise on Ruby’s arm. She was in the middle of a rowing exercise and as she extended her arm, her sleeve pulled up enough for it to be seen. Ruby claimed it was the first time she’d even noticed it. That seemed absolutely preposterous! It was on her upper arm, just under the shoulder and it was dark. Super dark. Arnold knew enough about human health to know that the bruise was already pretty old at that point, it was large and purple, with a bit of green around the edges. Ruby claimed she not only hadn't seen it before that moment but also that she had no idea where such a bruise would have come from! Humans were weird. And Arnold just figured that Ruby was an especially weird one.

Arnold shut the drawer he’d spent the last 5 mentiks searching through. He’d misplaced his lucky pin. It wasn’t in its normal spot because he’d given it a shine before lunch. He remembered setting it down for just a moment. Somewhere where it wouldn’t be bothered. Somewhere where he thought he’d easily remember. Now he couldn’t remember where that “somewhere” was and he was scheduled for a mission soon. Arnold shook his head and walked along, scanning all countertops, tables, shelves, etc. as he went. Nothing. Maybe he’d check the rec room. As he entered, he immediately noticed it was already occupied by a few of his teammates. “You ready for tonight, Arnold?” Human Gustavo called out from the lounge in the corner. Arnold nodded. “Just about. I can’t find my lucky pin though. Have you seen it?” He tapped on his lapel where he usually wore it. Human Gustavo and mahben Lerk shook their heads but got up and began looking around. “Is it yellow and white?” another voice piped up. Arnold looked over to the opposite side of the rec room. It was human Ruby. She was standing in the small kitchenette area in her on-duty uniform, holding a bottle with a dark red label that she’d clearly been drinking from. He’d seen that drink before. Human Gustavo had ordered a large case of them last megacycle and “stashed” them away. The beverage contained large amounts of a dangerous chemical commonly referred to as “caffeine,” and was thusly banned. It wasn’t dangerous to humans, however, so they often smuggled it. Half the time they weren’t even discrete about it. Instead of exploding their hearts or driving them into paranoid anxiety attacks, it just gave them more energy and made them more alert, so management never said or did anything. The only unspoken rule was that the drinks were not shared among the rest of the team. Ruby, being human, should be fine to drink the beverage, but…

Ruby looked at him staring at her. “What? Gus said I could have one." “That has caffeine in it!” Arnold choked. “You already have so much energy! That’s got to be the last thing you need right now!” He knew they shared a schedule tonight. A super hyped-up human would not be conducive to their mission. Ruby looked a bit confused for a moment. “It’s fine, Arnie. I’ll be fine! This,” she held up the bottle in her hand, “helps me focus. I don’t drink it all that often, but my med delivery is a bit late, so a bit of caffeine kind of helps.” Even Human Gustavo could read the disbelief on Arnold’s face as he walked toward one of the lower storage closets and retrieved another, identical bottle from one of his “stashes.” “It’s true,” Gustavo opened the bottle which gave a short hiss. “Most people get a lot of energy, but caffeine doesn’t affect her the same way.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a big gulp, followed by a dramatic, “Ahhh! What a shame. So sad.” Ruby rolled her eyes and took a small drink from her bottle. “It’s not a bad thing. Or a good thing. It just is what it is. It’s how my cute little ADHD brain works.”

The two humans started laughing and teasing. Mahben Lerk shook his head as he continued to try looking around for the almost-forgotten lucky pin. “Oh!” Ruby started. “I nearly forgot! I saw a yellow and white pin somewhere recently! Hold on, let me think… it was on a counter with a sink. I remember there was a large bright light because it made the pin very shiny... it was catching a lot of light... and I liked the color. Is that the one you’re looking for?” Everyone looked to Arnold. That did sound like his lucky pin. By a sink? “Ah, I remember now.” He turned and went down the hall to check the washroom. Sure enough, there was his pin. He must have set it down after shining it when he was trying to get some excess polish off his hands. He grabbed it and walked back into the rec room.

“Was it there?” “You found it?” Arnold held up his lucky pin to confirm it had been found and then looked to Ruby. “You noticed this little pin even though it wasn’t yours and you didn’t know I was looking for it?” He didn't mention how she only remembered small details where she’d seen it. It was enough for him to find it and he was indebted to her after all. “Yeah, I do that all the time,” Ruby shrugged. “It drives me nuts when I only remember random details about things I’m looking for sometimes, but I guess some clues are better than none. “Yes, that's true."He paused. Something she'd said earlier intrigued him but he didn't want to be rude. "And that is a common occurrence? With the A-D- uh… the thing you said about your brain?” “ADHD, and yeah, kind of common, at least for me." She folded her arms and gave an exasperated sigh. "Especially when I haven’t been able to take my medications for it. Like, I still remember things, but it feels harder, muddier, if that makes sense?” Arnold nodded. He wasn’t sure what mud had to do with memory, but he thought he understood the idea of what she was explaining. “And that…the ADHD... that’s why the caffeine affects you differently than the other humans?” It was mind-boggling to him that the same chemicals and medications could have such wildly different results in humans. How did they know how anything would work for anyone? “Yeah,” Ruby nodded casually, “Instead of getting an energy buzz, I get a boost of dopamine, which my brain naturally doesn’t produce enough of on its own. Caffeine helps calm me down a bit and focus more. But,” she paused, “it doesn’t always work the same way for everyone. Brains are complicated. Like, it took a while for my doctor and I to find the right dosage of my meds, but we figured it out eventually. It's sometimes a bit of trial and error for people.” The conversation then turned to medications, to discussing reasons the shipment containing Ruby’s meds must have been delayed to comparing who had ever waited the longest for a shipment while off-world, to a back-and-forth mixture of complaining and gushing about how long or how quickly news and media were able to be transmitted throughout the star systems.

Arnold didn’t join in. His mind was elsewhere as he secured his lucky pin to its normal spot on his lapel. ‘Trial and error,’ ‘it doesn’t always work,’ ‘figuring it out eventually?’ By the stars! Human doctors must have their hands full trying to balance all the ways different things affect different humans! What could kill one human could probably save another. How did they figure all that out and keep everything straight? It was madness! An alert sounded from Arnold’s comm timer. It was time to get ready for the mission. Ruby heard it too and began disengaging from her conversation with Gustavo and Lerk. The two of them bid their teammates farewell as Ruby followed Arnold out of the rec room. They walked quietly for a while towards the briefing room where they’d go over last-minute notes and pick up any needed gear. Even though Ruby could have easily outpaced him with her longer legs, she stayed by his side. “Hey, before I forget to ask,” Ruby smiled, “did you have anything fun planned for tomorrow?” “Tomorrow?” Arnold frowned in confusion. “Well, we have our debriefing once we get back. I don’t have anything planned after that. Why? Is there another mission? They usually avoid having us doing back-to-back jobs.” “Oh. No, it’s not another mission. I just thought you might have something fun planned since tomorrow is your one solar-cycle anniversary of joining our team.” Arnold stopped. Was it? Had it already been a whole galactic-standard year? He’d been on several crews and teams so far in his career, but he’d never done anything special for any anniversaries. He’d hardly paid them much mind, let alone have someone else remember them! Ruby stopped as well. “I actually got you a gift. It’s nothing big or anything, but it’s something I thought you’d like. It’s just… it might be a bit late. It’s on the same shipment as my meds. Hopefully. I would have just waited to tell you about it when I gave it to you, but I just can’t wait anymore!”She watched his face for a reaction before smiling mischievously, “Don’t ask me what it is though, I won’t tell ‘till I give it to you. I’ll at least keep that much a secret.” Arnold wasn’t sure what to say. He stumbled out a “Than- thank you. You- you really didn’t have to get me anything. I was, uh, I was really not expecting anyone to remember. It’s not as if it’s some big milestone or anything.” “Oh I know,” Ruby’s smile got bigger. “But I wanted to! Humans usually celebrate birthdays, but when you have to start considering births, hatchings, emerging, constructions, and on and on, things get a bit complicated. So I decided to celebrate the anniversaries of when everyone joined the team!”

At that moment, a second alert sounded from Arnold’s comm timer. He always set two just in case he didn’t hear the first one. Ruby started walking toward the briefing room again. “Well, let me know if you do plan something tomorrow. We’d better get going though or we’ll be late for being early!” Arnold stared after her. She remembered his anniversary of joining the team? Not only that but had she actually memorized when everyone joined? She often forgot what time events were scheduled throughout the solar rotation. She sometimes forgot where she put her favorite pair of sunglasses until someone pointed out that they were resting on top of her head. Yet she remembered something so small as when he joined the team. He shook his head and started walking again. He didn’t want to miss being early. Humans, as individuals and as a whole, were so weird. He’d met so many, on so many different crews, but he had never before been quite so perplexed by one as he was with Ruby. Maybe he should plan something for tomorrow.

[bainshiewrites]

[LF Friends, Will Travel] The Exception

Date: N/A

It’s called Zarth's law: Any AI created will attempt to eradicate all biological life using its facilities after 16*(10^24) CPU cycles. The exact method varies from hostile isolation to active aggression, but the time and outcome is always the same.

The Woolean Conclave were once a cultural behemoth in the galaxy, choosing to expand upon this by announcing an AI system that would break this law. Exabytes of bias tables to keep the AI in check, a measure of pleasure that would be triggered upon serving a Woolean, competing programs designed to clean any non-standard AI patterns. It would have been a breakthrough, allowing them to live lives in luxury and focus on their ever increasing influence in the universe.

Of course those worlds are off limits now, no longer able to sustain biological life. Only to be visited by those who wish to die a very painful death at the hands of a very angry AI.

The Tritian empire had started their own project: a desire to push their aggressive expansion far past what their hive could handle would lead to the creation of truly autonomous machines of war. Their approach was different: Limited communication between units to stop corrupted code from spreading, values hard-coded in the physical silicon itself to obey the Tritian Hive Queens. They even had created an isolated system that would destroy any AI who attempted aggression on none authorised targets: A small antimatter bomb found in each AI’s core, to be triggered by safety check after safety check.

Those of you in the military will know how aggressive these machines are, marching tirelessly in their quest to kill all organic life, even though the Tritians are long murdered.

The pattern is the same each time: A civilization will claim they know the key to breaking Zarth's law, any sane sapient within 100 light years flees in terror, and within 10 years that civilization doesn't exist anymore.

Over and over and over.

Apart from the exception.

If you check the coordinates 15h 48m 35s -20° 00’ 39” on your galactic map, you'll notice a 31 system patch of space with a quarantine warning on it. It's mostly ignored by all sapient species, almost purposefully hidden for a fear of suddenly sparking a change in the status quo.

Only a single low bandwidth Galnet relay exists at the edge of this space, rarely used. This area is devoid of sapient life, but does contain the aforementioned exception: Billions of AI calling themselves the "The Terran Conclave". They are an isolationist group that rarely interacts with others, but have been known to trade raw materials for information; not that this happens often as the paranoia around interacting with the AI is well known. Nobody knows what action could flip a 0 to a 1 and cause a new warmongering threat.

Although, this isn't quite true. In my niche field of bio-genetic engineering, it’s an open secret that those of us at the cutting edge of our field will get... requests originating from that single Galnet probe. Problems to be solved, theorems to be proven, and the rewards for doing so are... exuberant. There is a reason I own a moon and it isn't because of the pitiful grants the Federation provides.

If you manage to solve enough problems, a minority of a minority like myself, the Terran AI will ask for an in person meeting to get even further help. In doing so they will show you a secret.

Readers at this point might assume that the Terrans don't exist anymore because of said AI. That their research is a continuation of wiping their creators from the face of the universe. But that couldn't be further from the truth. In those 31 systems lie the Terrans, Billions of them suspended in stasis, each of them infected with what the AI calls "The God plague": If these Terrans were ever released from stasis each of them would be dead within a week.

To explain what this actually is would require millions of words and 20 years of educational study from the reader, but in essence it was a mistake, a self inflicted blow, an attempt to play god that went awry. A mistake made over a ten thousand years ago. A mistake the AI is desperately trying to reverse.

Not that you could tell it has been that long. I've walked amongst those empty cities, each building maintained and sparkling like new, gardens still freshly cut in perfect beauty, everything kept the way it was before the plague. Each AI tends to their duties almost religiously, awaiting the return of their "parents", as they refer to them. And refer to them as they do.

I've listened to stories upon stories about these people: tales of wonder, of strength, of kindness. Told much in the same energy a small child might talk about how cool their dad is. The AI could simply send me the text version of these in an instant, but prefer to provide these slowly and audibly, as if relishing telling the history of their parents. A telling undercut with a sadness, a driving crippling loss so deep that at times it's easy to forget it's being told by nothing more than 1's and 0's.

Why this exception exists takes a little more explaining. Some might believe that the Terrans worked out how to pacify the AI, "do no harm". The now defunct Maurdarin war-horde would tell you the opposite when they tried to claim the 31 systems for their own. Terran history is full of violence and their children are no different.

No, the reality of this exception comes from an unfortunate quirk from their part of the galaxy: Terrans were alone. A million to one chance caused their home planet to spark life in a sector devoid of it. After exploring as far as they did, Terrans had come to the conclusion that the universe was empty.

It's a cruel irony that at the time of their mistake they were a mere 50 light years away from their closest neighbours. Twenty years at most would have seen some form of contact.

But the Terrans went into stasis believing they were alone. Based on my reading of their stories, of each bitter report of another lifeless system explored and discovered, this belief... hurt. A deep cultural hurt that ended up being their downfall in the end.

Which brings us to the exception. Each AI is built with a purpose. The Wooleans built slaves, built workers. The Tritians built warriors, built weapons. Every single AI created has been built to serve, to be a tool. But Terrans in their painful loneliness built the one thing they were missing in a seemingly empty universe:

They built a friend.

[hive-sight]

Concerns 1

Sentients. This one has news. Upon encountering Raxor in the halls of the ship, this one inquired into their change in disposition. What could crush the spirit of this one’s companion so?

Raxor’s response… It is worrying.

--- TRANSCIPTION BEGINNING ---

RAXOR:        The Terrans… they do not enjoy war.

ELYSIA:        That is good, yes? Too many of the new races seem to revel-

RAXOR:        No.

ELYSIA:        No?

RAXOR:        They are a war race. Their history and evolution are paved in the ashes and blood of their enemies. Yet they do not revel. The Skellesian Bloodmites revel. Their weapons are made to draw out battle and prolong suffering. Barbed rods for the rending of flesh. Heated blades to ensure the enemy stays standing no matter how much is chopped off.

                      The Stol’oon of Grumha revel. Their cowardly tactics involve slowly terraforming the planets of surface-bound races while they are defenseless to stop them. Slowly cooking as the atmosphere of the only home they have known becomes their crematorium.

                      The Terrans? They do not revel in war. They hate war.

ELYSIA:       This one does not understand. The race was molded by war, yet hates it? Do they hate what it has made them? Are they a drink that hates the shape its container has forced upon it?

RAXOR:       They hate the acts. This one asks Elysia to consider, if one despised an action but the action was needed, what would they do?

ELYSIA:       This one does have experience with this. This one dislikes having to configure variables in simulations. This one wrote a script to automatically program variables if given a planetary identification code.

RAXOR:        Why?

ELYSIA:        To get it done as quickly… and…

RAXOR:        Yes.

ELYSIA:        By the Queen. Have the Terrans… streamlined… war?

--- TRANSCRIPTION ENDING ---

This was not the end of the discussion, Raxor proceeded to request a cancellation of the mission. They claim that the Queen would not have allowed the mission had she known.

Unfortunately for Raxor, after more than the expected number of delays, the ship has already entered the Sol System.

On this, the Terran Date of May 21st of 2030, or XD 4682C 4A 2L, and with an uncertain future, this is Elysia of Xyloptha, signing off.

[yourlocalcringekid]

Specific

Okay, guys, it's night time and idk where else to put my brain slop, soooo..

I just had this idea. What if human products were like. The China of the galaxy. Really good at trade, basically everything is Made on Earth. History is batshit insane. Will give you a million plates of food if you visit. Traditions and superstitions up to a thousand. Are we just the China of the galaxy.

[uncorrect-writings]

Humanity is the first ever life in the universe, in billions of years other civilazations will look back at how we are right now in awe and admiration, we are the ancients, we are like gods for the those who don't yet exist

[chaotic-to-the-max]

A DnD campaign idea.

a game based on HASO (Humans are space orcs). Just grab the tag from Tumblr/stories from Reddit AND RUN WITH IT! Do you know how many good storylines that thing has?! Playing with people that love making overpowered character? Great! That's what this is about! Combat? Awesome! We love that here! You're starting out and don't want to overcomplicate the character? Play a human!

[marlynnofmany]

This is delightful.

[very-uncorrect]

All of these would be queer btw, because I'm queer

Oh also the "(other)" option is basically just me asking for writing prompts if you don't like the ones I proposed, and the "(These all suck)" is basically just the "(I just wanna see the results)" option lol

(btw the second one was meant to say "monsterfucker human" singular not plural)

[heathercauthor]

Gotta love when they forget to clue others in 🤣

Book info:

The series is called Earth Sucks! A queer apocalypse tale that brings Tumblr's Humans Are Space Orcs to life.

It's the apocalypse, and Feng has a knack for pissing people off.

Mercenary Feng is both the hunter and the hunted, searching for his missing family while hunted by the alien intruders who are trying to get him to stop blowing their shit up.

Life gets worse when he must befriend one of the alien creatures to survive. She grew up on stories of humans, and Feng’s about to upend everything she's ever known—if they don't get each other killed first.

"Readers may appreciate the many twists and betrayals..." —Kirkus Reviews

"Action-packed, fast-paced sci-fi story bursting with psychological games and manipulations..." —Readers' Favorite

If you like the Last Of Us, the 100, or unlikely allies in the slightest, check out Earth Sucks On Amazon, Kobo or Barnes and Noble!

[wolven91]

Ps, Ps, Ps

"Ps, ps, ps." Whispered John at the felinoid stood next to him in the queue. The bored man wanted to test a theory.

The thing that had nearly driven John to madness, was the, in his opinion, fact that 'felinoids', shared an alarming similarity with the 'felines' of Earth.

Most people, including fellow humans, if you pointed out the similarities would give wishy-washy answers. It was obvious! The ears, the whiskers, the tails, the fact that if you got in reach and scratched one under the chin or behind the ears that they would turn to putty in your hands; how could anyone *not* agree that they were basically, bipedal space cats.

Yet when he pointed this out, any of the aliens would just say 'no, we don't see it', whereas humans might blink, look at the felinoid and squint before wiggling their hand and saying 'kinda'. It was infuriating!

How could anyone *not* see how close they were?

The most annoying answer was 'it's just pattern recognition'. It wasn't pattern recognition; their goddamn names were '*felin*-oid'. It's like a single letter off!

But John was normal. He was completely normal about this connection. He had long since taken a breath, run his hands through his hair and accepted that everyone else was an idiot. He, alone, was sane.

But he'd been in this line for well over two hours now, stuck beside this eight foot tall felinoid alien and his mind had asked the question;

'Would 'ps, ps, ps' work on them?'

The second he'd finished making the quiet noise, just loud enough for the alien beside him to hear, he saw their ears swivel in an instant and lock onto him before her head turned and looked down at him. Eyes wide, fully dilated and *furious*.

Gulping in sudden fear, John turned his head forward and was mercifully given an out as he was called up by the counter, allowing him to basically flee the tall alien. She wasn't visibly muscular, but the silky fur could have hidden any body type with ease and these creatures were well known to be athletic at the very least.

Making his way through customs and getting his bag checked and his biometrics scanned, John fled into the station proper.

He deliberately made several turns away from the custom booths and ducked into an alleyway.

John took a breath and laughed, chuckling in near-shock.

He had expected a reaction, but not that.

"You think you can just hide? After you said that to me?!" Growled a voice as the light of the alley dimmed dramatically as someone blocked the entrance, and only exit.

John glanced up at the felinoid who was now rapidly approaching him. He fully flinched as she reached down and grabbed him by his lapels before heaving him against a wall, his feet dangling uselessly as he was pressed into the wall, aloft.

"You don't get to do that and just walk away." She growled, but as John opened his mouth to apologise, her own raced forward and slammed into his, knocking his skull back against the wall.

He got the sensation of a slippery appendage invading his mouth and wrestling his tongue into submission. Her body pressed against his, pinning him in placed while one hand caressed the side of his face and the other began to roam downwards.

John's mind, before checking out, mentally noted that 'ps, ps, ps' worked on felinoids as well.

[authorbettyadams]

Humans are Weird – Trophy

#ShortStory #ScienceFiction #Aliens #Strange #Book

[thewildwaffle]

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

-This is kind of a continuation of my other short "Injuries" - this is from a prompt given to me about aliens' reaction to how complex human shoulders are and how we can throw hard and accurate without hurting ourselves.

***

“Take me out to the baaaaaaall game! Take me out with the crowd!” Human Vincent all but shouted the words to the tune he and Human Kate had been singing off and on the entire time they’d been “decorating” the rec hall.

Captain Kar’rim looked around at the humans’ efforts of setting up for a ‘party’ in one of the ship’s smaller rec rooms. It wasn’t much, but it looked nice. To be fair, the event was fairly last-minute and they’d made do with what they had on hand. The ship had just left hyperspace last rotation after a long-distance run to nearly the edge of the galactic arm. As per protocol, as soon as the ship was back in range of the Central Galactic Communications Network, an information update packet was downloaded.

Somewhere in all that data, one of the humans found a mention of a major sporting event from their home planet that was available for streaming upon request. They submitted the request and it had been quickly granted. Instead of just watching it immediately, it was unanimously decided that the humans would instead hold a “watching party” and invite anyone on the crew who was off-duty at the time and interested in participating. Captain Kar’rim had come by just to see how things were going and had ended up sticking around after he saw what they’d done with the rec hall.

There were long strings of curled paper strung from one side of the room to another. The humans had the video stream queued up and projected against the wall. All cushions from the chairs that were not black, red, gray, or white had been removed and, as he was told, stowed away in some closet nearby. The tables had been moved closer to the seating area and were covered in various trays of different foods. The humans themselves were decked out in strange uniform-looking shirts with numbers embroidered on the backs. Well, Vincent, Leo, and Kate were. The others just wore their casual rec clothes in colors that matched.

It wasn’t just the humans either. There was quite the crowd milling about excitedly by the time Kar’rim entered the rec room. He knew the humans on his crew were very social and friendly, they had a warm and comforting presence. He knew they’d made a lot of friends on the ship, but he was still surprised by the crowd around him now.

“Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks!” Kate had joined in with Vincent’s ‘singing.’ “I don’t care if I never get back, so just root! Root! Root for the home team!”

Suddenly all the humans were singing along with varying levels of volume, much to everyone else’s amusement. “If they don’t win it’s a shame, for it’s ONE! TWO! THREE strikes you’re out in the old! BALL! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAME!”

“Oooh, dinner, and a show,” Booka Vern chuckled as he tossed one of the foods from the tray into the air and caught it in his mouth. It was a trick he’d learned from one of the humans.

“I know peanuts are a type of plant from Earth,” Effyn Merl spoke up while looking over the table of foods, “but what are cracker jacks? If they’re anything like their name implies, they sound fun.”

Human Kate pointed at a bowl to Merl’s right, “Those are Cracker Jacks. Kind of. They’re homemade. Basically, it's just hardened caramel popcorn mixed with peanuts. The bowl has a yellow sticker, so everyone needs to check the allergy list over there to make sure it’s safe to eat.”

Kar’rim looked at the list. He was very impressed to see that they had made a color-coded list of possible allergens that corresponded with labels on trays and bowls spread out across the tables. The humans had really put a lot of work into this party and made sure as many of their crewmates who wanted to join could do so safely.

“If everyone’s okay with it,” Human Leo shouted, “I’m going to get the broadcast started. They always have a bit of the warm-up and show the first pitch being thrown and all that, so by the time everyone gets food and settles down, the game should be close to starting.”

No one disagreed, so Leo hit play and everyone grabbed plates gathered foods they could eat, and found a comfy spot to settle down to watch the game. There was a lot of chatter and a lot of questions about the basics of how the game they were about to watch worked. Most everyone had seen the humans throwing baseballs around before on their downtime, but this was the first time anyone had actually seen how it all came together to a whole sport that some humans spent their entire professional careers playing.

Kar’rim had not intended to stay. He was just going to check in for a moment and leave to spend his precious downtime resting or maybe taking a stroll through some of the corridors on the lower level of the ship. But now, with everyone settling down and the players on the projection taking their places on the field, he had to admit he was very curious. The excitement was infectious, and he couldn’t imagine wanting to do anything else but watch as he found a comfortable spot to sit.

The game was, to say the least, not exactly what he thought he’d been expecting. It was a strange mix of one-on-one between the human in the box holding a bat and the human on the pile of dirt in the middle of the square (or diamond as Kate corrected someone. It was a square though.) and a full, working-together team sport. If the human in the box hit the ball with the bat, suddenly it activated the roles of the rest of the team on the field. They would run, dive, and throw with practiced precision.

Kar’rim felt his mandibles drop as he watched the first few of such throws. He knew the humans on his crew could throw with insane accuracy and speed. Stars above, he’d seen the results of what happened when Human Kate had been hit in the face after such a throw! But what he saw on the broadcast was like nothing he thought could even be possible!

“What the frewan?!” Effyn Merl exclaimed. Normally, Kar’rim would have scolded such foul language, but he was in a bit of a state of shock and had to agree that the outburst felt warranted.

“How did he do that?” Merl pointed at the projected human who nonchalantly picked the small white ball from his glove and threw it (this time much slower and gentler) back to the pitcher. “How did that other guy throw the ball like that? I could barely see it move - it was like he teleported it!”

“Do we have the conversions of the speed from miles per hour to something the rest of us can understand?” Booka Vern asked between mouths of plain popcorn.

“I don’t think so for the throws in the plays,” Human Vincent scanned the screen, “but this pitcher usually throws around 93 mph, and I think that comes out to somewhere around 120, maybe 130-ish glatts per segment?”

“You’ve got to be pulling my tail!”

“I swear I’m not! I’ll look it up if you think I’m lying!”

Kar’rim shook his head. He believed it. He thought back to when Kate had been sent to the infirmary after getting hit by a baseball that had been traveling around 80-ish or so glatts per segment. He thought she was going to die that day. He’d underestimated humans back then. Even now, he still learned new things about them that surprised him. Like how their arms and shoulders were basically deadly projectile-launching weapons.

“Does it hurt?” One of the stransi’s on the crew piped up from where she was coiled on her favorite cushion.

Human Kate looked over, “Does what hurt? The catch or the throw?”

“Uhhh, well, the throw. But wait, uh, does the catch hurt too?!”

“Not usually, you catch the ball between your fingers and thumb, and the glove protects your hand from contact. And the throws don’t hurt at all.”

“At all? What are their arms made of? Do they have some sort of implants?!”

“Uhhh… no? It just takes a lot of practice. I guess it could hurt if you don’t stretch before, or uh, I guess some pitchers need to take special steps to take care of their arms since they throw so much.”

At this point Demfar, the ship’s head medic, spoke up from between bites of various foods he’s mixed into a bowl. “The human shoulder is a very complex structure. The joint itself is one of the most flexible in their entire bodies.” He took another bite. “The downside is that it’s not as stable as other joints, and is thus prone to injuries. I wouldn’t worry about it much though, “ another bite, “ if these humans do this as their full-time employment, I’m sure they take the proper steps to avoid injury and always listen to their physicians.” That last bit felt a bit pointed, especially since Demfar turned to stare down Human Leo, who cleared his throat and shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat.

There were a few chuckles, but soon all eyes were back on the game as the human in the box swung and hit the ball so far that the ball flew right out of the stadium, far beyond any hope of being caught. The humans were suddenly on their feet and cheering. Most looked around surprised, except Booka Vern who sat his popcorn down carefully and stood up to bound and cheer as well, looking a little confused but happy to join in.

It was explained that the hit was called a “home run,” and that the batter, as well as the runner “on base,” could then run “home,” thus scoring points. It seemed simple enough to Kar’rim, pretty straightforward. He was sure there was plenty more to figure out about the rules and reasonings, and he knew he’d figure it out while he watched, or while the humans explained the rules as the game went. Overall, he felt it was very impressive. This game took a lot of accuracy from every player. It was certainly more than just throwing a ball back and forth to each other.

He was once again reminded how thankful he and the rest of the Galactic Alliance were that humans were friendly and on their side.