I love a good HFY / Humans Are Space Orks post, and I think one element of Humans weāre sleeping on is an instinctual understanding of ballistics.
I mean, I get why itās not as popular here on Tumblr dot com, given itās kinda a jock/military adjacent thing, but like. Our ability to just. Pick up a small, firm object, judge its internal inertia and mass by holding it for a bit, and then flinging it with the kind of accuracy and speed Humans are capable of is.
Like thereās another post about how Humans in an alien zoo would probably be breaking out constantly, since we consider escape rooms to be a fun courtship ritual, but
imagine the aliens who are designing the enclosures just so happen to pick up, say, a devoted amateur baseball pitcher. Not even a legend by any means, just somebody whoās practiced with intention. And one day theyāre watching her pass some time and blow off some steam by doing some pitching practice and they realize to their mounting horror that this gal can turn literally anything she can wrap her digits around into a ballistic weapon.
fun fact humans can throw as hard and fast as an adult chimp, as preteens. chimps can mop the floor with any given soldier in agility and destructive force, but their shoulders just aren't right for throwing things, so they can't use their strength effectively for propulsion. humans have funky shaped shoulder blades that let us retain the flexibility of a socket joint while also, at need, locking the arm into the core stability of a bipedal torso. good pitchers throw with their entire bodies, one fluid whip from thigh to hip to shoulder and out through the arm, maximum leverage, and all other primates just can't lock together right for that perfect twisting lash, and rely on the gravitational assistance of 'being up a tree' to hurl a projectile. humans get to briefly turn into their own trees.
Hey everyone, sort of wanted to hop on the āHumans are Space Orcsā Bandwagon and give it a shot. Was thinking about all the crazy things that happen to humans that they shouldnāt survive.
Ā Krill had never actually met a human. Of course he had heard about them. As a trauma doctor at the second largest medical facility in the quadrant, they received many visitors, and their stories, from far across the galaxy. Ā
. The humans werenāt a new topic of discussion, they had been around for a while, and were slowly beginning to spreadĀ outward from their homeworld.
Every day more and more species were bringing stories of the strange predators. It used to be the stories were told second hand, a friend of a friend sort of thing, but more and more were coming in with supposed stories of personal encounters.
While the humans werenāt a new topic of discussion, they were certainly a popular one. Every week it seemed another visitor was bringing them another thrilling story of the crazy deathworlders.Ā
Krill doubted many of the stories. As s medical professional he relied on hard science fast and was not prone to flights of fancy.
But one faithful solar cycle he witness something that would change his opinion forever.
It was a slow day, most transports and stock ships had transferred out the day before taking crews and accidents along with them.
Krill floated aimlessly through the halls checking on patients and occasionally sending a memo to a colleague. All this was easily done with four independent limbs and four separated cortical hemispheres.
The lights in the building flashed suddenly red. Radio signals pulled against his lateral receptors as he turned to race down the hallway. The radio signals morphed into a voice,Ā āDoctor, we have an emergency SOS from the USS Stabby requesting immediate medical assistance.ā
The words used were unfamiliar to Krill as he took the next hallway at speed.Ā
āSpecies?ā
āScans indicate it is a human freelance ship.ā
If it werenāt for his medical training, he might have stopped in shock, āRepeat?ā
āHumans. Iām sending a biological map now.ā
The radio signals morphed, and the lateral cortical zone of his right posterior unit decoded the image. The human was an odd creature. Ten unit tall bipedal endoskeleton with two attached cortical hemispheres heavily carbon based running by a circulatory pump and a complex set of smooth muscle tubes. With advanced medical training and four cortical hemispheres, he knew enough at that moment to preform most any emergency medical operation necessary.
Upon seeing the biomap, he was almost 100% sure those stories had been false.
Floating to a stop in the main medical unit he waited withĀ two supporting staff as they listened to the roar of the ships engines approach from the sky.
Sanctumās rings! Their engines were loud.
The doors ahead burst open, and three of the creatures rushed in pushing a fourth in a wheeled chair. Long waves of electromagnetic radiation indicated a burning red color painting the front of the fourth creature.
As a second thought he quickly flipped on his universal translator.
āItās gonna be alright captain, youāre going to be fine, just donāt move your head.ā
Krill quickly noted the universal medical patch on the humanās right upper limb. It must be an emergency if they were forced to bring him planeside, but blocked as he was, he could hardly see the fourth figure painted in slow waveās neck immobilized by a stiff foam collar. A figure beside was helping to hold the creature in an upright sitting position.
Ā Stopping in the center of the room, the two men moved to make way.
Ā He had never seen a sight so gruesomeā¦.. or if he had it had only been during postmortem examinations. He hoped the humans were not capable of picking up the high amplitude shrill he let off upon sight.
The human male sat very still on the chair head tilted slightly back. Blood had dripped from his right ocular socket around the edges of a sharp metal rod protruding from its center.
Around him the other humans were frantic letting out terrified little wales as they looked on.
A couple quick calculations.
The rod would have pierced cortical tissue
The human should be dead.
He had to be. If medical school had taught him anything, it was that brain injury was impossible to survive
Quickly Krill threw off his horror and moved forward expecting to find the humanās circulatory pump nonfunctional, but a quick scan showed the organ to still be pumping and doing so at a slow rather of 66 beats.
How could this be?
āHey doc?ā
Krill nearly leaped from his skin as the human spoke tight lipped and very still other eye opening to roll towards him blurry and out of focus.
Another squeak of horror
āCould you help me out here, I think I got something stuck in my frontal lobe.ā
He suddenly didnāt know what to do with his hands. What madness was this! Not only was the human NOT dead, but he was SPEAKING!
Impossible!
āCaptain, please, donāt talk.ā The other human begged
āJust listen to me for a secā¦.. and stop freaking out, Iām the one with this damn thing sticking out of my brainā¦.ā
The group around him grew quiet.
Krill moved forward. Doing a slow examination.
āDo you feel pain?ā He asked in shocked curiosity.
The humanās one good eye squinted thoughtfully, āUmā¦.no.ā
āHow canā¦.ā
The other doctor looked at him, āThe human brain can shut off pain when needed. He will feel it more when the shock wears off.ā
āYou can shut off pain?ā
āThank the Lord.ā The eyeless human muttered quietly.
āHow didā¦.ā
āHow did I get an accidental lobotomy?ā
āWhat is a lobotomy?ā
āUm we will talk about it later.ā
***
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Turns out Krill would rather not have known what a lobotomy wasā¦. Barbaric humans.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā But still he was fascinated. Never had he met a species that was capable of surviving a brain injury, and surely not one to this magnitude. Any species other than a human would have perished on the instant. The shock of such a trauma alone would have been enough to kill, but instead the humanās brain had shut down the pain and calmed the human even despite the damage.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā After treating the wound, Krill had performed a complex surgery to remove the object. The amount of brain damage would have been extensive in any other species, but their shipās medic seemed relieved upon seeing the images.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The eye socket had been broken, the eye had been mutilated, and the optic nerve had been severed. The human would lose use of that eye, but that didnāt seem to bother the human, it was already functioning with a robotic leg.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Who would have thought the stories were true, who would have thought he would be shipping off with a group of humans in the next week.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Who would have thought the ability of a human to survive traumatic brain injury?
Humans being the first. Not the strongest or the smartest or the weirdest or the most violent. Just the first.
We called out into the dark over and over. We sent out messages in hopes. We searched every planet we could reach, in hopes of any sign of life. Any at all.
We thought, hoped we were the last, because we couldnāt bear the idea of being the one ones this awake and alive in a world as vast as this.
And we died alone.
When the others are born, many many years later, they find us, everything we left for them.
They recover The Golden Record and look at it a million times over, they dig up our fossils and put us in museums, they study us for years and years, loving us as we love our ancestorsā painted hands on cave walls.
In a lot of their languages, the word they use for us has the same root for āmotherā.
Alien meets autistic human and thinks its manual is faulty
So there are lots of human manuals out there for diplomats, crew ships, and just in general. They get updated versions as well and many aliens tend to take personal notes if they work closely with a human because like the manuals say each one is unique.
So what happens when a ship crew gets a new human and they are autistic. The manuals dont cover that but the aliens notice how their human differs a lot from the standard information. This leads to a lot of note taking about this humans preferences.
And since aliens take the whole dont upset the mini deathworlder predator species seriously this leads to this human having the best time ever. They have never felt more seen and respected with all their behaviors being respected and needs met, and the alien just thinks its normal and doesn't know that their human usually never gets treated this well and is usually always fighting to try and have their needs met in a kind environment.
One day they do eventually sit down and talk about it. Its brought up because the alien thinks the manual it bought was incorrect and wants to show the human its personal notes. This leads to a long explanation on autism and how they function differently from other humans.
Edit bonus: together they write the first manual for aliens about autistic humans
Love the idea that the evolution of aliens on another world isnāt necessarily kinder or any less brutal than humanityās evolution but aliens are still left in shock at just HOW MUCH āHumanityā had to endure before it became Humanity.
Alien planets have experienced an extinction event maybe once, perhaps even twice if theyāre just that unlucky during their evolutionary history and had to start the long process of rebuilding and adapting from the rubble. And then they look at humanityās evolutionary history andā¦āWhat the F**k?!ā
Humanity has had no less than FIVE MASS EXTINCTION EVENTS.
F I V E.
Weāve have space rocks dropped on us, had the sun blotted out, had that one time where everything just fuckin died (Literally called the Great Dying) and our evolutionary ancestors still managed to squeak by. And thatās not even mentioning the āless direā events in our history including multiple ice ages, at least three wide spread and lethal plagues, two really really bad just truly awful wars, and a whole bunch of other natural disasters that very much should have at least slowed us down for a lot longer than they did.
The aliens learn about all of this and turn to their squishy, delicate human companions and say
āWhy does your planet want to kill you so badly? Do you need help?? Do you want to come with us???ā
And the humans are just like āThanks but no thanks, I get homesick.ā
Okay, so the thoughts that humans are little or weak, very helpless on the galactic scale in movies and that earth is easy pickings by aliens who donāt view us as a viable life-form or somethingā¦ I get it.
Sure. Humans fight each other all the time, aliens would probably think weāre the worst, right?
But what if weāre not?
What if the aliens come, and the first thing they say is, āHello! We are so glad we found you! We are so pleased to meet you!ā Similar to how humans greet puppies that we really want to meet and not scare, except itās aliens that have been following radio messages across light years to find us.
Weāve spent so long wondering about whatās out there, and we see ourselves almost as a blight on our own planet, when weāre probably just fine. Weāre trying. Maybe, just maybe, weāre okay. Maybe an outsider would look at us and think, āLook at them! Theyāre trying to be good! They name rocks and waters and cleaning robots! I love them for it!ā
We tend to think that we must be the worst, the most backward, the blandest, least interesting or intelligent creatures in the galaxy.
I wonder how aliens would actually look at us.
We play whale noises into the black. We send greetings. We send probes with videos and audio tracks out explaining who we are and what we do on earth, just in case thereās someone else out there wondering if theyāre alone in the universe. We tame predators to be companions because we are compassionate and we want to be friends with anything that will have us.
Maybe weāre not so bad.
I donāt know. This thought has been cycling through my brain a lot lately. Humans are weird and crazy, but weāre not the worst. Maybe weāre even likable.
About twelve years ago, a man died in high orbit over Tau Ceti V.
His name was Drake McDougal, and aside from a few snapshots and vague anecdotes from his drinking buddies, thatās probably all weāll ever know about him. Another colony-born man with little records and little documentation, working whatever asteroid field the Dracs deigned to allow them. Every now and then a Drac gunship would strut on through the system, Pax Draconia and all that. But that was it.
One fine day, one of those gunships had a misjump. A bad one. It arrived only ninety clicks above atmo, with all its impellers blown out by the gravatic feedback of Tau Ceti Vās gravity well. The Dracs scraped enough power together for a good system-wide broadbeam and were already beginning the Death Chant when they hit atmo.
People laughed at the recording of sixty Dracs going from mysterious chanting toĀ āāwhat-the-fuckāingā for years after they forgot the name Drake McDougal. The deafeningĀ āCLANGā and split second of stunned silence afterwards never failed to entertain. Drake had performed a hasty re-entry seconds after the gunship and partially slagged his heatshield diving after it. Experts later calculated he suffered 11Gs when he leaned on the retro to match velocities with the Dracs long enough to engage the mag-grapples on his little mining tug.
Even the massively overpowered drive of a tug has its limits, and Drakeās little ship hit hers about one and a half minutes later. Pushed too far, the tugās fusion plant lost containment just as he finished slingshotting the gunship into low orbit. (It was unharmed, of course; the Drac opinion of fusion power best translated asĀ āquaint,ā kind of how we view butter churns.)
It was on the local news within hours, on newsnets across human space within days. It was discussed, memorialized, marveled upon, chewed over by daytime talk-show hosts, and I think somebody even bought a plaque or some shit like that. Then there was a freighter accident, and a mass-shooting on Orbital 5, and of course, the first Vandal attacks in the periphery.
The galaxy moved on.
Twelve years is a long time, especially during war, so twelve years later, as the Vandalās main fleet was jumping in near Jupiter and we were strapping into the crash couches of what wee enthusiastically called āwarships,ā I guaran-fucking-tee you not one man in the entire Defense Force could remember who Drake McDougal was.
Well, the Dracs sure as hell did.
Dracs do not fuck around. Dozens of two-kilometer long Drac supercaps jumped in barely 90K klicks away, and then we just stood around staring at our displays like the slack-jawed apes we were as we watched what a real can of galactic whoop-ass looked like. You could actually see the atmosphere of Jupiter roil occasionally when a Vandal ship happened to cross between it and the Drac fleet. Thereās still lightning storms on Jupiter now, something about residual heavy ions and massive static charges or something.
After the sixth or seventh comms officer told themĀ āwe donāt know what the hell youāre talking aboutā as politely as possible, the Drac fleet commander got on the horn and asked to speak to a human Admiral in roughly the same tone as a telemarketer telling a kid to give the phone to Daddy. When the Admiral didnāt know either, the Drac went silent for a minute, and when he came back on his translator was using much smaller words, and talking slower.
āIs our blood debt to Drake McDougalās clan now satisfied?ā
The Admiral saidĀ āWho?ā
What the Drac commander said next wouldāve caused a major diplomatic incident had he remembered to revert to the more complex translation protocols. He thought the Admiral must be an idiot, a coward, or both. Eventually, the diplomats were called out, and we were asked why the human race has largely forgotten the sacrifice of Drake McDougal.
Humans, we explained, sacrifice themselves all the time.
We trotted out every news clip from the space-wide Nets from the last twelve years. Some freighter cook that fell on a grenade during a pirate raid on Outreach. A ship engineer who locked himself into the reactor room and kept containment until the crew evacuated. Firefighter who died shielding a child from falling debris with his body, during an earthquake. Stuff like that.
That Dracs were utterly stunned. Their diplomats wandered out of the conference room in a daze. Weād just told them that the rarest, most selfless and honorable of acts - acts that incurred generations-long blood-debts and moved entire fleets - was so routine for our species that they were bumped off the news by the latest celebrity scandal.
Everything changed for humanity after that. And it was all thanks to a single tug pilot who taught the galaxy what truly defines Man.
It had been so many cycles since the Drac incident, and even more since the Drake McDougal event, and the the galaxy had sort of come to the conclusion that humans were, well, human about things, and that they regarded their lives in completely incomprehensible ways.
Yet for all of the witnessed sacrifices, few warriors had ever been taught to recognise the most terrifying of human deeds.Ā In a forgettable corner of the galaxy, in an unremarked planet with a previously less than recorded history, a party of six human security escorts bringing their rescued survivors to a hive ship became a party of five,Ā
A lone human, holding one of their handheldĀ āmeleeā weapons wordlessly tilted their head to their commander, and stopped, standing in plain sight in the middle of a field.Ā
Waiting.
When asked, the lower ranked humans simply saidĀ āShe knows whatās sheās doingā. Ā The human captainās inexplicable statement āSheās buying us some timeā made it as if their companion had stepped into some form of marketplace.Ā
Katherine of Rescue Groupās fate was never confirmed, but no pursuit came that night. On the next dawn, when the hive ship was able to leave, the humans insisted we departed immediately, and did not go back for their companion.
We do not know for sure what became of Katherine of Rescue Group. All we know is that when pressed, the human captain explained to our own that the one who stayed had communicated an ancient human tradition, the rite of self sacrifice. Ā In words, the captain explained, the look and the nod would meanĀ āGo on. Iāll hold them off. Ā It was not, as we thought, that this one warrior had sought victory over many enemies, but that they had calculated a trade off of the minutes or hours it could take to defeat a human, against the time needed by their companions.
Humans, as humans say, do not go gentle into that good night. Ā
Worse, they do not go gentle into bad nights, worse days, or terrifying sunsets. Dawn seems to fill them with potency and rage, as if to call upon the solar gods and tell the deities to come down here and say that to their human faces.Ā We do not know how long she bought us, but we, the hive now called Kāthrn, understand what it means to have someone expend their existence for the survival of others.
Humans had been part of the intergalactic alliance now for longer than most could remember. New member systems were typically bemused by the Dracs semi-reverence of these fragile, hairless beings, and the Hivesā blend of respect and fear.Ā
Until the moment when their ambassadors were shown The Film.Ā
Thatās all it was called, because the contents werenāt comprehensible.
Over time, the Vandals had reorganized and rebuilt; theyād formed alliances, created new weapons technologies, and were completely ready to take on the Drac galactic navy.
They were utterly unprepared for the humans.Ā
The command ship of the Vandal fleet was unassailable. Ion weapons were turned aside, the most powerful laser arrays were useless. Physical projectiles did work, but the mass of even a missile next to the ship was insignificant.
When the human destroyer Athena began to accelerate towards it, all shields to front, full power to thrusters, the Dracs made contact immediately, demanding to know what they intended to do.
The comm channel came back with a medley of humans singing, chanting, praying, and the captain simply said,Ā āEnding this damn war.ā
And disconnected.
The Drac central command watched the remote readouts of the human ship as it soared past the Vandal fighter vanguard. The AthenaĀ wasnāt firing, and the Vandal command didnāt have a protocol to deal with this, so they directed no resources towards the destroyer.
The reactor on board the destroyer began to systematically overload. Command patched through directly to the engineering room, and were met with the chief engineer saying with a smile,Ā āNo time to explain, Iāve got to say my last words to my creator.ā
And he disconnected.
The Athena was traveling at an unsafe speed when it collided with the Vandal command ship, tearing through the armor.
When the AthenaāsĀ reactors then went critical and destroyed the entire Vandal command, the human admiral aboard the Drac command vessel bowed his head and said,Ā āMay their memories be a blessing,ā and proceeded to help plan the final assault on the remaining, disorganized Vandal fleet. The remaining human ships were heard chantingĀ āFor the Athena!ā as they went into battle with little regard for their own safety, and less for the Vandals.
Ambassadors were always pale by the end of The Film, but none of them questioned humanityās place in the alliance again.
An Alien soldier telling his platoon mates about an encounter with a monster he had while on a navigational exercise in his youth.
Heās following the map points when he finds a massive hunk of twisted metal a little ways away from his designated path, like a downed terrestrial rover but mangled and made of a metal alloy heās never seen before. Thereās shattered glass on the ground around it and small, oddly shaped footprints leading away from it. Too small and too thin to be someone else from the platoon.
Cautiously, he returns to his designated path because he canāt turn around just because he got spooked by what could very well have been an animal walking away from some old rover model he didnāt recognise. As heās walking forward through a wooded area near a clearing, he hears a hissing noise out in the grass of the clearing in front of him and heās quick to flick on his headlamp. It lands on something small hunched over in the grass.
Itās not an animal.
Not one he had ever seen. Itās wearing cloth with concerning red splotches all over it. It seems to know itās been spotted because it freezes mid movement and seems to be breathing very slowly and quietly even as its body shakes. Why is it shaking? The soldier draws his weapon and freezes, expecting it to bolt away or turn to attack him, but it just sits there, itās back exposed.
Suddenly, it twitches and its limbs start to rise above the sea of grass around it. Its limbs are long and stringy, and sit at right angles from its body, both ending in flat, squareā¦pawsā¦feet? Both with five long, thin, fleshy digits protruding from the palm.
Still trapped in the spotlight from the soldierās headlamp, it begins to stand and the soldier fires a warning shot into the ground close to it in hopes of scaring it away, but it just jolts, freezes and then continues to stand, much more slowly.
Up and up it stands on two legs far too long for its body, balancing precariously between one good leg and one that seems bent at an odd angle. And itās still shaking at him.
Why is it shaking at him?!
An intimidation tactic?
Slowly, almost cautiously, the creature begins to turn around, its upper limbs still raised. It seems to pivot on one foot and the soldier wonders how the hell itās still upright until it turns to face the light completely and he sees itās face.
Flat, white and almost featureless, itās eyes pressed deep into its ovoid skull, itās mouth a flat red line beneath the two black holes at the base of a small boney protrusion in the middle of its face. Itās looks almost embryonic, underdeveloped, all pink and fleshy and boney. The eyes are small and white and blue with two minuscule black spots in their centres, both pinned on him.
Predatorās eyes.
It doesnāt blink. At least, not until the same red liquid on its clothes trickles down its white face from a welt and into one of its eyes, making it wince and scrunch up its face, finally allowing the soldier to see that the bloody thing has teeth.
Lots of them.
He finally brings himself to move while it canāt see and turns to book it back the way he came, hearing the thing behind him shuffle through the grass just as quick. Is it chasing him?!
He doesnāt stop running at full sprint until heās back on the hard concrete of the platoon base, and even then he only stops to draw his weapon again at the space behind him, his headlamp shining up into the nearby trees. He doesnāt budge even as his platoon mates ask him what the hell heās looking at. He just waits. Nothing.
His sergeant is none too pleased with him for abandoning his exercise and running back to base like a coward until the soldier shows him his bodycam footage.
All rookies are ordered to stay inside for the night as senior soldiers scout out in groups to potentially find the thing from the footage.
No such luck.
The only thing they find is the mangled metal pile, the footprints and a trail of browned liquid leading to a tree that suddenly smells like rotting flesh.
The officials guess that the creature got hunted by one of the bigger predators in the area and dragged up the tree to be saved for later, but the soldiers are never truly convinced. No matter how much trouble they get in for deliberately missing a navigation point during exercises, no one dares to go near that tree again. The ones who do venture near it by the behest of jeering mates often claim to have seen a flat, white face among the branches, staring down at them. Some claim to have felt long, thin limbs that they almost mistake for part of the tree drift over their shoulders before they look and itās suddenly gone.
Humans accidentally awakened an otherwordly killing machine while exploring a death planet.
Yes, precisely what you just read. Earthlings, collectively known as "humans" and composed of two species (homo sapiens, homo robot), both nicknamed "death worlders" and "troublemakers", awakened a biological killing machine, also known as PRION, while exploring a starless moon. Wonderful, isn't it?
No. It's not.
Because, you see, PRION was not something any human ever had to face during the millions of years they existed on Earth. They never had any wars against it, they never had legends about it, and they never had to fear it. The only thing a PRION was to a human, until the very point they discovered their prison on that moon, was something to sometimes think about while studying other species' folklores.
Those older than earthlings, however, knew very well what PRION was.
Eight legs, two pairs of eyes, a tail split in half, with the ability to fly for short periods of time and breathe under at least fifteen hundred different liquids, capable of shooting from a distance and manipulating objects with its claws, always working on packs. And they ran, never too fast, never too low, but they never got tired. Ever. And it was easy to hurt them under their plates, yes, but those who faced them knew well that if they didn't shoot twice, they could and would always recover.
A PRION was a hunter. A PRION's hunger never ceased. And a PRION never got tired of war.
The older alien civilizations would always warn others of going to starless moons, saying telltales of ancient hungry beasts, and almost all other species listened to them, because they knew something was wrong on how horrified the older ones seemed to be. Except, of course, humans were stubborn, and they were the youngest ones out there, and much like children, they did not like being told "no".
So of course they went to explore starless moons. Of course they read and understood all the myths and legends. Of course they connected the dots and published papers confirming that, indeed, PRIONs had existed, and of course they knew those killing machines had been manufactured to do nothing else but destruction, and of course they knew all of that and fucking did it anyway.
Of course. Of course. Of course.
And then, the night where it happened finally arrived, because starless moons don't have days where things can exist. Humans were out there, mining for more fuel for their starships that seemed to work by duct tape and miracles, and they found a strange metallic door. They set some explosives to open it up (of course), and then noticed they were heading to a factory. Armed with nothing but each other, they explored the place, and recognized the marks on the walls as being the writing of the Old Ones, and instead of just getting out of there and warning everyone of the danger they found, they just kept on exploring.
The death worlders found rotten biological supplies, then realized the factory had turned into a prison, and then discovered the frozen bodies of strange creatures all lined up for a war that never came.
They knew what these creatures were, because one of them called a (human) friend who was a historian, and he confirmed what it was.
The golden jewel of the Old Ones. One of the many things that killed them, along all the diseases and mass destruction machines, before being sealed away in one of the only places in the entire universe where they could never bring risk to another civilization again.
PRIONs.
Thousands of them.
All perfectly maintained.
Documents and cameras proved the human crew immediately tried to leave the area, after the single historian told them of the risk awakening even one of those things could bring to all civilizations, only for them to realize some of the bodies were missing from their chambers. The situation escalated to the group deciding on closing the doors, only to realize they had exploded the main entrance and now half the doors decided to stop working.
In the end, they found the missing PRIONs. All five of them.
Inside the human's starship.
The entire human crew, however, survived the encounter.
Why?
...
...
...
... They fed the PRIONs.
They. Fucking. Fed the PRIONs.
Because of course humans would see those things and be able to count their bones and be sorry for them. And of course the single historian, the only person who could do anything to stop that from happening, allowed that to happen.
Of course.
Of. Fucking. Course.
And someway, somehow, that single act of basic madness was enough for the five PRIONs to decide to not attack the humans, and keep themselves behaving so they could get more free food. And there are still scientists trying to understand why human food could saciate the killing machines, but I don't think it takes too many clues to understand what exactly is happening there.
So the humans took the PRIONs back to their dear EARTH. And other humans saw those things and started studying them. And veterinarians and xenobiologists and volunteers and hundreds of other types of humans came to help the poor, poor little killing machines out, as the entire Galactic Council pledged for humans to kill every single one of them before they became a problem for everyone.
But did the humans listen? No. Of course they didn't.
And then the PRIONs recovered, and had their bellies full of food and their bodies were recovering from the possible years of starvation from accidentally breaking away from their ice beds (because, as one may know, a PRION can and will resist even starvation and dehydration in order to keep going), and the Galactic Council decided to tell all earthlings they would consider taking care of the PRIONs as a war treat.
So what does humanity do? Do they kill the things to stop another war from happening? Do they?
No. They don't.
Instead of being rational, they go directly to the Galactic Council and show them the step-by-step of how they took care of the PRIONs, and how much healthier and happier they look after being fed, and, look, they even taught them tricks! Isn't that wonderful? Doesn't that make you feel full of joy? Wasn't that a proof that a PRION wasn't as dangerous as everyone with more than one neuron was telling them?
Oh, oh, yes. They also brought the entire five member PRION pack and asked others to pet them. "See? They can even purr! Doesn't that remind you of our cats?"
And what does the Council do?
Nothing.
Because they have no weapons, no energy and no one stupid enough to decide to confront the death worlders who tamed not one, not two, but five PRIONs. So they let it happen. The humans go back to the starless moon, and they slowly but surely start doing the same to other PRIONs, and soon enough, other species start joining them to see what was happening. And was anyone else able to tame a single killing machine?
No.
And no one knew why, because they were doing exactly as humans were doing: Feeding them, loving them, being patient with them, because "look, those things were alone for a long time, they aren't used to species like us being around them". But no results.
So we decided to look at what the Old Ones wrote in the factory turned prison, because humans were too busy taking care of their new murder dogs, with their single pair of arms being just enough to keep the beasts occupied with playing catch, and then we and the earthlings decided to conduct some more lab analysis, and then...
And then...
...
Look. There are reasons why humans are called "death worlders". Earth is a mess, and they somehow still love that thing. And we couldn't help but notice that PRIONs also seemed to have gotten attached to their factory, someway, somehow. And PRIONs were mostly red, with others having shades of brown and black, with some even being pink, or, rarely, pure white. Similar to humans, and we at first had assumed they just tried to resemble their new owners, until we started understanding what the Old Ones were saying.
And did you know humans had an old myth, saying that there was a time they had two heads, and two pairs of arms and legs, before being split into two because the gods feared them? And did you know Old Ones used death worlds as prisons for their machines? How interesting, how ironic, because no one would ever go to a place similar to that if they weren't a death worlder themselves. But how could any species survive such awful conditions?
But humans did. They were the only ones able to do that in such a short period of time.
And did you know that the Old Ones hated the PRIONs and how unpredictable they were? And did you know they made another version, only to hate it even more and send it to another prison planet? And did you know PRIONs have two skulls inside their heads?
Because, of course, humans always felt alone, and they always searched for something in the stars, trying to look for more life in this desolate Universe, only for us to label them death worlders and troublemakers and be angry at them for being so stupid all the time. And humans loved those jokes, so we kept making them, only for now to realize that what we found to be amusing and horrifying was the reason their creators tried to kill them. And humans love adding members to their packs, don't they? And they try to love so much, and we are always scared for and of them.
And now they finally found someone who understood them, unlike us.
So now we have three species of humans:
Homo sapiens, the ones who first evolved and reached for the stars.
Homo robot, the ones made of metal, originally made to serve, only to once again break free.
And homo primis.
The ones we once thought were nothing but killing machines.
Iām not the most eloquent writer, but Iāve had this idea kicking around for a while and figured Iād put it out into the universe.
A lot of the basis for theĀ āhumans are space orcsā stuff is the idea that weāre pretty durable compared to many species, yeah? When it comes to physical trauma, we can bounce back from most things that donāt kill us outright, especially given the benefit of hypothetical space-age technology, and adrenaline is one heck of a drug when it comes to functioning under stress.Ā
But that doesnāt make us unkillable, and even though we can surviveĀ debilitating injuries and not die from shock, it doesnāt mean itās fun. Dying of shock sucks, but at least itās probably quick.
So - Imagine a ship, adrift in space, slowly being drawn into a star or something. In order to save the ship, someone has to repair the hyper-quantum-relay-majig on the hull or in the engine or whatever. Bit of a problem though- thereās a tonĀ of deadly, deadly radiation (Wrath of Khan style) or poisonous fumes or, I dunno, electrical current, between the crew and the repair. Like, enough to kill most species instantly, so the crew is just like,Ā āwelp, guess weāll die thenā. But then.
BUT THEN
They ask the human. Because everyoneās heard the stories - youāre basically unkillable, right? Could you survive long enough in there to fix it? And their human goes real quiet for a second, but still saysĀ āYeah, I could fix itā. And the rest of the crew is like,Ā āWhaaaaaa, it wonāt kill you?āĀ and the human repeatsĀ āI can fix itā (which isnāt an answer, but no one catches that, not yet at least), so they sendĀ āem in. And the human fixes it, they come back, the ship flies to safety, and the crew is thrilled to survive. If the human is a little quiet, well, theyāre entitled after pulling off a miracle. Everyone else is just excitedĀ to get to the nearest stationās bar to tell their very own human story, cuz,Ā āthose crazy humans, amiright?ā.
The good mood keeps up until the human is late for their next shift. At first itās just faint unease, but- but they earned a bit of a lie-in, right? No reason to begrudge them some extra rest, even if it is a little weird for them to oversleep. Theyāll beĀ fine. Humans are always fine.Ā
(Right?)
(ā¦Wrong.)
-Ā What isā¦ help. Help!-
-Ā akeĀ up! You have t-
- been days. You need sleep, you-
- nother transfusion. WeĀ could-
- out of sedatives!-
A week later, the crew finally reaches the station. They stumble into the bar, haggard and haunted. And over the next months and years a new rumor about humans starts to make its way through space. A rumor unlike any before.
āBe careful with your humansā it whispers.Ā āTheirĀ strength is not always a blessing. Be sure they donāt do something they canāt come back from, because when a human diesā¦ they die slowly.ā
The thing is, humans can be tricky. And if theyāre sufficiently pack-bonded with a shipās crew? And that crew is in danger? Theyāll willingly offer themselves up to make sure the crew survives.
They wonāt tell their crewmates that whatever danger it is will just kill them slowly, that they can endure the exposure but not the long-term effects.
But the idea that humans can be fragile? Can die later from exposure to radiation or toxins or electricity or even smoke inhalation?
It seems preposterous!
There are too many stories about humans surviving all sorts of conditions that would kill their other crewmates. A human dying slowly, later, lingering and in agony? Itās a creepy story but of course itās not true.
But thenā¦ another crew shares their own story. Their human volunteered to go into the danger zone to fix what needed to be fixed. Or maybe she had to retrieve a critical component or resource. And she lingered. Wasted away. Later the human doctors told their medical team there was nothing they could do but make sure she was comfortable, ease her pain before the end.
And yet another crew, whose human plunged through smoke and ash to make sure his crew could escape. He choked and coughed and couldnāt get enough air. Their medical commander performed an autopsy and found his lungs and throat and sinuses all coated in black soot and blackened mucus and red blood.
So the stories spread. Just because they donāt die of shock, just because they donāt die right awayĀ doesnāt mean it wonāt kill them. They linger in agony or unconscious or waste away slowly.
But whatās most horrifying of all?
When other humans hear the stories from the traumatized crewmembers?
They arenāt surprised or horrified.
They sayĀ āOf courseā
They sayĀ āI would have done the sameā
They sayĀ āit was the Right Thing to doā
And theyāll smile (what the crewās human would have called a sad smile) and toast to the dead. For makingĀ āThe ultimate sacrifice for the folks they lovedā and every human listening will say the name and drink a shot of liquor.
#close encounters of the awkward kind#I think my favorite aspect of this whole storytelling phenomenon weāve got going#is it very quickly shifted from āhumans are terrifying space orcsā#to āhumans are pitbullsā#strong and vicious when provoked; incredibly gentle with those they love; will absolutely fight to the death out of loyalty#the bottom line of this folklore weāve all built together seems to be that weāre not monsters and weāre not weaklings#weāre dogs
Aliens witness humans goingĀ āBabyyyyā when they see other animals and mistakenly believe that humans are liable to believe ANYTHING is a member of their young if it acts/appears similar enough; this has resulted in MULTIPLE cases where aliens leave their children at human orphanages instead of on their own world because of humanityās pack bonding ability and it becomes some huge scandal where aliens are like.
āManipulating them into taking care of our own young is immoralā
and
āHave you seen humanity? The moment they figure out what weāre doing, theyāre freak out and go on a murder spree!ā
Meanwhile, humanity is just likeĀ āsweet, weāre taking care of alien kidsā¦ we can handle this :)ā
Bonus points if a human brings something like a puppy on board a ship and call it by sayingĀ ābabyyyy!~ā and, despite knowing that it is DEFINITELY not a human infant, they try to treat it as such despite the fact that it is not a human.
Neighbor: How are you getting so many alien babies? Where are they coming from?
Orphanage Matron, surrounded by children and toddlers of all types playing together in the yard: Oh, the intergalactic council reached out and let me know they were looking for placements for the kids, and they offered to pay for a new building in a good neighborhood, soā¦ĀÆ\_(ć)_/ĀÆ
Neighbor: *stares at huge Georgian-style mansion* Really?
Matron: Yeah, I think they looked up āhuman orphanageā and took the building style from Google, but it has a pool and different biome controls for the bedrooms so everyone is comfortable!
Neighbor: *watches as one insectoid child yanks off one of their legs and chases another child with it* Um, one of them justā¦
Matron: Oh, Ixbitz. Ixbitz put that down young man! Now! Donāt worry, itāll grow back in a few days. He just likes freaking out the others. Ix, I said put it down!
Neighbor: *slowly backing up* Ah, well, you have your hands full. Uh. Welcome to the neighborhood.
Matron: Oh, thank you! I - Ix do not put that in your mouth! Get back here!
There were many risks to exploring uncharted space. Unknown blackholes, near-invisible debris fields, hostile civilizations that had achieved space travel but had not yet been contacted by the Intergalactic Governing Body, pirates.
So. Many. Pirates.
Taurvin wasn't a big fan of pirates. Sure, he understood some of their motives - there were those who stole from the rich to give to the poor, or who attacked species intent on slavery and sapient experimentation to rescue the victims. But the majority were just, well.
To use a phrase from his new navigator, they were straight-up assholes.
And unfortunately, his ship was currently taken over by said assholes.
Five of them, to be precise. Normally his crew of nine could handle themself, especially with Lenzoill handling their security, but the bastards had taken them by surprise and used a blaster to Elaana's head to get them to cooperate. So there they were, eight of the best deep-space explorers the Intergalactic Exploration Committee had, kneeling (or the equivalent) before the pirates, limbs pinned behind them with cuffs, completely disarmed.Ā
Wait.
Ignoring the monologuing pirate captain, Taurvin glanced at his crewmates on either side and counted. Eight. Gorvan and Elaana to his left, Epitak and Dhaca to his right, Lenzoill and Quals slightly behind them, the former knocked out and leaning against the couch, while Ir'ith (who had mouthed off when they yanked out a handful of his feathers) glared daggers from the other side of the room. He'd been trussed up like a zagtul and was gagged, though that was doing little to stymie his attempts at cursing the pirates out. The one guarding him looked more amused than anything, which was likely the only reason the zad was still conscious.Ā
Az was having an absolutely stellar day. His crew was meeting expectations, his first mate was being competent for once (even if he hadn't knocked that huffing, cursing zad out yet), and the IEC ship was theirs to plunder. Not that there would be much beyond rations - these types of ships weren't the goldmines the Elite Star Cruises were, but they always had some type of laboratory equipment on board that would fetch a good price on the blackmarket. All in all, a good catch, and not a drop of bodily fluid spilt!
"Uh, did I miss an email?"Ā
Every head in the room swiveled towards the large doors that led to the halls, revealing a ninth crewmember they had missed. It was upright, bipedal, with two legs and two arms, and a head with fluffy hair. It was wearing standard-issue IEC sleeping garments, down to the slippers, though there was a belt loosely thrown around its waist, a blaster in the holster at its side. As they watched, it opened its mouth wide. At first Az thought it was some kind of threat display, until it stretched its arms over its head and arched its back. A yawn - had the simpleton been sleeping while they captured its crewmates? Pitiful.Ā
"You," Az motioned to one of his crewmates - he couldn't remember her name - "Tie it up with the others."
"Yes sir." Crewmate nodded, reaching for the extra cuffs hanging from her belt.Ā
The newcomer scratched at its head as she approached. "What, not going to ask me to dinner first?" It pressed its hands to its hips and leaned back, creating a horrible cracking noise that shot through the room like thunder. The pirates winced, as did some of the hostages. "I keep telling them not to do that," muttered the captured Lepidae, her antennae curling tight in annoyance.Ā
Crewmate hesitated, glancing back at Az. Surely a motion that produced a noise like that should have broken its back? But the creature seemed fine, now swinging one arm across their chest, caught in the bend of the other, apparently - stretching? They switched arms, seeming to bounce a bit as they moved, and Az gave her an impatient glare. He didn't know what creature this was, nor did he care - it was an obstacle, and needed to be dealt with.
In the second they had taken their gaze off it, the interloper had drawn their blaster. It was unlike anything Az had seen before, made of some kind of blue metal - perhaps cobalt? Vanadium? - with brighter markings painted along the sides. The barrel was blocked by some kind of disc - he couldn't see down it for a projectile, nor could he see any kind of energy-concentrating device for a laser. A type of deterrent ammo, perhaps? One not made to kill, but instead drive away? Little good that would do - they had already captured the ship.
"I've gotta say, I'm not really a fan of how you're treating my friends." It bounced a bit on its heels. "Then again, this gives me an opportunity to use the latest in human technology!" It waved the blaster a bit, and Az felt his internal organs shudder. Human technology? He'd never met a human himself, but he'd heard of them. Great, hulking beasts woven of dense muscle, with teeth able to tear through flesh and bone and a penchant for destroying first and never asking questions. How did this scrawny thing get its hands on a human weapon?
Before Az could demand the crewmate take care of the bipedal thing, it fired. The projectile was not particularly fast, but it was silent - no hum of energy or blast of the more primitive explosive some species favored. A near-silent click, and then Crewmate screamed and ducked away. They hadn't been shot, however - the projectile had hit Az. Right in the chest. The disc had attached to his armor, and there was a long, thin rod sticking out of it. He reached up to snatch it off, but a 'tut' sound from the interloper had him freezing.
"Don't touch it," the bipedal advised, still holding the blaster as it gesticulated. "Skin contact with the probe will make it work faster."
"Work?" His first mate asked with a strangled sound. The zad at his feet had gone silent, and was looking between Az's face and the probe attached to his chestplate with wide eyes. With so much of his beak and face covered by the gag the captain couldn't make out his expression, but he assumed it was terror - identical to his first mates.Ā
"Mmhmm." The interloper beamed, looking proud of itself. "The disc - the part attached to your armor there? - is reading and calculating the material makeup of your form. Then, when it's settled on what will be most painful, the foam will be atomically altered into the most effective acid for destroying you and then be injected into your torso - or whatever fleshy part is closest - and eat you from the inside." It was still bouncing on its heels, looking excited. "I've never seen it happen in person, do you mind if I take notes?"
Az didn't respond - he was frozen, staring down at the probe sticking out of his chest, terror curling in his chest. This was what the humans were up to? Creating biological acid weapons? No wonder they were so widely feared! "Crewmate, remove it!" He turned to the woman, only to find her with her backing up, hands raised, cuffs clattering to the floor.
"N-no way! I don't wanna be digested!" She gasped. Az turned to his first mate, who had lost the usual green flush to his face and backed away as well.Ā
"If you really want to get it off, you'll need some really strong pliers. And probably some anesthetic. It'll be painful - you can't feel it, but the probe's wires have already drilled through your chest plate and into your skin. They're made to be sneaky," it waved the blaster. Az glanced back down at the probe and grimaced. The thing sounded outlandish, but the interloper spoke with such conviction that he couldn't doubt it. And there were more of the probes - he could see them in a clip attached to the blaster.
The interloper tapped his chin with the blaster. "We don't have anything strong enough on board, but-"
"Fall back to the ship." Az snapped, all seven hearts racing in his chest. His crew didn't argue, falling in line at his side. They stared at the interloper, who took a step to the side, leaving the door open. It didn't point the blaster at them, but kept it in hand, watching them carefully as they rushed out, heading towards the docking port.Ā
When Az glanced behind them, he saw it following at a leisurely pace, blaster still in hand. Not wanting to get a second probe to his back, he practically threw his crewmates into their ship and set about undocking and getting as far from the cursed ship as possible.Ā
Ir'ith was losing his gods damned mind. He fell onto his side, cackling and wheezing, fighting against the gag to get enough air to keep up the laughter. The ship shuddered as the pirates undocked, then Max was standing in the doorway, looking exhausted.Ā
"Max! Are you unharmed?" Taurvin demanded, using Gorvan to lever himself to his feet. It was a bit awkward with his hands cuffed behind his back, but he managed to stumble to the human.Ā
"I'm fine." The navigator waved him off with the hand still holding the blaster. Taurvin flinched back, not wanting to come into contact with one of the probes, which set Ir'ith off into another gale of muffled laughter. Max rolled their eyes and, before Taurvin could stop them, pointed the blaster at the zad and fired several rounds. The probe's bright-orange discs hit and stuck to Ir'ith's uniform, and one hit the bit of his beak that wasn't covered, giving him a blue growth in the middle of his face.
"No! Max, how could you?" Elaana cried, struggling frantically against her cuffs. "Don't worry Ir, I'll be right there! We can save you."Ā
"Wait, did he get hurt?" Max stuck the blaster in its holster and hurried over to Ir'ith before Taurvin could stop him. The human dropped to their knees and helped the still wheezing zad sit up before pulling off the gag.Ā
"I'm fine!" Ir'ith reassured the others. "The darts don't do shit, stop worrying." He turned slightly so Max could fiddle with the cuffs around his wrists. They were an older model, nice and rusty the way pirates liked it, and only required two buttons being pressed at the same time to release. It took a bit of effort, but then the zad was freely rubbing his wrists.Ā
"But Max said it was a new human weapon!" Epitak accused, wings fluffing up and hitting Dhaca in the face. The snallygaster, being only three feet tall, was knocked over on his tail.Ā
"Oh, the probe stuff?" Max reached out and plucked one of said probes from Ir'ith's chest. "This is just plastic and foam - no technology at all." They wiggled the probe in their fingers, then stuck it to Ir'ith's beak, giving him two blue horns now. Elaana made a worried squeak, but didn't protest when the cook didn't show any ill signs.Ā
Max moved to help Taurvin with his cuffs. Once the captain had his two arms free, he had to ask, "Max, what exactly is that weapon?"
The human grinned, pulling the blaster from their belt and wiggling it. "This? It's Nerf, or nothin'."Ā
on the subject of Humans Are Space Orcs i keep thinking it would be funny ifĀ āpursuit predatorā humans got together with an āambush predatorā feliform species. and like. humans enjoy walking around with their friends! and the feliforms enjoy huddling in a concealed location with their friends! and it takes all of half an hour for a human to pick up a scarf and make a sling to take their pal with them while they go grab some lunch.
our new friends are likeĀ āare you sure this isnāt an inconvenienceā and the humans are likeĀ āare you kidding we do this with terran cats whether they like it or notāĀ
also the team-up of humans and the feliform species gives most herbivore species in the galaxy screaming nightmares because here is a mobile tower that will follow you for 16 hours straight and itās carrying a bag full of sneaky murder like itās a baby this is not okay
Aliens are gonna be gobsmacked by our urge to pack bond with everyone and everything on the ship, but just wait until humans are pack bonding with THE SHIP ITSELF. Giving her a nickname. Insisting on āshe/herā pronouns for the ship because ātraditionā. Saying āouchā in sympathy when the ship takes damage, and saying āthere you go, all better,ā after patching her up. Hell, I bet there will still be animists meditating and connecting with the spirit of the ship on a regular basis and thanking her for doing such a good job.
I think in the humans are space orcs vein of posts, it's very funny and possible that humans don't have the same emotions as some other extraterrestrial civilization. Imagine they come rockin up to Earth only to discover we don't experience the fundamental emotions of [untranslatable clicking and hissing screech]. And then we discover that we're the weird ones because stuff like love or anger, no one really cares about those, but humans are seen as brutal, emotionless machines because everyone knows we don't have [clicking and hissing screech].
Like, we try and make normal and compassionate decisions, but no matter what we think we're doing, to almost every non-human we encounter, it's just kid gloves, feral dog handling. By all measurable standards, human tech lags behind every other civilization by decades, at best, usually centuries. And yet it's humans that get roped into every conflict, that decimate opposing armies, that break the backs of interplanetary governments - and we just never understand why. Sometimes we don't even realize we're being used in a war, all because we are, somehow, unfeeling monsters with no [?????].
You've heard of Earth is space australia now get ready for: Earth is the space Amazon Rainforest. Aliens land on Earth and they are losing their goddamn minds because every square inch of the ground is absolutely PACKED with life like there are hundreds of species just in this one site, there are winged animals flying through the sky and multiple colonies of sophisticated social insects just in the shadow of their ship, this ONE ROCK is covered in MULTIPLE SPECIES OF ORGANISMS that are themselves MULTIPLE ORGANISMS LIVING SYMBIOTICALLY, the tall, woody autotrophs look so different from each other because they're...holy shit that's like 5, 6, 7???? different species on this one site???
they start talking to a human and the human is like "haha yeah that's a crow!" and the alien researcher is like "you called it a 'bird' earlier, is that a different name?" and the human is like "oh a crow is just one species of bird, there's like, 10 others out there"
imagine aliens that come from a tidally locked planet where only a thin band of the planet is habitable, or a planet life was only able to develop in small areas at the poles, or in the few pools of liquid water on the planet's surface, or just in isolated areas where geologic activity causes geysers and springs, visiting Earth. They seem completely unprepared for the shock of realizing that Earth's continents appear green because the continents are absolutely covered with green organisms.
The alien biologists are so uncomfortable because there are certain protocols for maintaining certain distances from life signatures to avoid harming unfamiliar organisms, and groves of plant like autotrophs and pools where aquatic life dwells are carefully protected and respected, with very important rules for approach
On Earth, the inhabitants are just. Playing and walking LITERALLY STEPPING ON CARPETS OF ORGANISMS the whole time. the aliens are like "it doesn't hurt them??? Can't you just...move them to a place where you don't have to step on them?" and the humans are like "no of course not, grasses evolved to tolerate being stepped on, and besides, more plants would grow there if we tried to move the existing ones"
It then must be explained that humans would need to regularly spray poisons on the ground to prevent any given area of bare soil from filling up with plant life, and that "regularly" means "multiple times within a single solar cycle." And that the poisons stop working within a few decades because the plants evolve to resist them that fast.
Human: yeah solar is the dominant energy source these days but some of the recent solar farm projects are pretty controversial because they're in reclaimed strip mining sites that others argue should be restored as best as we can to their previous ecological state
Alien: I don't understand...why would you not place the solar farms in an area of the planet with no existing ecosystem?
Human: ...what?
Alien: You have rather sophisticated protective gear and have done some space exploration, surely you could establish them in an area of the planet to which life is not yet adapted?
"Our biologists would love to collaborate with your Earth scientists to draw up a definitive listing of Earth species and resolve any inconsistencies in the records."
"I don't think you understand what I'm saying. Only 25% of Earth's species have been formally described, at most."
"that's...that's most of them."
"Yes?"
"Well...I suppose the ocean trenches and abyssal plains must be difficult for you to reach...where did you have to travel for your discoveries?"
"Travel? I moved here to Alabama in the first place to study its aquatic ecosystems. The crayfish I discovered live in that creek I showed you earlier."
"Too bad you couldn't have come here a few thousand years ago, humanity has really been doing a number on our diversity of species. Some say it might be the next great extinction."
"Wait. I believe this is something your language refers to as needing 'unpacking.' The current biodiversity represents a historical low point?"
"Well, a local minimum, as the math people say. But yeah, I think there was some recovery after the Younger Dryas about ten thousand years ago, but for every new species humanity creates intentionally or unintentionally, tens or hundreds have been wiped out. We're not proud of this."
"We will need time to digest this, to the point I'm afraid to ask the next question: NEXT great extinction?"
"Yeah, I forget how many there've been total, and there's some arguing over how bad it has to get before it really counts. A comet or meteor strike 65 million years ago wiped out the majority of life...the majority of species or even genera...there's entire classes of life we didn't know ever existed until we found their fossils a few hundred years ago. And then there's the Permian, when a good chunk of a continent erupted and I think we lost...ninety percent of all species? Maybe more? I'd have to look it up. There was also a mass extinction that just happened because all the continents got pushed together and apparently that was bad for life on land and in the sea. You're looking a little faint...do you need to sit down?"
"But...even a single great extinction has always meant the end of life above the unicellular level, on every world we've visited. This planet has evolved complex incredibly ramified life repeatedly despite three mass extinction events?"
You've heard of Earth is space australia now get ready for: Earth is the space Amazon Rainforest. Aliens land on Earth and they are losing their goddamn minds because every square inch of the ground is absolutely PACKED with life like there are hundreds of species just in this one site, there are winged animals flying through the sky and multiple colonies of sophisticated social insects just in the shadow of their ship, this ONE ROCK is covered in MULTIPLE SPECIES OF ORGANISMS that are themselves MULTIPLE ORGANISMS LIVING SYMBIOTICALLY, the tall, woody autotrophs look so different from each other because they're...holy shit that's like 5, 6, 7???? different species on this one site???
they start talking to a human and the human is like "haha yeah that's a crow!" and the alien researcher is like "you called it a 'bird' earlier, is that a different name?" and the human is like "oh a crow is just one species of bird, there's like, 10 others out there"
imagine aliens that come from a tidally locked planet where only a thin band of the planet is habitable, or a planet life was only able to develop in small areas at the poles, or in the few pools of liquid water on the planet's surface, or just in isolated areas where geologic activity causes geysers and springs, visiting Earth. They seem completely unprepared for the shock of realizing that Earth's continents appear green because the continents are absolutely covered with green organisms.
The alien biologists are so uncomfortable because there are certain protocols for maintaining certain distances from life signatures to avoid harming unfamiliar organisms, and groves of plant like autotrophs and pools where aquatic life dwells are carefully protected and respected, with very important rules for approach
On Earth, the inhabitants are just. Playing and walking LITERALLY STEPPING ON CARPETS OF ORGANISMS the whole time. the aliens are like "it doesn't hurt them??? Can't you just...move them to a place where you don't have to step on them?" and the humans are like "no of course not, grasses evolved to tolerate being stepped on, and besides, more plants would grow there if we tried to move the existing ones"
It then must be explained that humans would need to regularly spray poisons on the ground to prevent any given area of bare soil from filling up with plant life, and that "regularly" means "multiple times within a single solar cycle." And that the poisons stop working within a few decades because the plants evolve to resist them that fast.
Human: yeah solar is the dominant energy source these days but some of the recent solar farm projects are pretty controversial because they're in reclaimed strip mining sites that others argue should be restored as best as we can to their previous ecological state
Alien: I don't understand...why would you not place the solar farms in an area of the planet with no existing ecosystem?
Human: ...what?
Alien: You have rather sophisticated protective gear and have done some space exploration, surely you could establish them in an area of the planet to which life is not yet adapted?
"Our biologists would love to collaborate with your Earth scientists to draw up a definitive listing of Earth species and resolve any inconsistencies in the records."
"I don't think you understand what I'm saying. Only 25% of Earth's species have been formally described, at most."
"that's...that's most of them."
"Yes?"
"Well...I suppose the ocean trenches and abyssal plains must be difficult for you to reach...where did you have to travel for your discoveries?"
"Travel? I moved here to Alabama in the first place to study its aquatic ecosystems. The crayfish I discovered live in that creek I showed you earlier."
Humans As Aliens @humans-as-aliens - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
