When humans went to space, they expected themselves to be one of the more advanced species, only to find that space was already very populated. To less advanced, they were predators, and to more advanced, savages. Space is vast, and eventually some humans were kept as novelties.
Guang was excited to foster a human. After all, it had read about how humans would fight anything, eat anything, and survive anything. And though Guang was not strong, it’s partner, Hai, was, and would keep it safe.
The human arrived disgruntled, but Guang was not perturbed. It had heard of their pack-bonding abilities, and was ready to be patient and gentle. It even made sure to pick one that knew the Universal Interplanetary Language, so they didn’t need to wait for translators to work. Guang moved and spoke slowly; they didn’t need anything to slow the communication process more. It bent down to eye level.
“Hello. My name is Guang, it/its, a light alien. I process slowly, so don’t speak too fast. I am glad that you arrived safely. You are called Fern, she/her, human, correct?”
The human flapped her hands, nervous, or maybe excited.
“Human, correct?” she repeated, then spouted out, “Hai is a powerful space fae that was born on earth but left as its magic grew," she inhaled, obviously making an effort to slow her speech.
Guang blinked. It appreciated her effort, but why was she telling it about its own partner?
The human continued, “this is common for fae. Did you know space fae are understudied due to the fact that they are extremely powerful and hard to approach? It’s theorized their power comes from dark matter.”
“Right,” Guang replied, “well-”
“Light aliens are a species often used for service for the ultra wealthy,” the human interrupted. “They are treated as living lamps due to their ability to produce both bioluminescent and electrical light extremely efficiently, as well as their ability to stay still for long periods of time.”
Humans did like to talk, but Guang was unsure if this is what they usually talked about.
“That’s correct,” it replied. It sat down and held out its hand, which the human grabbed and studied. “I was also on a ship from hatching until Hai approached me and I was given to it as a gift. But it treated me as a being, and I learned to think of myself as a being as well.”
“I’m a being as well,” the human said, dropping Guang’s hand and turning to the door. Guang followed their line of sight to see Hai walking in. It had taken a smaller, humanoid form, as Guang had asked it to.
“Hello Fern,” xi said, speaking xir native tongue.
“Hello Fern,” Fern repeated in the same language, approaching Hai. Xi squinted at her.
“Pardon, do you understand what I am saying?” xi asked. The human didn’t reply. She gazed at Hai’s translucent wings, and xi turned so she could touch them.
“She’s been repeating what I say as well,” Guang explained.
“Call the agency and ask. The human should have been told how to introduce itself.” Hai handed Guang a communicator. The human mumbled something about aerodynamics.
“In the broader universe, convergent evolution meant that wings…” Fern started to explain.
With the human telling bits of information in the background, Guang called the agency. It was referred to a specialist that told it that human neurology varied greatly. The human’s behavior was not worrisome, but it may socialize differently than typical humans. If that’s a problem, it could be returned. Guang assured them it was not a problem.
At the end of the fostering period, Hai and Guang had learned much about their visitor. They learned to avoid certain textures, loud noises, and flashing lights. They learned that the human could tell them about almost any alien they wished. They learned that not every human would fight anything, and definitely wouldn’t eat anything.
“Fern,” Guang’s chest had been feeling tighter and tighter as the day to return her grew closer, “we were wondering if you would like to stay?”
Fern was outside with Hai, tending to the various lower species that she had befriended during her time on xir planet. She didn’t turn toward Guang, but she did repeat its words.
“Like to stay.”
“Right,” Guang agreed, “I don’t want to treat you as a belonging to borrow and return. Being once one myself, and knowing you so well… I want you to stay, but I want it to be your own choice.”
Hai looked up at that, then pulled out a translation device and placed it in Fern's hands. She shook it a little, then turned it on.
"I also want this to be your choice. It is a pleasure to have you here, but I will ensure whatever path you want to pursue is available to you."
Fern watched symbols form on the screen: Hai's tongue changed to UIPL for her benifit.
“Humans have a rich history on their planet," she replied. "They fought each other in countless wars. Some wars were for resources; others were for freedom.”
“I didn’t know that.” Guang was silent for a bit.
“Humans want freedom. It’s in their DNA. I’d like to stay.” Fern smiled, and Guang smiled back. Humans were ferocious, tenacious, and violent, but they were also gentle. Fern was proof of that.
Society if Martha Wells actually talks to nonbinary and other trans people and takes their words to heart and commits herself to doing better and works to make sure any new books she publishes are not only free of transmisia, but actively support nonbinary and other trans people.
Society if, if Martha Wells writes any more Murderbot books, she retroactively fixes a major source of the exorsexism in The Murderbot Diaries by revealing that Murderbot is literally trans and was assigned a different gender and pronouns upon construction, but literally hacked the system to overwrite its gender and pronoun assignments to be "indeterminate" and "it/its" and that, literally as a blatantly observable fact of capitalism that she can and should play off, any employees who did notice just literally did not get paid enough to care enough point it out to any superiors or give a single shit.
Society if Martha Wells introduces more bot and construct character who are binary trans or genderfluid or not literally /just/ agender.
Society if Martha Wells has one of the main reocurring humans characters come out as nonbinary to solidify the fact that literally anyone can be nonbinary and you can figure this out at literally any age or stage of your life, rather than just being something that only robots or aliens can be:
[ID: The meme of the futuristic utopian city, with the trans pride flag overlaid on top of it with stripes of blue, pink, white, pink, and blue. End ID.]
some designs i remastered from a monster boy challenge agessssssssssssssssss ago lolol. i knew What i wanted to do but rly only now does it feel rly realized. ofc progress wont end but the design? nice. finite.
will incorporate into my story at a later point but these guys dont even have Colors lsdfnkj
Humans are Deathworlders, but they can be Friends, too.
Context: the main alien is Feja,ae/aer, an adult 4th gender tuscia (bipedal beings that communicate mainly through frequencies higher than humans do. They have 6 sexes and 4 main societal gender roles)
Feja didn’t get along well with aer crewmates. It was always hard to communicate cross-species, and even harder when most of them were humans and couldn’t hear you. That’s why, when they stopped to pick up a group of even more humans in the Acrux solar system, Feja wasn’t exactly excited.
The humans’ voices were low, loud, rumbles in as they boarded, speaking of things Feja didn’t know about and couldn’t share. But ae had to do aer job, which involved initiating a small group of new humans who would share the same sort of tasks as aer. Not that ae wanted to share tasks with beings who drank poison for fun and kept predators as pets, but aer job was aer job.
“Hello, welcome to the Yenna,” ae paused, allowing a few seconds for the translator to work. It was always so awkward to wait. And sometimes older translators wouldn’t pick up aer voice correctly at all. “My name is Feja, ae/aer, tuscia, and I will be orienting you to your roles and responsibilities. You should have already received a brief. If you have any questions about that, please let me know.”
One of the humans’ mouths let out a few rumbles, followed by Feja’s translator repeating their words to aer, “Are their Uni-10 translators provided? I missed some of what you said.”
Feja smiled and the human’s eyebrows scrunched. From previous experience, ae knew that it was confused, probably not used to tuscia body language. Feja let out a small hiss, but replied, “We don’t provide translators, but if communication is an issue, I can transfer you to a different group.”
A pause, a low rumble, and then, “I think that’d be best. Thanks for being flexible!”
The other humans in Feja’s group had better translators, and ae was able to finish aer initiation protocol with few issues. Slightly exhausted, ae started to walk back to aer room. Why did ae ever sign up for this? Why didn’t ae apply to somewhere where beings could actually converse with aer without a translator? And why, oh why did ae have to work with so many deathworlders?
Turning into a narrow corridor, Feja saw a human, looking at a number on their watch, then the signs next to each door, apparently trying to find a match. Their long white hair was plaited and reached their waist, and they were wearing a blue tunic that contrasted with their tan skin. It was too narrow to slip past, so Feja clacked aer mouth—a sound that ae knew humans could hear—but the human didn’t turn. Instead, they tried to open another door that also didn’t open, evidently not theirs . Feja clacked louder, to no response. As the human tried the next door, ae got rudely close and clacked once more. The human jumped, then turned and waved. Lucky not angrily— humans could take Feja down in a second. They looked down to their watch and started typing something.
Hey! I’m Kell, they/them, human, and new on board the Yenna, but not a traveler. The text was transmitted directly to Feja’s watch, and ae was surprised to see it was in universal language, not a human one that would have needed further translation. I’ve been hired as a tech assistant, so I should get my own room, but my initiation guide didn’t tell me where it was, and I’m having trouble with these numbers. Does the ship use a different language?
Not an uncommon problem for those first on board. Why didn’t their initiator tell them that?
“Most written text on the signs is in the captain’s birth tongue,” Feja explained. Kell tapped their glasses and captions scrolled across their screen as they looked at aer. “It’s Suav, and probably not in your translator’s database. You can add it, or you could use Anglu, which is close enough that it picks up most things.”
Kell nodded and switched their watch to Anglu, then translated a plaque on the wall. Seeing the results, they hit their forehead with their fist, thumb out. Feja startled, neck ruff raised.
“Are you alright?” Ae asked, cocking aer head. Even with how durable humans were, most of them didn’t hit themselves. Faja’s words scrolled across Kell’s glasses, then they laughed.
I’m fine. That was sign language; I was calling myself stupid because I’m about 100 doors and a floor away. They looked up and chuckled.
“Sign language? Like the Ruq’?”
Yeah, though the Ruq’ never evolved ears. Mine just don’t work, I’m what humans call Deaf. I grew up with signs.
“So you sign to your fellow humans?”
Ha! Kell raised a lip—a sign of a negative emotion, though Faja wasn’t sure which one. I wish. I’ve only met a few who know any, and then usually not the same one I use. I text to talk to most beings. That’s why I’m in tech and not navigation.
“But you use the Universal Interplanetary Language, not Human, and that’s quite a feat of learning. Surely you had a choice in your occupation, especially considering how you’re a human…” Feja shifted on aer feet. The human-other ratio on board Yenna was unusually high, but that was because they specialized in human transport. Humans easily got jobs as medics, security, or anything else, especially as almost every intergalaxy ship had at least one. But most beings didn’t want to so much as be near the same fleet with so many of such a volatile species. Humans were known for their adaptability, cunning, and ferocity after all.
When you can’t communicate with most people, you learn to do what makes life easier, and for me that was making sure to limit translation times as much as possible.
Feja winced at aer own thoughts of Kell’s possible violent nature. Ae looked down at aer messages, a wall of one-way texts, and winced again. Ae typed back, that’s my reason for learning UPL, too. Receiving the text, Kell’s eyes widened.
You stopped speaking? My translator can write your words out for me.
Feja smiled. It didn’t seem fair. We can keep a record of what I say, too.
Thanks. Kell blinked and shook their head. That’s not something I even thought of.
I know what it’s like when it’s more work to communicate. The humans tend to avoid me. Faja recalled the human who requested a new group earlier that day.
Me too. Kell had a look on their face that Feja felt often.
I’ll walk you to your room. I can read Suav numbers, at least. What’s yours?
Kell brightened and checked their brief. It should be 470.
Alright, that’d be down this hallway. It’s a relief, Faja thought, that they aren’t pushing me away.
A few steps later, Faja’s watch buzzed. Ae looked down.
Hey Faja, how many languages do you know? Kell looked at them and Faja stared. Human’s colors were usually so dull, but aer eyes were drawn to the vibrant green of Kell’s, a color rarely seen in space. Shaking aer head to focus, ae counted the languages ae knew.
Three fluently, five partially. They’re fun to learn, though it doesn’t mean much when no one on board can hear me.
Kell thought for a second, started typing, paused, then sent their message. They peered at aer from behind their hair.
Language isn’t always about hearing. Have you thought about learning sign language?
It was Faja’s turn to pause. Kell fidgeted with a button on their watch. This human was making an effort to bond… with aer. Even though ae was a different species, and even though ae couldn’t offer any career advancement or connections. Ae closed aer eyes and inhaled. Maybe, just maybe, ae would make their first friend on board. It really wasn’t a question, then, was it? This deathworlder wasn’t so bad.
ae typed aer reply:
I’d love too.
---
Based on a post by @bunnyycat, this is the edited version post-a-good-nights-sleep. Image description in alt.
Humans are Space Oddities: Humanity, Diplomacy, and Disability in Space
Has the translator arrived yet?”
“Yes Ser, she’s sanitizing her clothing and then will go straight to the docking bay.”
“Good, make sure she’s on time. Ser Hai is here in three hours, and we can’t have anything going wrong.” The captain paced up and down the command room of the Yenna. The space fae, Hai, was coming for a diplomatic discussion about setting up a trade route through xir solar system. If this talk didn’t go well, their ship may very well not make it back.
---
Three hours later, exactly on time, the dock bay doors opened with a hiss, and a short humanoid figure with brown skin and wild, weightless locs walked through. So this was Hai. Xir reputation preceded xir, and there was not another being so powerful within 1,000 light years. The captain hurriedly stepped forward, only to fall back as xi bared xir teeth towards them, then spoke in a foreign language.
“Uh,” they looked confusedly at the translator. Though translators would work in Hai’s tongue, xi preferred to hear xir own language, and who were they to deny xir?
“I don’t take kindly to your advances. I brought my beings, and will not have you within two meters of them,” she supplied. Behind Hai, a tall being ducked under the door, glowing faintly—a light alien. Holding to xir robe entered a female human with loose brown hair, wearing human attire: a T-shirt and shorts.
“Greetings Mg. Captain,” said the light alien. Then to Hai, “what a nice ship this is.” Hai smiled warmly, then dropped xir expression as xi turned toward the captain again.
“Guang and Fern will be exploring your ship as we talk.”
“Of course, Ser Hai, they will not be bothered. Now, shall we move to the conference room?”
---
While Hai went to discuss politics, the tall being and human went sightseeing. Guang reached out a hand to brush dust off the top of a parked ship. It preferred to keep things tidy, but few were tall enough to see the dust that it could. When it looked down, Fern was gone.
---
Kell was a human technician aboard the Yenna, a spacecraft specialized in human recreational transport. They knew most of the crew on board, and this one wasn’t one of them. She was obviously distressed, pacing up and down the narrow corridor and wringing her hands.
Kell opened their watch to link their translator to the hers, but no connection appeared. Looking again, she wasn’t wearing any watch. Since Kell was deaf, they only signed. While they could read and write UIPL, it wouldn’t help if the human had nothing to read it on. But the person needed help now, so Kell decided to try ASL.
Hello, I’m K-E-L-L, Kell, they signed slowly. You, they pointed at her, OK? They connected their pointer and thumb in the universal non-ASLsymbol. Or the french chef hand sign among some groups of humans.
She was not facing them head on, but she apparently caught what they said. She started to hit her hands together, one in a thumbs up and one flat in a repeating: Help!
Ok! Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Kell reached out to calm her frantic signing, but she flinched away.
As they drew back, vibrations distracted them; something large was approaching. They braced themselves and turned toward the corner, from which a dim light was gradually growing. The being that appeared was talking. Its words scrolled across Kell’s glasses in a live transcription.
“Fern, thank goodness!” The tension left Guang’s body as it saw her, but she didn’t stop signing help. “It will be ok. This will pass and we will rest and go back home.”
Turning to Kell, it asked, “do you have a room where the lights can be a dim purple? With a speaker for music? I’m her guardian, Guang, it/its, light alien.”
Thankfully, this alien had a watch.
Kell, they/them, human. I don’t speak, so I’ll text. I can take you somewhere, Kell texted back.
“Alright, one moment.” Guang turned to the human, speaking to her in a low voice but never touching her. Then to Kell it said, “let’s go slowly.”
Kell led the tall alien, and it in turn led the human, who held onto its robe. Once safely in the room, Guang adjusted the lighting and thanked Kell for their assistance. It asked for their contact code, which Kell gave. Though they hoped that it was not going to report them for making the human cry. It didn’t seem the type, but Kell hadn’t seen its species before, so couldn’t read its body language. Guang thanked them for their help once more and closed the door.
---
The captain sank into their chair. The talk went fine—no one died, thank god—but afterwards… they lost about ten years of their lifespan in stress.
It started with Hai suddenly standing in the middle of a sentence, eyes looking through the left wall, hands clenched. The gravity in the room doubled with the weight of xir emotion.
“Ser Hai, what may I do for you?” the captain gasped out, glancing between Hai and the wall.
“I’ll be leaving in two hours. Prepare my ship.” Hai swept out of the room, not waiting for an answer.
“Of course, Ser,” they inhaled deeply, able to breath again. They ordered the preparations be made and hurried to the control room to see where Hai had gone and what needed to be done in order to avoid damages.
To their surprise, camera footage showed Hai sitting in a dimly lit room, mouth moving in quiet song. Besides xir sat xir partner, the light alien, and in between them, rocking back and forth, their human. After two hours, her rocking slowed and the trio stood. Hai cloaked them in darkness as they walked back towards the docking bay.
The captain and interpreter were there when Hai arrived. Briefly stepping out of the shadows, Hai addressed them.
“Your request is not granted. We will be keeping our solar system quiet. Travel may pass within five light years of my sun, but any closer and you shall not be seeing that ship again.”
The captain flinched at the electricity that crackled in the air. What was it that bothered Hai so? What happened with the human? Why was Hai sparing them if they did something wrong? They didn’t risk asking, and the fae, light alien, and human left without another word.
---
Working on a panel of wires, Kell clicked their tongue to the rhythm of their music’s vibrations. It was rare to come across another disabled human in space, and even rarer that that human had real support. How lucky Fern was, and how excited Kell was for the invitation that Guang had promised to send to them. A human who they could connect with, and a chance to visit the planet of a space fae? Few could say they’ve had the honor.
---
For your information:
Mg. is short for Mage, and is a gender neutral title for Mister or Miss. Idea courtesy of @apolloendymion (link). Ser is a gender neutral title for Sir or Miss.
As for language, unless otherwise specialized, communication is in the Universal Interplanetary Language (UIPL), the language of trade and international politics.
Hai uses it/its (UIPL) and xi/xir (birth tounge) pronouns. It prefers it's birth tounge and beings often default to what it wants, which is why the captain uses xi/xir pronouns even when speaking UIPL.
