Somewhere out there on a planet very far away is a civilization that has included our sun in a beloved constellation of some animal we couldn’t dream up if we tried
Tags:
#aliens #this probably deserves some warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
This is set in the same universe as #5: Build, but features a completely different species and set of characters.
Rrahe’nek stared at the tiny, coatless creature looking up at him, its teeth bared but its digits bereft of weapons. Instead, there was a rich-smelling ceramic dish in its hands, hot, steaming and wrapped in a cloth. It spoke incomprehensibly.
He had come here expecting a battle. Hoping. The newest species to enter galactic territory was a protégé of the Diwar, and Rrahe’nek despised the feathered ones. They were arrogant, but pathetic. Their weapons were superb, no one denied that, but their warriors were cowards, planting bombs and running away. Rrahe’nek had heard that their proteges had far inferior technology, were smaller, and had no natural physical weapons. Either they were the weakest prey-sapients the Kai had ever encountered, or they had ferocious battle techniques to make up for their biological inadequacies. When one had come alone toward the Kai encampment, Rrahe’nek had been delighted, assuming it was the second option. He had come out alone himself to meet the alien warrior in battle, take its measure… and defeat it, of course, no aliens had ever defeated a Kai warrior in single combat, but the contest would be exhilarating before Rrahe’nek won it in the end.
Instead, here he was faced with a small alien with a curled mane, but no fur elsewhere on its body, holding out what smelled like a dish of cooked food.
He poked his tongue into the bead at the back of his mouth that activated his voder as a communicator. “Warrior Fifth Rank Rrahe’nek to den.”
“Den here, Warrior Fifth. Heat signature says you’re in range of the alien, but have not engaged?”
“That’s correct. It – it seems to be trying to give me food.”
A moment of silence. Then, “What.”
“Its teeth are bared, but it has no weapons, it’s made no threatening moves, it isn’t running away, and it’s trying to hand me a dish that smells like fish.”
“Hold position. We’re getting eyes on your location.”
“Acknowledged.”
Reblogged from writing blog.
Tags:
#storytime #aliens #food #violence cw
{{Title link: http://alicorn.elcenia.com/stories/starwink.shtml }}
New short story. Science fiction, < 10,000 words. A commissioned re-write of @yudkowsky‘s That Alien Message.
Tags:
#storytime #recs #aliens
Thought about “Humans are space orcs/space fae”. There was a line talking about how theres a human working on a ship but no-ones entirely sure if they’re meant to be there, but they didn’t want to like offend the terrifying space orc.
What if the “drifter” archetype continues into space? Like maybe we negotiated for free travel with one of our allies, but because humans come from a death world and are terrfiying, and because humans can be oblivious, we just assume we can board on any ship going anywhere, nbd?
like not as stowaways. we’re not hiding. Like those wolves and wild dogs in russia that use the railways. Are YOU going to tell a wolf they shouldn’t be riding the train?!? Thought not.
Captain Diii did not become aware of the… problem until her ship was a full half-cycle out from the resupply station. She was halfway through a standard sweep of the ship, to be sure it was all in good order, when she came across a sort of cocoon constructed of light, sturdy fabric strung up in the end of service corridor alpha. It was not blocking access to anything of even minor importance, it simply was not meant to be there. It had no use she could discern, but it had no place aboard Captain Diii’s ship.
“What is the purpose of this?” Captain Diii asked the young technician assigned to the sector.
Their mood-spots cycled to anxiety-orange as their feet shuffled in discomfort. “The human called it her ‘hammock’ and said it would be out of the way there?”
A human. On Captain Diii’s ship. Her spots flashed from fear to anger to consternation and settled on worry. This had never before happened to her. She’d only been captain for two annuals, and she operated so far from any of the major travel hubs she had hoped she would not have to deal with this.
The problem had started after the war. The terrifying human ‘marines’ had been key to repelling the Kkoin invaders, with their wild recklessness and near-indestructibility. They had put an end to the war very quickly, and the terms of alliance in exchange for this service had been seen as extremely generous. They asked for transportation, mainly, since human FTL drives still lagged behind galactic standard. It had been assumed that by this they meant transporting goods and perhaps colonists by arrangement, but the wording had been ambiguous in translation.
That did happen, but in addition humans would simply… step onto ships going where they wanted to go. And stay. Who would dare contradict a human? Any one of them could turn deadly at a moment’s notice. Their hardiness and ferocity was legend. As of yet, no way of repelling them had been 100% effective. Their comfort range was massive, so keeping a ship hot or cold did not help. Scents designed to be maximally unpleasant to the human sensory array dissuaded some, but others would simply laugh and joke about them as they boarded anyway. It seemed they could acclimate to even the most noxious of scents within a few cycles.
Some humans would uproot their entire families and head for another planet, seemingly on a whim. Other humans would then go visit these families, and go back home, or not. Some humans traveled from planet to planet and station to station to satisfy their near-endless curiosity. Some traveled because to travel and see new things gave them pleasure, and then returned to their homes seemingly refreshed.
Such a strange species.
Captain Diii had been certain she had assigned someone to guard the ship and tell any hopeful humans that there was no space for them if they tried to board. Captain Diii did not have any facilities for humans aboard her ship. She hurried to the nearest communication pod and signaled for her second in command, Taa, to join her.
Taa already had anxiety flashing on her mood spots when she arrived.
“Taa, were you not assigned to inform humans that there was no space?” Captain Diii asked.
“I did, Captain!” Taa protested. “But she answered that she did not need much and walked right past me! What could I do?”
“And where is she now?” Diii asked.
“The kitchens. She… she said she wanted to be added to the duty roster, and that she enjoyed food preparation?”
That was another thing about the humans. They almost all wanted to work on the ships they boarded. Often they threw duty schedules into disarray by simply volunteering themselves to do tasks. At least this one seemed to know to ask the officer in charge of duties.
Diii found the human in the kitchens, as expected. She was very tall and thin for her type, of the morph ‘all bones’, if Diii was remembering the mandatory human-culture lessons that had been recently been added to ships-captain certification classes. She seemed to lack the jiggling bits that were so disconcerting on some humans. She did not reek of artificial fragrances as some humans did, instead scented pleasantly of human natural musk. Her head-covering stands, ‘hair’, was a friendly violet. Diii was certain this was not a natural coloration for the species. Her loose cloth coverings were earthy browns and creams, reminiscent of a child’s camouflage.
The human turned to look at Captain Diii, and showed her white-bone teeth in the body language ‘smile’, a gesture of friendliness and pleasure. Now that she was turned, Diii could see that half of the human’s head was shaved, and an array of electronics were installed directly in her skull. It was testament to their extraordinary healing powers that augmenting themselves with inorganic parts was commonplace in human culture. The humans had the technology to make their implants invisible, but some chose to make them visible because it looked ‘bad posterior’, which was somehow a good thing and aesthetically pleasing to them?
The human’s implants lit up, showing the exact blue of happiness, as she straightened up to give the human ‘salute’–a greeting to a superior. “Captain Diii? It’s good to meet you. I’m Elizabeth, but you can call me Zizi.”
Captain Diii could not help but be somewhat charmed. She must have the latest language-translation chip, Zizi’s speech was near perfect, and that she had something that functioned nearly like mood-spots was comforting. Her chosen name, as well, was easy to pronounce and nonthreateningly low-status.
“A greeting, Zizi,” Captain Diii answered carefully. “May I inquire your purpose aboard my ship?”
“Oh, I’m just a drifter,” Zizi said. “I just love traveling, you know? I heard the moons of Sigma7 were gorgeous, so I’m working my way that-a-ways.” Zizi’s pseudo-mood spot lights switched to anticipation before cycling back to happiness. “I’ll be off your ship at the next supply depot, if I can find someone heading more that direction.”
Ah, the ‘drifter’ type. Captain Diii had heard of them. ‘ship-hoppers’. An entire sub-class of humans who wandered the galaxy simply because they did not want to do anything else. They were famously the most difficult to dissuade from boarding a ship, and most likely to board from strange ports and going strange directions. Clearly it was not Taa’s fault she had been unable to keep Zizi out, and Diii signaled brief apology toward her.
“I won’t be any trouble,” Zizi continued. “I can set my hammock up anywhere to sleep, if it’s in your way?”
“The location you have chosen is… acceptable,” Captain Diii allowed. Zizi’s hair’s constant show of friendly had her own spots heading toward that color in automatic prosocial response. It was somewhat disconcerting. “I will leave you to your work,” Captain Diii said, retreating, and Zizi smiled and threw another quick salute before turning back to the food on the stove. Her implants showed concentration and curiosity, and then Captain Diii was outside the room with her again.
She turned toward Taa, who was still concerned. “I have heard that ships with a human listed on their crew roster have a 30% lower chance of being targeted by pirates?” Taa volunteered.
“Yes, yes,” Captain Diii mused. The risk was very low to begin with, especially for a ship like hers that did not haul valuable cargo, but anything that lowered it further could not be all bad. “It is not your fault in any case, Taa. Nothing could have prevented this human from boarding.”
Taa relaxed some, and Captain Diii returned to her inspection of the ship. Then she went to the helm and transmitted her updated crew roster to the main control base, encrypted only very lightly.
It certainly would not be bad to be known to have a human aboard.
Anybody in the mood for another Zizi story?
.
Crew satisfaction with meals increased by ~12% when the human drifter Zizi was working in the kitchens. She had the same base ingredients to work with that were aboard any ship, but her inventiveness with seasonings leant an artificial sense of variety to the meals.
Who would have thought to add sourleaf to a puddingfruit custard, or sweet red spice to a savory stew? And yet the combinations were delicious. When questioned, Zizi claimed to cook ‘by feel’ rather than following recipes. Most curious. Captain Diii’s favorite invention of Zizi’s was a thing she called ‘chai’, a rich spicy infusion in sweetened hot water. She said it was for relaxation, and Diii was not the only one who found themself sipping on a warm cup in the lounge at the end of shift.
Zizi was often in the lounge when she was off duty. She integrated with the crew very easily, making friendly overtures and playing games. She was already a master at Snap and Shuffle, the most popular games among the younger crew, and she also had a ‘pack of cards’, worn rectangles of stiff paper with drawings on them, and taught a few of the crew the human games ‘go fish’ and ‘texas hold ‘em’.
Zizi was even willing to help in duties that were not her own, if requested. When a hard-to-reach relay fuse burnt out, the engineers enlisted the reach of her long arms to replace it without having to take the wall apart. When Lucu, the youngest of the cleaning staff, injured their graspers and was barred from duty for five cycles, Zizi was one of the volunteers to perform their duties, and did so will skill and efficiency. When the algal vats in the air purification and reoxygenation plant needed turning, Zizi joined in, uncomplaining despite the heavy work.
All in all, having a human aboard was not as bad as Captain Diii had
feared. It was, in fact, entirely pleasant–though that had more to do
with this individual human than humans in general.“You have many skills, human Zizi,” Captain Diii praised. Both she and Zizi were off their duty shift, and enjoying a cup of ‘chai’ together. Her mood spots were showing a mild violet to match the human’s hair, both of them happy to be sharing friendly companionship.
Zizi rubbed at the back of her neck, ducking a bit and her pseudo-mood-spots showing faint embarrassment. “Well, I’m a jack-of-all-trades, and you know what they say about those. Master of none.”
Ah, yes, Captain Diii had heart of the jack-of-all-trades subtype of human, able to achieve proficiency in a great number of skills. No wonder Zizi was so versatile and creative! This only confirmed to Diii that what she had discussed with Taa was the correct course of action, and her mood spots headed toward both excitement and worry.
“In another three cycles we will reach the supply depot,” Captain Diii began. “You have proven yourself a valuable member of the crew, and all would be sad to see you leave. We as a ship extend to you an offer: will you contract as a paid crew member for a full annual?”
The human Zizi blinked her eyes at Captain Diii several times, which body language she did not know how to interpret. “You’re offering to hire me?”
“Yes. I can offer standard wages and a private space in the crew quarters.” Captain Diii said. Taa had recently pair-bonded with two of the engineers, moving them into her rooms, so there was an available berth. It was not much, but it was all Captain Diii could offer.
“Wow, that would be perfect!” Zizi stated, before Diii could become too worried about her response. She bared her teeth in a wide smile, mood implants lighting up with joy. “I love this ship, and I was about out of money too, haha! Thank you so much Captain, I accept!”
Captain Diii’s mood spots flickered to joy as well, answering Zizi’s happiness with her own. She was absolutely certain she had made the correct decision. Zizi was certainly good for the ship and crew.
And maybe, if they were lucky, having such a high-quality human aboard would keep lower-quality humans from taking up residence.
.
The time has come. The time for more Zizi and Diii.
.
Hiring Zizi as a crewmember was an absolute success. Their very own ‘jack-of-all-trades’, able to fill nearly any role with little teaching, and at the standard wages for a single crewmember! Diii was proud to be able to claim her ship’s human as a valuable asset when other captains attempted to commiserate about humans boarding their ships. There was no shortage of jealous captains, but Diii had hired Zizi first.
Should Zizi follow her drifter inclinations to leave Diii’s crew once her contracted annual was over, she would be able to hire on to any number of other ships. Still, Diii was glad to have her while she could.
Zizi was far more aggressive than Taa would dare to be, dissuading other humans from choosing to board the ship. It was convenient to be able to assign her the task, and know that she could keep her species-mates away. Zizi also had a talent for haggling with Yikar merchants, common in some of the supply depots Diii’s ship frequented. With Zizi along, essentials could be purchased at an average of 14% lower price–not a difference to be underestimated!
Not to say that there were not occasional problems. Such was inevitable. Once, Zizi got into a screaming argument with another human who wished to board the ship, which became a physical altercation, which the supply depot’s security bots broke up. How utterly mortifying to have to explain to the security monitors that Zizi had been following orders, and that Diii wished her returned so that they might make an on-schedule departure. Diii’s spots were tinged with anxiety-orange for three full cycles afterward!
Another time, through either malice or inattention, a Yikar merchant sold Zizi an assortment of spices that included deadly poisons! Of course, they would not harm Zizi–some of them came from the human’s own eggworld. It was only luck that one of the senior cooks had been in the kitchen when Zizi happily brought in the spices to experiment with them, and recognized them for the poisons they were. Otherwise, the entire crew might have been lost! Everyone loved Zizi’s cooking. Thankfully, the ‘garlics’ were caught and properly disposed of before they were even opened, and Zizi did not make the same mistake again.
Most distressing was the time when, rather than keeping other humans out, Zizi brought an entire group of them into the ship. The ship had stopped at one of the most major travel hubs they frequented, and Zizi was greeted by a group of humans of assorted morphs, whom she clung to tight with her long arms, and pressed her mouth to in the human ‘kisses’. Her mood implants burned with joy.
They were a very loud group, and Zizi briefly introduced them as ‘my people’ before bringing them into the ship and entirely taking over the crew lounge. Their harsh barks, the human ‘laughter’, echoed through the entire ship at irregular intervals. They had some terrible sound technology, rhythmic beats and discordant screeching, which those few who were able to get close enough to the lounge to observe them reported that they moved their bodies to.
The sound assault never stopped, but it did become quieter as the cycle ended. Diii braved herself to peer into the lounge, to see that they had wires connected to the electronic implants in their skulls, and were manipulating them to effects they seemed to find humorous or pleasurable. It was barbaric, horrifying, and Diii retreated again before they saw her.
Diii had of course heard of the common human practice of altering their mental chemistry, through means both safe and deadly, for the sake of entertainment. She had thought their human was different. Not, it seemed, when she was among her own kind!
There was massive consternation throughout the crew. Of course there was. Humans were known for their pack-bonding, and as much as Zizi had seemed to bond to the crew, she was still human. What if she had chosen to bring all of ‘her people’ into the ship permanently? There might be enough room for them all in Zizi’s crew quarters, should they all have cocoons like her ‘hammock’ for sleeping in.
Thankfully, the group left after a cycle and a half–just before the ship was due to leave port. Zizi moved slowly and wore dark coverings over her eyes for another half cycle after that, claiming to suffer from ‘an overhang of cyberjacking’. She recovered after a single sleep cycle, and all in the ship returned to normal.
Still, as stressful as these few incidents were, Zizi was overall a very useful crew member. She worked hard, and was cheerful, and her good cheer transferred to all the crew. They all loved their Zizi, especially the younger crew, even though she was human.
Her good cheer was so ubiquitous, it became immediately obvious when it left her. This was five and six supply depot stops after the stressful invasion of ‘Zizi’s people’, a little over halfway through Zizi’s annual contract. Zizi requested time away from the ship at the fourth stop, and returned with frustration tinting her pseudo mood spots. She began to show anxiety before the fifth, again requested time away from the ship, and returned with her pseudo-mood-spots glowing with orange anxiety and bleeding into fear. Her anxiety increased before the sixth, and Captain Diii of course granted her the time she needed away from the ship.
None of her careful research could tell her why a previously happy human might become stressed, when nothing in the ship had changed. Truly, there was not much known of them other than their battle prowess and propensity toward boarding ships going the direction they wished to go.
Zizi was furious when she returned. Her long angular limbs moved sharply, pseudo-mood-spots flashing warning, and all the crew scattered away from her in terror. Zizi kicked the wall three times as soon as she was within the ship, her heavy boots leaving dents. She slammed her fists against the wall and screamed, a high and horrible sound. Taa, heavy now with gestating zygotes and so having the strongest protective instincts, fell to the floor, limbs curled in tight as she went catatonic in self-preservation, and she was only the first. Many of the younger crew followed her example. Captain Diii felt the instinct herself, but she straightened her limbs and respirated carefully, drawing on her captain’s training to resist it.
Then Zizi crumpled to the floor, as though mortally wounded. She barked, shoulders heaving. It was only when Diii gathered the presence of mind to realize that her mood implants were showing utter misery that she realized what Zizi was doing was the human ‘crying’, and not ‘laughing’. It was a thing that humans did when very distressed.
Captain Diii approached cautiously. “Crew Zizi? What is the reason for this distress?” she quarried. She reached out, carefully, to pat Zizi’s warm shoulder with one grasper.
Zizi turned to face her, flopping over to sit on the floor rather than kneel. Her eyes were overflowing with water, and she made a loud wet noise with her nose before wiping them with her sleeve. Then she seemed to notice the catatonic crew, and dropped her head down between her knees. Her mood implants looked more miserable than Diii had ever seen, and it only sharpened her own distress.
“Reproduction and excrement, captain. I’m sorry,” Zizi apologized. “I didn’t mean to… I’m ‘distressed’ because I can’t get my girl pills out here. Nowhere’s got them, and my stock’s running out.”
Captain Diii patted Zizi’s shoulder again, more lingeringly this time. It did not feel wrong, to take such a liberty, and it did seem to ease the sharpness of Zizi’s misery. And when Zizi reached up, covering Diii’s grasper with her own to hold it close, that did not feel wrong either.
“You require a ‘pills’?” Diii asked. “May I ask a clarification?”
“Yeah, it’s… reproduction, how would you understand it?” Zizi made the loud wet sound with her nose again, a sharp inhale. “They help me keep the right morph? I’d grow into a different one otherwise.”
“To be honest, human Zizi, it is very difficult to tell your official morphs apart.” The way the humans classified themselves defied all logic.
“Yeah, I know.” Zizi looked up at Diii, her mouth turning up on the edges just a bit, though her eyes were reddened and wet. “That’s part of why I love traveling with you guys. You take me at my word, what morph I am. But… it matters to me that my body doesn’t grow wrong?”
“Then it is a matter of crew wellness,” Captain Diii decided, firmly. She gave Zizi’s shoulder a squeeze. “You must tell me exactly what these ‘pills’ are, and we will send an urgent message ahead to our next depot requisitioning them. It must be paid for from the health and safety budget, of course. You are an important member of the crew.”
Zizi’s mouth fell open, her teeth showing behind her lax lips. She blinked at Captain Diii, mood implants showing shock and then a burst of joy as her eyes began to overflow again.
“I really need to hug you,” she said, and wrapped her long arms around Diii’s middle. She rested her head against Diii’s central bulk, like a hatchling seeking safety, and it felt very natural to Diii to wrap several graspers around her to hold her close.
“You’re the best, Captain. Just the best,” Zizi said. Best based on what rubric, she did not clarify, but human speech was well known to be full of hyperbole.
“You are most satisfactory as a crew member,” Captain Diii assured Zizi. “Now, will you help to revive the catatonic crew? I believe some of your ‘chai’ would go well, after such excitement.”
“Yes, Captain.” Zizi released Diii from the ‘hug’ and levered herself to her feet, then bent down to press one of her human ‘kiss’ to the top of Diii’s head. She wiped her eyes one last time, gave a salute, and headed for the kitchen.
There. The crisis was ended, as quickly as it had begun. Diii had no doubt that Zizi would prove as adept at soothing and reviving catatonic crew as she was everything else she set her hand to.
Though difficulties like this were bound to arise any time different species shared a space, Zizi’s inclusion in the crew could only be calculated to an overall benefit.
Captain Diii was more than lucky to have hired her before some other crew snapped her up.
.
FIN
I hope you enjoyed. I don’t think I have any more Zizi and Diii stories to share.
Love my writing? My first novel has some very fun humans and aliens cohabitating (and loving each other), if that’s your jam.
You can preorder it [here]!
Tags:
#storytime #aliens #long post
Bad: aliens that insist upon referring to human women as “feeeeemales”.
Good: aliens that insist upon dividing humans into binary categories, but the binary in question is based on something we’d regard as trivial and bizarre.
pro cilantro and anti cilantro
Just to screw with us they refer to have designated half the population as “edible” and the other half is “inedible.”
No intention of eating anyone, they just like how uncomfortable it makes everyone.
Even better: the aliens all agree on who is edible and who is inedible, but the humans have no idea what the criteria is
Even better: there is no criteria, the Aliens just keep a running list of whenever one member designated a human as edible or not. People are baffled because the selection appears random yet all the aliens are up to date, so there must be SOMETHJNG
I love this because it implies the aliens possess either (1) a universal hive mind or (2) an intergalactic group chat dedicated to fucking with humanity
they have a hive mind but they only use it as a shitty groupchat for this kind of stuff
Tags:
#aliens #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #cannibalism cw?
On the topic of humans being everyone’s favorite Intergalactic versions of Gonzo the Great:
Come on you guys, I’ve seen all the hilarious additions to my “humans are the friendly ones” post. We’re basically Steve Irwin meets Gonzo from the Muppets at this point. I love it.But what if certain species of aliens have Rules for dealing with humans?
- Don’t eat their food. If human food passes your lips/beak/membrane/other way of ingesting nutrients, you will never be satisfied with your ration bars again.
- Don’t tell them your name. Humans can find you again once they know your name and this can be either life-saving or the absolute worst thing that could happen to you, depending on whether or not they favor you. Better to be on the safe side.
- Winning a human’s favor will ensure that a great deal of luck is on your side, but if you anger them, they are wholly capable of wiping out everything you ever cared about. Do not anger them.
- If you must anger them, carry a cage of X’arvizian bloodflies with you, for they resemble Earth mo-skee-toes and the human will avoid them.
- This does not always work. Have a last will and testament ready.
- Do not let them take you anywhere on your planet that you cannot fly a ship from. Beings who are spirited away to the human kingdom of Aria Fiv-Ti Won rarely return, and those that do are never quite the same.
Basically, humans are like the Fair Folk to some aliens and half of them are scared to death and the others are like alien teenagers who are like “I dare you to ask a human to take you to Earth”.
We knew about the planet called Earth for centuries before we made contact with its indigenous species, of course. We spent decades studying them from afar.
The first researchers had to fight for years to even get a grant, of course. They kept getting laughed out of the halls. A T-Class Death World that had not only produced sapient life, but a Stage Two civilization? It was a joke, obviously. It had to be a joke.
And then it wasn’t. And we all stopped laughing. Instead, we got very, very nervous.
We watched as the human civilizations not only survived, but grew, and thrived, and invented things that we had never even conceived of. Terrible things, weapons of war, implements of destruction as brutal and powerful as one would imagine a death world’s children to be. In the space of less than two thousand years, they had already produced implements of mass death that would have horrified the most callous dictators in the long, dark history of the galaxy.
Already, the children of Earth were the most terrifying creatures in the galaxy. They became the stuff of horror stories, nightly warnings told to children; huge, hulking, brutish things, that hacked and slashed and stabbed and shot and burned and survived, that built monstrous metal things that rumbled across the landscape and blasted buildings to ruin.
All that preserved us was their lack of space flight. In their obsession with murdering one another, the humans had locked themselves into a rigid framework of physics that thankfully omitted the equations necessary to achieve interstellar travel.
They became our bogeymen. Locked away in their prison planet, surrounded by a cordon of non-interference, prevented from ravaging the galaxy only by their own insatiable need to kill one another. Gruesome and terrible, yes – but at least we were safe.
Or so we thought.
The cities were called Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In the moment of their destruction, the humans unlocked a destructive force greater than any of us could ever have believed possible. It was at that moment that those of us who studied their technology knew their escape to be inevitable, and that no force in the universe could have hoped to stand against them.
The first human spacecraft were… exactly what we should have expected them to be. There were no elegant solar wings, no sleek, silvered hulls plying the ocean of stars. They did not soar on the stellar currents. They did not even register their existence. Humanity flew in the only way it could: on all-consuming pillars of fire, pounding space itself into submission with explosion after explosion. Their ships were crude, ugly, bulky things, huge slabs of metal welded together, built to withstand the inconceivable forces necessary to propel themselves into space through violence alone.
It was almost comical. The huge, dumb brutes simply strapped an explosive to their backs and let it throw them off of the planet.
We would have laughed, if it hadn’t terrified us.
Humanity, at long last, was awake.
It was a slow process. It took them nearly a hundred years to reach their nearest planetary neighbor; a hundred more to conquer the rest of their solar system. The process of refining their explosive propulsion systems – now powered by the same force that had melted their cities into glass less than a thousand years before – was slow and haphazard. But it worked. Year by year, they inched outward, conquering and subduing world after world that we had deemed unfit for habitation. They burrowed into moons, built orbital colonies around gas giants, even crafted habitats that drifted in the hearts of blazing nebulas. They never stopped. Never slowed.
The no-contact cordon was generous, and was extended by the day. As human colonies pushed farther and farther outward, we retreated, gave them the space that they wanted in a desperate attempt at… stalling for time, perhaps. Or some sort of appeasement. Or sheer, abject terror. Debates were held daily, arguing about whether or not first contact should be initiated, and how, and by whom, and with what failsafes. No agreement was ever reached.
We were comically unprepared for the humans to initiate contact themselves.
It was almost an accident. The humans had achieved another breakthrough in propulsion physics, and took an unexpected leap of several hundred light years, coming into orbit around an inhabited world.
What ensued was the diplomatic equivalent of everyone staring awkwardly at one another for a few moments, and then turning around and walking slowly out of the room.
The human ship leapt away after some thirty minutes without initiating any sort of formal communications, but we knew that we had been discovered, and the message of our existence was being carried back to Terra.
The situation in the senate could only be described as “absolute, incoherent panic”. They had discovered us before our preparations were complete. What would they want? What demands would they make? What hope did we have against them if they chose to wage war against us and claim the galaxy for themselves? The most meager of human ships was beyond our capacity to engage militarily; even unarmed transport vessels were so thickly armored as to be functionally indestructible to our weapons.
We waited, every day, certain that we were on the brink of war. We hunkered in our homes, and stared.
Across the darkness of space, humanity stared back.
There were other instances of contact. Human ships – armed, now – entering colonized space for a few scant moments, and then leaving upon finding our meager defensive batteries pointed in their direction. They never initiated communications. We were too frightened to.
A few weeks later, the humans discovered Alphari-296.
It was a border world. A new colony, on an ocean planet that was proving to be less hospitable than initially thought. Its military garrison was pitifully small to begin with. We had been trying desperately to shore it up, afraid that the humans might sense weakness and attack, but things were made complicated by the disease – the medical staff of the colonies were unable to devise a cure, or even a treatment, and what pitifully small population remained on the planet were slowly vomiting themselves to death.
When the human fleet arrived in orbit, the rest of the galaxy wrote Alphari-296 off as lost.
I was there, on the surface, when the great gray ships came screaming down from the sky. Crude, inelegant things, all jagged metal and sharp edges, barely holding together. I sat there, on the balcony of the clinic full of patients that I did not have the resources or the expertise to help, and looked up with the blank, empty, numb stare of one who is certain that they are about to die.
I remember the symbols emblazoned on the sides of each ship, glaring in the sun as the ships landed inelegantly on the spaceport landing pads that had never been designed for anything so large. It was the same symbol that was painted on the helmets of every human that strode out of the ships, carrying huge black cases, their faces obscured by dark visors. It was the first flag that humans ever carried into our worlds.
It was a crude image of a human figure, rendered in simple, straight lines, with a dot for the head. It was painted in white, over a red cross.
The first human to approach me was a female, though I did not learn this until much later – it was impossible to ascertain gender through the bulky suit and the mask. But she strode up the stairs onto the balcony, carrying that black case that was nearly the size of my entire body, and paused as I stared blankly up at her. I was vaguely aware that I was witnessing history, and quite certain that I would not live to tell of it.
Then, to my amazement, she said, in halting, uncertain words, “You are the head doctor?”
I nodded.
The visor cleared. The human bared its teeth at me. I learned later that this was a “grin”, an expression of friendship and happiness among their species.
“We are The Doctors Without Borders,” she said, speaking slowly and carefully. “We are here to help.”
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
THE ENDING
*cries with joy*
Tags:
#long post #storytime #aliens #death tw #illness tw #I feel like this probably deserves some additional warning tag but I’m not sure what
Inspired by various tumblr posts.
Humans quickly get a reputation among the interplanetry alliance and the reputation is this: when going somewhere dangerous, take a human.
Humans are tough. Humans can last days without food. Humans heal so fast they pierce holes in themselves or inject ink for fun. Humans will walk for days on broken bones in order to make it to safety. Humans will literally cut off bits of themselves if trapped by a disaster.
You would be amazed what humans will do to survive. Or to ensure the survival of others they feel responsible for.
That’s the other thing. Humans pack-bond, and they spill their pack-bonding instincts everywhere. Sure it’s weird when they talk sympathetically to broken spaceships or try to pet every lifeform that scans as non-toxic. It’s even a little weird that just existing in the same place as them for long enough seems to make them care about you. But if you’re hurt, if you’re trapped, if you need someone to fetch help?
You really want a human.
“Looks like someone for you.”
Jon kicked Ginna’s boots, which were currently resting on the table, and she glanced over toward the door. A clump of knee-high aliens, plump and round and covered in golden fur, were lifting their little pink noses into the air – scenting the air in the bar.
Sashrans. Perfect.
Ginna quickly downed the last of her drink and dropped her feet to the floor. The Gentleman of Fortune was full to the gills of professional companions looking for work, she wouldn’t be the only one in here with a fondness for sashrans. She needed to work quickly if she wanted a chance at whatever job these ones were hiring for. The sound and vibration of her boots caught the attention of the group, and Ginna followed it quickly with a greeting in the quiet shushing sounds of their own language.
A universal translator would take care of most of the talking, but by knowing a little of their language Ginna proved she had worked with their kind before and cared enough to learn it. Caring was probably the most important skill a companion could cultivate.
It paid off. The group of sashrans centered quickly on her and darted over, still in their clump.
“I am human Ginna, companion for hire,” Ginna introduced, tapping the side of her visor to activate the display.
“Sala and Rini, with crew. Spice collectors,” the largest of the sashrans introduced, tapping at their own earbud. Their information began to stream onto Ginna’s display, while her own would be playing in their ear. She was proficient in everything from weapons to mechanics to medicine, xenobiology to politics, and of course survival in any kind of situation from atmosphere decompression in space to a tsunami on a planet. The more varied the knowledge they had the better a companion a human could make, and Ginna prided herself on being one of the best.
As for the sashrans, they’d found a jungle planet with a plant that was delicious to their senses. Cultivation efforts had failed thus far, so the price was high enough to support the risk of hunting for it on its home range. A six-month tour was on offer. It seemed they’d contracted with another professional companion a few times, a man named Drix, and Ginna quickly switched over to the guild’s internal records to see what he had to say of these sashrans and the planet they were harvesting from.
The sashrans themselves would be able to check what Ginna’s former employers had to say about her too.
Drix had enjoyed working with Sala and Rini’s crew, it dripped out of every line of his reports. He’d included good detail about life aboard their ship and the risks of the planet, that Ginna would have to look into closer later to be prepared.
All she needed to know at the moment was that they paid well, the risks were not unacceptably high, and that they treated their human companions well. It sounded like a job for her.
“Sala and Rini and crew, I would take this job,” Ginna told them.
The sashrans shushed and buzzed together, their tones sounding happy to Ginna’s relatively untrained ear, and she hoped she was reading them right. They were such beautiful little creatures, and she’d always enjoyed working for their kind before. They were close enough she could have reached out to touch them, pet their soft velvet fur, but she resisted. Touching them uninvited would be rude.
Finally they turned back to her. “Sala and Rini and crew will, with joy, contract to hire companion Ginna,” the lead one answered.
Contract negotiations went quickly enough, using the standard guild template and modifying it here or there as both parties preferred and agreed upon. Sashrans were easy to haggle with, not like the argumentative akskar. Soon enough Ginna had a contract and three days to prepare her effects for travel.
“It has been a pleasure,” Ginna told the sashrans. “I look forward to being your companion.”
She would have expected them to leave, then, go get their own things ready for launch. Instead the smallest one pushed forward – all wrapped in pale gold velvet fur and their sweet little pink forepaws resting on Ginna’s knee.
“Companion Ginna will now engage in petting for promotion of pack bonding?” they asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Ginna reached out toward the sashran, let them smell her palm, but it seemed this sashran wasn’t shy at all. They immediately pushed their head into her hand. There was nothing in the galaxy so soft as a sashran’s fur. Ginna dug her fingers in around the ruff of the sashran’s neck, gently scratching, and then smoothed the fur all the way down their back.
The sashran made a dreamy-soft pleasure sound, and Ginna mimicked it back. “Oh you sweetheart,” she murmured. Already she could feel that little melting tug in her heart, that protective urge that set some humans on the path to professional companionship.
Come hell or high water, Ginna was going to keep these sashrans safe.
Aw, yes. Look at the adorable scifi! I’m proud to have inspired it.
(I’m so glad you enjoyed it!)
Six months was just about right for a jungle planet tour with a group of sashrans. Ginna loved Sala and Rini and the crew to distraction, and there was still nothing in the galaxy softer than sashran fur, but she was ready to move on. Being regarded as furniture a lot of the time, once they were used to her presence, got tiring after a while. Sala and Rini weren’t looking for a permanent companion, and Ginna wasn’t looking for that either. She’d joined the guild because she wanted to see the universe and meet all the peoples in it, after all.
The spice expedition had been a great success. The sashrans’ hold was full to bursting of dried twigs and leaves, and Ginna had gotten a healthy bonus on top of her already generous pay. There’s only been the one incident with a large angry herbivore who decided the sashrans were infringing too close on its breeding grounds. Still, Ginna had thwacked it in the face with a dead branch and distracted it long enough for the sashrans to make their escape, and only gotten the one cracked rib for her trouble when it tried to run her down.
Ginna hugged and kissed each sashran on the crew one last time. “If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to call,” Ginna told them, wiping a stray tear. Sala and Rini and crew endured this human foible, and were off to sell their goods.
The Gentleman of Fortune was the same as ever, serving interesting foods and drinks from across the galaxy and full of professional companions between tours. Her friend Jon had shipped out with a hunting pack of akskar, but May was finally back from er three-year stint in a lintran colony and they had a lot of catching up to do.
It was great to be back among humans, it really was. Ginna sent some money home and laughed and drank and celebrated with people who had the same base template and urges she did. For about two weeks, it was great. Then Ginna got that itch again and started watching the door of the Gentleman of Fortune, scoping out her options.
Vivid jehes, stolid orhides, hovering mellisugans – none of them felt quite right, and Ginna didn’t approach any of them. Other companions gladly worked up contracts and left for exploration expeditions and disaster relief efforts and new colonies.
Then a big bull barbax pushed into the bar, weight resting on xir heavy knuckles and ducking far far down to fit but still scraping xir cracked and weathered shoulder-spikes on the frame. The barbax swung xir heavy head from side to side, small beady eyes – well protected under a heavy brow – sweeping the space.
Perfect.
Ginna jumped up to stand on top of her chair and screamed as loud as she possibly could. The barbax rocked back, then sprang forward toward her, slamming xir knuckles hard against the floor in pleased approval.
.
Three days later Ginna was shipping out for a nine month tour with a crew of barbax miners. The desert planet they were headed for would be a nice change of pace from the muggy humidity of her last tour, and the barbax being so much bigger and heavier-armored than she was meant she didn’t have to worry about being a body guard on this trip. Much more relaxing.
Barbax liked shiny things, and already they’d bought Ginna a cute cropped jacket with imitation shoulder spikes to match them, and several bracelets and necklaces. It would have been rude not to wear them, and Ginna had to admit she looked good even if it wasn’t her usual style.
The bull barbax, Zab, absently grabbed Ginna by the waist and settled her on xir shoulder. Ginna easily settled in between the big spikes – they made good handholds as she was carried onward to the ship.
“Twisted xeno freak!” some human snarled after Ginna and the barbax crew. “You’re a traitor to human-kind. You make me sick!”
Gina laughed. “Jealous you lack the emotional capacity to cut it as a companion?” she mocked.
The xenophobe’s embarrassed and angry expression was the last thing Ginna saw of the station. Then the ship doors closed behind them, and she turned to face her next adventure with a smile.
Ginna returned to her home base at the Gentleman of Fortune absolutely glittering with platinum and rough citrine.
A fact – For all their strength, a barbax is not fast enough to evade a nest of sand snakes. For all their armor, a sand snake’s teeth can still pierce them.
A human companion, fueled by adrenaline, is more than fast enough to evade. But they might instead dive in between the panicking barbax and destroy the sand snakes attacking them.
Another fact – a sand snake’s venom is deadly to a barbax. Their blood coagulants are destroyed and they bleed out from even such a tiny wound. Their armored hide is too strong for the tourniquet that might save them. A human, bitten by a sand snake, gets off with a painful wound and some bruising.
Ginna tied her bandana around the bleeding wound on her thigh and got to work. Zeb and Gnar and Agi were bitten. The crew, their family, piled around them, drumming against their hides in mourning. They had two hours to live, according to the barbax medic.
Ginna delivered a cure in 30 minutes. Thirty minutes with the clock racing. Thirty minutes far too long, with death creeping up on her friends. She drew a liter of her own blood, repurposed a mining centrifuge to separate it, and filled three big syringes with plasma. Her red blood cells would be toxic, foreign to the barbaxes bodies. She could only hope her plasma was less so.
They might die of it; but they would die if she didn’t try.
Facts – the only place a barbax is tender enough to be injected by even the strongest medical needle is in the vein along their gumline.
– it takes five minutes for blood to circulate all the way through a barbax’s body.
– it takes another minute after that for a sand snake wound to clot, and the blood loss to cease.
The barbax crew trumpeted and pounded their knuckles against the floor with surprised joy. And only then, only when the slow bleeding had finally stopped, did Ginna sit down and cry with relief. She was shaky and dizzy from drawing so much blood, and badly bruised from getting jostled by the panicking barbaxes, and the wound on her own thigh was very painful now that she had nothing else to focus her mind away from it, but she’d done her companion’s duty and saved her friends.
She was fussed over, tended to and praised. She explained what she had done, and was given far more sweets and water than she could possibly consume to replenish herself when she explained that’s what she needed to recover.
Zeb and Gnar and Agi were sick for a week, with the aftereffects of the sand snake poison and purging their bodies of her alien plasma, but they lived. That was the important part.
It turned out that having given a part of herself into the barbax (nevermind that it was just plasma and their bodies purged it afterward) Ginna had done literally what was done symbolically for a barbax crew-bond. She was now crew-bond to the barbax she’d saved, and since Zeb was the senior bull and crew-bond to the entire crew, that meant she was too. She was family – married to the whole lot of them, in essence.
Ginna was not exactly sure how she was going to break that to her moms.
Thankfully the barbax had a laze faire concept of marriage. None of them thought it odd that Ginna planned to leave still at the end of her contract. They would have gladly kept her if she wanted to stay, but she didn’t.
They would have weighed her down with a quarter ton of jewelry, to be decorated the same as one of them, but thankfully Ginna talked them out of it. Her crew were miners by trade, but they were craftspeople by inclination, and they made her beautiful sets from the platinum they were mining that weren’t too heavy for her fragile human limbs. The style was armor-like and spiky and set with beautiful rough citrine that would have been discarded as mining waste otherwise.
Ginna wore it proudly. She spent one last evening drumming with the barbax crew, and then she was back among humans, back at the good old Gentleman of Fortune. Elizabeth was fresh back from the jungles of Shur with a lathan colony, and they had a lot of catching up to do.
Ginna was in no rush to head out again. She took some classes offered through the guild, brushing up on her knowledge base, and pondered her options carefully. She wanted something new, something different.
Late one evening – or maybe it was early morning by that point – a faint high note echoed through the Gentleman of Fortune. There was a collective intake of breath, an uncomfortable quiet, and Ginna looked to where everyone else was looking. A roughly human-sized shimmer was drifting deeper into the bar.
A tintillian. Ginna had never actually met one, she’d only ever heard of the telepathic aliens. They were not strictly corporeal in the same way most contacted species were.
The tintillian chimed again, hopeful, almost plaintive. And no one was answering.
Ginna was singing back the tintillian’s note before she really thought it through. It chimed again, a lower note thankfully or Ginna might not have been able to hit it, and Ginna again mimicked it. As Ginna held the note, it chimed a double note in harmony with her, and drifted closer.
The note Ginna was singing cut off, her heart in her throat, but the tintillian recoiled and drew back before it touched her. Began to drift away.
Metal. Right. They couldn’t abide concentrations of heavy metals and Ginna was encased in platinum. Ginna began ripping all her jewelry off, stacking it in a loose pile on the table. What had possessed her to wear so much of it?
“Help!” Ginna pleaded, turning her other ear toward Elizabeth as she struggled with the earrings. “Liz, please.”
Elizabeth laughed and relented, quick to help her out of all her platinum. Ginna took her boots off too, they had metal eyelets. And her pants had zippers, so they had to go. And her bra had an underwire, so Ginna wrestled that out through her sleeve and finally stepped toward the tintillian in just her shirt and boxers.
No one else was trying to approach the still-chiming tintillian. Telepathy was beyond what most of them were comfortable with. There would be no universal translator for this interaction, it would be direct. Mind to mind.
At least Ginna halfway stripping was far from the weirdest thing that had ever happened in the Gentleman of Fortune.
Ginna sang the note again, and the tintillian harmonized and moved back toward her. It changed as it got closer, until Ginna was almost looking at a mirror – a transparent shining woman. It lifted its hand, and Ginna echoed the motion. Her fingers were shaking, but Ginna cleared her mind and was full of only curiosity and affection when the tintillian merged hands with her. Like a point of golden light.
Suddenly, through it, Ginna was weightless, boundariless, her self wrapped around by the fear and curiosity of the others in the bar. Ginna laughed aloud, that joy echoed, rebounded, and strengthened as the tintillian drifted forward to merge completely.
Ginna’s affections were bare, all the connections she’d made with her contracts exposed, her trainings mulled over, her self weighed and judged and found adequate. The burning curiosity that had made her approach it pushed Ginna to delve into the tintillian in turn. It was all starlight and nebulas, ancient and brand new.
The job on offer was midway between exploration and rescue – a star nursery where an expedition of the tintillian’s mind-mates had disappeared. They had two months to map what they could, and recover the lost mind-mates if possible.
Ginna’s physical and psychological needs would be met, and the terms of her regular contract were seen as acceptable.
The merge faded, and the tintillian winkled out – off back to its vessel to prepare. Ginna dropped back into her own body and sagged into her chair.
“So?” she was asked, people crowding around. She didn’t need the tintillian to practically feel their burning curiosity.
“I got a two-month contract,” Ginna said.
She took a small seated bow for the cheers that echoed through the bar, and accepted the celebratory drinks that were passed her way.
First professional companion to contract with a tintillian. This was definitely going to be one for the history books.
[ THE END ]
I will write no more of these. Thank you! I’ve had a lot of fun in this ‘verse.
If you want to read about Elizabeth, please turn your eyes toward the very cool fill that Chrissy did utilizing the Gentleman of Fortune and companions guild concept. [link]
(if anyone else uses these headcanons please let me know I’d love to read it!)
Tags:
#storytime #aliens #the version on tumble-tales was just part 1 #but I looked at the writer’s blog and there was more #so I’m reblogging the complete version from them instead #long post
- A gentile vampire turns a promising Torah scholar into a vampire. Is the scholar still permitted to study Torah? Are they still under the yoke of the mitzvot? How does vampirism impact observant Jewish practice? Are they still Jewish, or are they apostates? Would it be permissible for the scholar to turn other people into vampires to cure them of terminal illnesses?
- To what degree are Jewish werewolves morally responsible for their actions while under the influence of the full moon? What must they do if they eat treyf in their wolf form?
- If, for some reason, we must leave earth for another inhabitable planet on the other side of the galaxy, what do we do about holidays and observing Shabbat? Would we go by earth time or local time? What if this planet has no moon or more than one moon? How would we face Jerusalem to pray?
- Can aliens convert to Judaism? If so, does it only apply to humanoid aliens like the greys, or would reptilian aliens and ilithids be able to convert too?
- Can sentient machines like the Terminator convert to Judaism? What about Agents from The Matrix?
- Speaking of The Matrix, are we still obligated to obey the mitzvot even if we are literally brains in jars or living in a simulated reality created by computer programs? What happens if we’re freed and whatever basis for our Jewish identity we had is no longer present or certain. Are we still Jews? Do we still have a covenant?
speaking with my minimal scholarly experience but also opening this up for all jews to contribute:
1. i don’t see any reason why such a promising torah scholar shouldn’t be allowed to continue to study torah, but practicing judaism would be difficult: blood of all animals is probably treyf, and blood of humans is definitely treyf, so a jewish vampire would have to break mitzvot on a nearly constant basis to survive. however under pikuach nefesh i feel like were the vampire literally about to die, they could consume human or animal blood. therefore a jewish vampire would have to live in a state of starvation at all times, which would probably have a fascinating impact on his torah study.
2. a shoteh is not held responsible for their actions by human or divine courts. maimonides defines a shoteh as any mentally unstable person – for our purposes, a jewish werewolf in wolf form can probably be seen as under the influence of mental instability, and is not responsible for their actions under the law.
3. this is fascinating because when we face jerusalem in america, we face east – even though, physically speaking, jerusalem is somewhere under us, on the other side of the globe. for this reason i’m inclined to avoid the obvious answer, “face earth”. perhaps it would be possible to face, in general, the stars? going by “earth time” seems logistically impossible, since earth has 24 separate times. i think this will be a separate issue for every planet.
4. we are already a reptilian alien race, this question is moot.
5. if robots cannot convert to judaism i am quitting. more seriously: this seems like a good place for the analogy of the four children: the simple robot asks, “what is all this”, i.e., judaism, and you download information about it into his database; the wicked robot asks, “what does all this mean to you,” i.e., humans, and you reply, “we are doing a human thing; if you were a human, you would not be part of it, either”; the wise robot asks, “can you please explain the laws and customs of judaism to me, fellow sentients” and you do so and allow him to convert if he wishes it; and the robot who does not know enough to ask a question does not pass the turing test, so the point is moot.
6. oh yeah, we’d totally still be jews! it’s like finding out for sure there’s no god – maybe it’s gonna stop some people from practicing judaism, but not most of us.
@jewishrey this is relevant to your interests i believe
In re question #3, we have developed an app that calculates the relative location of Yerushalayim for all zmanim for our residents depending on their location. Occasionally this results in prayer being conducted facing downward or upward. Zmanim are determined by LST (local Saturn time).
Tags:
#Judaism #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #(”we are already a reptilian alien race. this question is moot.”)
id wreak mayhem for a really good scifi where sight was considered as exotic and numinous as telepathy by the protag species
#everybody else uses sonar or long whiskers and that thing with the sensing electrical impulses#meanwhile: humans can ‘see’ which is a thing which is like and yet unlike ordinary perception#it would also only ever come into play in the same frivolous ‘VULCAN STRENGTH’ sort of way as Spock’s extra attributes#for maximum effect vision would be faithfully written as 100% an asspull in the best way
what the fuck dude this is awesome i want this too now
Okay, but what about those deep sea fish that produce light at a wavelength that *only they can see.* Predators that can somehow sense you in a completely undectable and unfathomable manner to you; they might as well be psychic.
YES, EXACTLY–vision is SUCH an asspull?? Sometimes it’s “”dark”“ and we can’t see anything. And also we’re impaired for plot reasons! Sometimes ALIEN WEAPONRY or otherwise-innocuous ship components are ”“too bright”“ and we yell and try to hide, subject to some sort of obscure, tortuous imperative. The rest of the time we can UNERRINGLY tell when anyone is trying to play pranks on us, the names and emotional/physical status of EVERY SINGLE BEING IN THE ROOM (or, when outside civilized warrens, ”“line of sight”“)–and yes, of course, can’t forget about our nigh-mythical fighting arts revolving around insane dodging skills.
And SNIPING. And also, god, fuck–don’t forget about completely arbitrary “”””atmospheric disturbances””” (fog, smoke–the new “ionic interference”) ALSO plottasatically rendering our abilities moot.
Plus, some people have more powerful Vision than others, but some people have a very short effective range of Vision. However, humans have come up with devices that “change the angles of refraction” of the “light” so that the naturally impaired have their skills enhanced–but they can always be knocked off their faces or be broken.
Also some people are terrible at normal Vision work, but have excellent night vision and are skilled at working under adverse conditions.
Oooh, and human art is almost entirely Vision based. Think about non-seeing aliens trying to access the majority of human art!
IM!!! SCREAMING!!! GLASSES. Glasses are SUCH another great Weird Alien Gimmick. God–you get all used to your Human friend and their bizarre abilities, you just start to really trust in and rely on them in tight places and problem-solving a little bit, then you get fucken marooned on a fucken planetoid somewhere and they just in this very small little voice, after you have pulled them from the wreckage and sat down to go over your options, inform you that they’ve lost their glasses.
Oh my god and an episode where we’re up against Evil Humans and our heros turn to their humans like ‘you can see them, right, you can tell when they’re near? you can counter them?’ and our hero is genuinely shaken and worried— they’ve got high-tech military mechanical enhancers, the devices strapped to their heads let them see anywhere, they can operate in near-absolute ‘darkness’, they can operate in near-lethal ‘brightness’, they can see through walls— not doors, not glass, but walls.
Then we have a heroic scene where the crew’s human is the scrappy, desperate underdog for once instead of the cool and collected superbeing. It is super cool. The human and the captain probably mack wildly on one another in medbay after this. Roll credits.
Person 1: I dunno, dude. This ‘light’ stuff sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me. I mean, how do we know it’s even real?
Person 2: Seriously, how can something be a wave and a particle? That doesn’t even make sense.
Mysterious Human: Even if you cannot perceive the light, you can feel its warmth–
Person 1: Oh my god, please shut it with the mystical hoo-hah. You’re insufferable.
Mysterious, somewhat exasperated Human: the ‘light’ enters the sensitive paired apertures in our faces, passing through biological lenses and chambers to stimulate specific nerves we call ‘rods’ and ‘cones’. one set of nerves tells us the volume of light we’re perceiving, while the other estimates the wavelength frequency. the total input creates in our mind a continuous sonarscape of immense complexity, where we can perceive ‘textures’ that are impossible to understand with mere sound or touch. this is why my people’s communication devices are small, flat, silent boards: we ‘read’ the patterns of light they emit as language and ‘watch’ the patterns of light they emit as sonarscapes.
Captain: okay…. sounds fake, but okay…
And they just keep on making up new bullshit rules for how light works, like
Navigator: Warp drive engaged. We are approaching 90% of the Lorentz limit.
Human: What now?
Navigator: Oh, uh, it’s really complex, but lemme try. So, matter can only move so fast through space, right? Like absolutely, nothing can ever ever possibly go faster than like about 3 hundred million meters per second–
Human: Ah yes. The speed of light.
Navigator: …oh for fuck’s sake.
Captain: My god! Time! Has… frozen!
Human: Fuuuuuuuuck.
Captain: What?
Human: Remember how light is a wave and a particle?
Captain: Yes, we mention this every episode.
Human: Yeah, light’s frozen along with everything else. I can’t see shit.
Captain: My god! Our sonar doesn’t work either! The soundwaves— they can’t propagate through this frozen air! We’ll have to use just our whiskers!
Human: Fuuuuuuuuck.
The fanfiction for this show has to be amazing.
“Shh. Don’t try to hide your needs, Captain,” Hue Mann soothed. “My sight has told me all about your traumatic memories of the war.”
“What?” Captain gasped. “But…how…?”
“The light knows all,” explained Hue. “Time slows down at the speed of light. It sees all of the past..and all of the future.”
“And what is it telling you now?” questioned the Captain.
Hue leaned in close. “It tells me, ‘Mate with them now, you lovestruck fool!”
“Damn you, Hue Mann. Damn you and your penetrating ‘eyes.’”
“Oh,” breathed Hue, voice husky and sexual. “That’s not all my eyes can…penetrate.”
Tags:
#story ideas I will never write
Brinens and Things 