Human Enough As You Are

Human Enough as You Are

What happens when humans start feeling the pressure of living up to their reputation that's spread across the galaxy?

A combination of mental health-related ideas from a few different comments that have been left on here, ao3, and youtube.

***** ***** *****

When Chek found the team’s resident human, he seemed… unwell. She’d seen the human do strange breathing techniques before bed or during infrequent quiet moments at their shared station.

But this was different. She couldn’t exactly say why, but it was very different in a way that she could just feel. The way he was breathing was not comforting. Something was wrong.

“Human Dave? Have… have you been here the whole time?” Chek didn’t add that she and the others had been looking for him for the past 30 mentiks, and had been growing increasingly annoyed and worried as time went on. Something told her that it would be counterintuitive of whatever was going on right now.

Dave, who had been staring at her blankly ever since she’d come around the corner into the kitchen, closed his eyes and nodded silently. Chek knew that was a common affirmative gesture humans used, but her worry only grew. Human Dave normally was a very vocal and upbeat character on the team. His silence didn't’ sit well with her now.

Dave gave her no further information, just sat on the floor, propped up against the wall, breathing in slowly through his nose and then even slower out his mouth. Unsure of what to do, and not wanting to just keep standing awkwardly there in the silence, she eventually sat adjacent to him on the floor. Human Dave kept breathing.

Whatever was going on, Chek realized she wasn’t sure what proper conduct she should follow. What were the rules of etiquette when your team’s human was found hiding alone and on the verge of tears?

But how to do that? Well, Check thought, what better way to help a human than to do it in the most human way possible: jump in head-first and hope for the best.

As inconspicuously as she could, Chek sent a message to the rest of the team to let them know she’d found Dave and would return as soon as they could. She immediately silenced her communicator after that, knowing her team members would want more information. They’d get it in time. Her main priority right now was helping Dave get through… whatever was going on right now.

The way Human Dave stared at her, she almost began wondering how best to back-pedal out of this. She knew humans were typically very prideful of their strength and prowess. Had she over-stepped by insinuating that he was weak and even needed her help?

“I can tell something is wrong, but I don’t know what. Dave, how can I best lend aid to you now?”

Dave inhaled sharply in a way that sounded like it moved a lot of mucus around in his nasal cavity. It wasn’t the most pleasant sound, but Chek didn’t really have much time to think about that because she realized Dave’s eyes were leaking.

“Oh no, are you hurt?” Chek was back on her six legs in an instant. “Are your eyes injured? Is that why you’ve been hiding?!” That would make sense, she thought to herself, if something was wrong with his eyes and he couldn’t see, bunkering down in a safe, defensible position was a smart move. She moved forward to carefully and as comfortingly as she could manage, grab his hand. “I can get you to the med bay. I can guide you there if you need me. Or maybe I should go there and bring… someone who… can…”

“I’m fine, Chek, I’m fine,” Dave finally chuckled, though the grin in his voice was quickly fading again. The grin on his face melted away soon after. “Actually, no. I’m not.”

Chek trailed off as she realized, to her great confusion, that Human Dave was now laughing. Well, not quite laughing. It started small and didn’t grow much, nowhere close to his usual loud and infectious laugh, but there it was something.

“Human Dave?” Chek looked over the human in question, now completely lost. Here she’d been only cycles ago thinking she was finally understanding humans and their quirks. She apparently didn’t know as much as she thought she did.

Chek blinked a few of her eyes in confusion. “Not what?”

Chek stared at him.

Dave swallowed and it looked like his chest visibly tightened. After a short moment, he began breathing deeply again in that strange way she’d found him doing earlier.

It finally dawned on her. His breathing. He’s trying to calm down. But unlike before, he’s not calming down for bed or meditating, he’s trying to calm down from something. But what? She looked around at the kitchen. There was nothing here to scare him. There were no attackers or visible danger. What had him so stressed and riled?

“You’re not what?” Chek inquired, her worry for her teammate leaked into her voice. “Please Dave, help me understand. What’s going on?”

The pattern of Dave’s breathing broke. His deep breaths became more shallow and rapid. It was more like he was trying to choke down air. His exhales were mixed with his voice in desperate cries like he was in pain.

“I’m not… I’m not…”

Chek watched, frozen, as Dave balled up his fist and slammed them on the floor next to him. He choked on his breaths half a moment more until he finally was able to gasp another mouthful and began trying to regulate his deep breathing technique again. Chek said nothing. What could she say? She was completely at a loss.

Finally, Dave was able to speak again, though it was quiet and full of pauses as if he was looking for the right words to say.

“I’m… I… feel like I’m a failure. I’m… I’m not… humans are supposed to be so strong and fearless and smart and great and all. And you… when you guys requested a human you… you probably thought you were… getting a good one… like all the stories. I… I’m trying, but I feel like… you could have gotten any human assigned, but instead… and there are so many who could have been here instead. They’d probably do so much better. Be so much braver. I feel like… I’m lying to everyone just by being here… and that you guys just haven’t realized it yet…”

Dave continued talking for a while more. Chek could only understand bits and phrases here and there after a while, but she let him talk on for as long as he needed. He needed to talk. He needed to feel heard. And she needed to process what she heard.

Dave felt afraid. Not only of some of the dangers they had to face in their jobs on the team but also afraid of his team rejecting him. Or rather, afraid that he wasn’t living up to his team’s ideals of humans and that would lead to them rejecting him. It sounded like it had been eating away at him in his mind for some time.

How had she not seen that? How had no one seen that? Human Dave had joined their team decacycles ago. They’d been so excited to have a human on the team and when Dave showed up, his integration with the team seemed so smooth and fine. Sure there’d been odd moments now and again. He’d freeze momentarily before a task, but that was expected with anyone starting a new role. He was friendly and fun, but there’d be times when it seemed like he was zoning out, or that he was physically there, but his mind was partecs away. There’d likely been numerous things that could have been signs of what was really bothering Dave that no one had noticed. After all, humans were known to be a bit weird now and again, so no one probably shook a whisker when Dave was showing signs that something wasn’t quite right. Everyone assumed he was fine. And Dave was breaking under the pressure of making sure everyone kept assuming that.

It was quiet again in the kitchen. Dave’s eyes were pointed directly at his feet. They were still leaking slowly, but if he wasn’t worried about it, then Chek figured it wasn’t something she needed to get a medic for. Instead, she sat down next to Dave. Even though the human, when standing, was much taller than her, while they were both sitting, they were relatively on the same level.

Dave’s deep breathing was more regular now. More like how it normally was, but still not quite right. She breathed along with him for a while. Human lungs take in much more air than Kreechen lungs, but she did her best to try to match him.

After a moment, she paused and smiled. “I remember the cycle you arrived. We’d all been so excited to have a human on the team.” She looked over at him, but he still had his eyes locked on his feet. She continued.

“We’d all done some research in preparation. We knew humans came in lots of shapes, sizes, styles, and temperaments. We wanted to make a good first impression, so we made a bunch of foods we’d read were popular on Earth.”

Dave, while still not looking up, did appear to have the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. He remembered that day too.

“We tried to get as many ingredients as we could that were safe,” Chek continued, “and looked up as many replacement or alternatives as we could that we thought made sense in the recipes.” The grin on Chek’s face slipped almost comically into an overexaggerated scowl. “Oh my stars, I can’t remember what went wrong, but I do remember the smell. Augh! It took cycles to get rid of it! It was terrible!”

Dave chuckled and shook his head slightly. “It tasted even worse.”

They both chuckled for a moment. It wasn’t at Dave’s normal energetic and vibrant levels, but it was something. Even after they both settled back into silence, Chek could feel that something was different now. Better somehow.

Chek sighed and thought of how to continue. She could tell that her next words would be important and needed to be selected carefully.

“It was such a relief that despite our less than perfect efforts, you seemed to think no less of us. Flarg, you even ate most of that dish!”

Dave interrupted with a sound that was a mix between a hum and a whine. He glanced at Chek then back to his feet, then back again. “Actually,” he began, then stopped. His mouth would open for a moment, but no sound came out. Finally, he sighed and closed his eyes. “If I’m totally honest with you, I only ate like three tiny bites. I threw most of it away when no one was looking.”

Then burst into laughter.

“By the stars!” she nearly howled. Her laughter nearly shook her tiny body, but she couldn’t stop it. From the looks of it, it was spreading a bit to the human at her side who was at first startled, then loosened up enough to laugh along.

“You threw it… you threw it… away!” Chek managed to get out between laughs. “Oh gilded moon plates, that explains so much! Ohhhh, okay. Let me breathe a bit. Wow. Oh, we were all worried we’d sentenced you to the medical ward for your first few cycles with us! Then we figured you’d managed to stomach it because you’re human.” Chek tried to catch her breath as she straightened a few errant hairs.

“Ohhhh, stars, okay. Anyway. As I was saying,” she looked at Dave who this time met and kept her gaze. “We’d been so worried about making a good first impression. We wanted to stand up to all the expectations you probably had of us. We felt terrible when that didn’t go as planned, and apparently, it was worse than we thought…

“But regardless of that, you were so kind. You not only got right to work on the team, you went right ahead with befriending and bonding with us. You shared yourself with us and were genuinely interested in our lives and who each of us were, not just what skills or roles we fulfilled. You were like some kind of glue that we didn’t even know we needed. Before you came, we were a team, but ever since you arrived we’ve been more. We’ve been like a family.”

Chek rested a small hand on Dave’s arm. She knew that physical touch was an important and powerful communication tool for many humans and that Dave was no exception. “This team wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t have you. Whatever you need, we’ve got your back covered, just like you always cover ours.”

Dave said nothing and broke eye contact, but didn’t turn away. Chek waited for him to speak, but after a few moments, it didn’t seem like he was going to just yet.

Chek looked down at her feet. She felt a bit of frustration bubble up in her core. She was certainly no expert in Kreechen mental health, let alone mental health for humans, but for just this one moment, she wished she could call upon all the expertise she needed to know what to help. But she couldn’t, so she’d have to settle with what little she could do and hope it was enough.

“I don’t know what all you’re going through, Dave,” she started, “but you should know that this team loves you. We could have been assigned any number of humans, and who knows how any of them would have fit with us? No idea. But the thing is, you were the one that showed up to eat our terrible attempt at making human food. You’re our human. You, and all the things that, good, bad, or neutral, make you you.”

Chek paused to wait for Dave to respond. But he didn’t. She watched his face. She considered herself pretty adept at reading human facial emotions by now, but she had a hard time pinning down what Dave was feeling. If anything, it looked like several emotions were at war across his features.

Without knowing completely what she was going to say, she opened her mouth.

She barely finished the sentence before she broke into laughter. To her immense relief, Dave laughed too. When Dave’s stomach made a strange growling noise, they both laughed even harder.

“It’s okay to not always be running at your 100% you know. No one on this team is, and no one expects it of you. Whatever you imagine you’re supposed to be, or what you think we expected you to be, it doesn’t matter. Because, well, you’re you instead! You’re our human.” She leaned in with a mock-serious look, “And you better be nice to our human, or well, or else we’re gonna have problems!”

“If I’m understanding that right,” Chek started after she settled down a bit again, “you’re pretty hungry?”

Dave chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, guess so. I… I guess I’ve been so upset lately, I kind of forgot to eat.”

***** ***** *****

Chek “tsk" 'd. Leave it to a human to even have the ability to forget to eat. She looked around the room. “Well, we’re in the kitchen now. Anything you want while we’re here?”

Dave’s eyes scanned the area with a hum. A smile broke across his face slowly. “You know, since you brought up that meal you all made me my first day, I think I’m kind of in the mood for some stroganoff.”

Chek’s face scrunched up slightly. “Is that how that dish is pronounced?” Dave nodded with a smile. Chek got up and walked further into the kitchen with Dave following. “Do we even have ingredients to make it now? I don’t really want a repeat of… last time.”

“Just about.” Dave opened the walk-in cooler where various food supplies for each species on the team were stored in separate compartments. “And the ones we don’t, I know the proper substitutions.”

Chek wasn’t 100% convinced, but at this point, the fact that Dave was up and about and seemed to be doing much better than when she found him, she wasn’t going to stop him now.

While she waited for the human to gather the ingredients he needed, she checked her comm device and saw she’d missed several messages after she’d relayed that she’d found Dave. Everyone wanted to know where he was and what was going on.

“Hey Dave,” Chek looked up as the human in question came out of the cooler with his hands full, “the rest of the team’s been worried about you. I told them I found you and you’re okay, but before I tell them where we are, do you feel up to having company right now?”

Dave paused and considered her for a moment. He opened his mouth and for a moment didn’t say anything, but finally nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I think I’m good now, or I will be.” He set his ingredients on the countertop and took another deep breath. “Besides, cooking really helps me calm down, and” he laughed, sounding more and more like his old cheerful self, “if they come, maybe I can teach everyone how to make stroganoff without having to wear a gas mask by the end!”

Chek sent a response to the rest of the team. Their human was going to be okay, but for now, needed a bit extra love and support. Thankfully, that was something the rest of the team could do much easier than they could cook human food.

Author's Note:

Sometimes feel like what we're doing or who we are isn't enough. This was in some ways therapeutic for me to write because it's something I feel sometimes too. We all have moments like Dave where we need to breathe deeply and slowly and be reminded, or remind ourselves that we are enough. There is no one "right" way to human. There is no one "right" level of energy, effort, or perfection that we need to be at to human.

I love you, you funky and precious human. You're doing great

To whoever is reading this right now and needs to hear this: You are enough. Right now. Take a deep breath and breathe out slowly. Do it as many times as you need and remind yourself that each day is different, and so are you.

Don't forget to be a Chek for yourself when you're being a Dave.

Humans are weird: Diplomatic Negotiations

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“If you had told me I would one day share a table with a Trinx, I would throttle you.”

The Trinx ambassador glared at the Santhan ambassador and tapped several keys into a device strapped to their wrist.

Each ambassador sat on opposite sides of a long table, surrounded by a small retinue of staff either taking notes or following their ambassador’s lead and glaring back.

The Santhan species could best be described, though unfavorably, as hairballs that came with arms and legs. They stood on average of 4ft in height and were known for their sharp tempers. The Trinx in comparison were a species of aquatic squid like creatures that used advanced mobility suits to navigate outside of their natural water environments.

Both species lived relatively close to each other, one system apart from each other’s homeworld, and had developed space travel around the same time. Granted each one claimed to have developed it first, as would they claim to be a victim of the other species unwarranted aggression. The Santhan’s and Trinx quickly discovered each other from their limited space exploration, and the first contact was less than desirable resulting in forty years of conflict and suspicion.

As the Trinx ambassador finally finished entering keys into the device on their suits wrist it projected a robotic voice devoid of any emotion.

“Were you..to tell me…that I would share a table…with a Santhan….I would have…plunged you…to our deepest depths….and watched you….drown.”

Smashing their fist into the table in outrage the Santhan delegation rose to their feet as if to leap across the table and grapple the Trinx when the door to the negotiation room opened. A lone figure calmly stepped through the doorway and took pause to observe the scene before them.

“Had I known there was going to be a brawl I would have brought some popcorn.”

Anthony Finch smiled as the doorway closed behind him and he took his seat at the middle of the table. The Trinx and Santhan parties continued glaring at each other for a moment longer before following suit. Each one eyed the human mediator, each one believing that they would side with them on the coming negotiations.

Though a relatively new species to space travel, humanity had eventually stumbled its way into this corner of the galaxy and initiated talks with both the Trinx and the Santhan’s. Both species saw the chance to win over a new ally to their conflict and after seeing the firepower even a light human exploration vessel carried had thrown themselves wholeheartedly in winning them over. Lavish parties, lucrative trade negotiations, and even offers of nobility had been given to sway the humans; yet they always seemed to reframe from committing to one side.

It wasn’t until it appeared that an all-out war between the two was days away from triggering did the humans finally intervene. They called the two governments to send delegations at this conference in the hope of staving off the conflict.

While initially reluctant, they were each won over by the subtle notions that if the other party sent a delegation they might be considered more favorable to humans. After that it became more of a race to which delegation could arrive first to the conference.

“Before we begin I would like to make a short statement.”

Finch waited for confirmation from the two delegations and then continued.

“Before this moment there was decades of conflict between your two great peoples,” Finch began, “but the results of these talks could have echoes that extend far into the future and may very well shape the destiny of the stars themselves.”

He motioned to both parties. “I congratulate you both for taking the first step.”

“Wells said.” The Santhan ambassador spoke. The Trinx followed not long after with several key strokes to say “Indeed; we are fortunate to have you here.”

With that out of the way all three dove into the matter at hand; staving off a war spanning the stars.

The Trinx’s argued that Santhan mining guilds had repeatedly breached Trinx borders and illegally mined mineral rich asteroids. Countering this claim the Santhan’s pressed the unlicensed use of trade routes by Trinx merchants and declared billions were owed in fees.

Every grievance, every perceived slight, every border skirmish or limited conflict was brought to bear like a raw wound. All the while Finch sat calmly and reviewed his data pad as it auto recorded the entire conversation. Every once and a while Finch would ask a question for clarification or calm a sudden outburst from one or the other delegations; but otherwise he was content to allow each side to fully speak. After both sides had said all that was needed to be said he finally spoke again.

“I believe I know where we can begin.”

Flipping a switch on his data pad and a projection turned on from the center of the table. A series of star charts appeared followed by the outline colors of the two respective empires. “Beginning immediately there will be a demilitarized zone spanning the length of your respective borders.”

A large gash of grey territory cut a swathe along the border regions until it appeared that a wall had magically sprung up in the depths of space.

Whatever the delegations had thought the human would say, this was certainly not it. Their faces were awash with dumbfounded confusion as Finch continued.

“Several stations will be deployed along the length of the dmz to allow trade and diplomatic missions to continue.”

Large dots appeared along the greyed out border marking the locations of the stations. Suspiciously, each station was located along a major travel route between the systems often used by both traders and war fleets.

“The dmz will be maintained by a human fleet that will be stationed here to patrol and keep the peace.”

Icons of human ships appeared inside the grey zone. Their silhouettes running up and down the length of the dmz like a line of marching ants.

“Any intrusion into the dmz will be treated as an act of hostility and will be detained.”

Finch’s last statement was the straw that broke the camel’s back as both delegations erupted.

“How dare you demand we cede territory!”

“Who do you think we are?”  

“We will not be bullied!”

A majority of the feedback was coming from the Santhan’s, but only because many of the Trinx’s were having difficulty typing fast enough to express their anger.

“This….is not…mediation.” The Trinx ambassador said slowly. “This…is…ultimatum!”

Finch held up his hands for calm before continuing.

“What I have learned today is that the current situation is too volatile to be resolved in a single series of meetings.” Finch said. “These measures will deescalate the situation and allow for continued discussions to slowly resolve every issue you have spoken of today.”

“That could take years!” the Santhan ambassador shouted, but Finch nodded in agreement to his surprise.

“Indeed it could, and in the interim you would have years of peace to revitalize your economies knowing that should the other attack you will have our full military support.”

At this both sides went quiet.

“You are…saying,” the Trinx ambassador slowly typed, “that…..you will..take military action?”

Finch nodded. “We all gain here from stability, and any that threaten that peace pose a roadblock to our continued development.”

He clasped his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them. “Are you not both tired of the ceaseless war, the ruined remains of prosperous colonies, the theft of resources and property?”

Though neither openly admitted it, Finch could see that he had struck a chord.

On the surface they bluster and puff out their chests, but underneath all that nationalistic zeal were two people exhausted from years of fighting but too prideful to say they wished to stop. Finch was giving them that chance now.

If they accepted they could go home and tell their people that they had never given up the fight, but had been forced to stop because of the humans superior fleets. They retain their pride, while also enjoying the benefits of peace. Through continued trade and mediation Finch was hopeful that the two sides would gradually have their hatred smoothed down. It would never be completely erased, but for now it was enough just to pull them back from the brink.

Besides, were the two to go to war humanity would lose two valuable trading partners and be left with the chaotic mess of two collapsed governments. The potential risks of more dangerous bodies rising to power was very likely, as was the threat of military units turned raider harassing human territory in search of plunder.

“We…could…”the Trinx slowly began, “work under…these…terms.”

Finch nodded his thanks before looking over at the Santhan. The delegation was in hushed conversation amongst itself before the ambassador finally spoke.

“This would need to be in official writing,” they eyed the Trinx party harshly, “but for the moment we also could operate under these conditions.”

He eyed Finch next. “We would like it to be known that we are not happy with these proceedings however.”

Finch shrugged. “Negotiations rarely end with everyone happy.”

“Haven’t you heard?”, the crew’s Historian purred, delighted on the news. “Humans pull off the skins from their bodies all the time!”

The Engineer trembled around her unusual form, all four of her arms grabbing the table with anxiety. “Pull off their skins?!”, she asked, horrified. “Like the taru when the two suns rise in red?!”

“Oh, didn’t you hear me?”, the other continued. “They do that all the time! When they wake up, when they go to work, when they come back from it. A new skin for every moment!”

The Engineer became smaller, old instincts of alert kicking in. “How can they regenerate their skin so fast?”

“I have no idea!”, the Historian told them, spinning around their chair and drinking a large glass of water. “Must be because of that harsh planet they came from. I heard the ground roars from time to time to wreck everything… It becomes angry. I think it tries to eat the creatures so the planet’s core can keep itself warm”.

“Awful”, the smaller one whispered. “But why do they keep pulling off their skins?!”

“Oh, I think it’s all for show. They don’t have a time for mating, you know? Must be because they are looking for someone to be their partner. Or maybe it’s all shows for strenghts, to prove one is better than the other. These humans didn’t take long to get out of their planets, like us. They are still more of an irrational animal than an intelligent creature…”

“Oh, shut up with these stupid legends”, the crew’s sole human shouted from behind. Both Historian and Engineer jumped from their seats, looking at the Psychiatrist. “And stop watching videos of artists pulling off their makeup! You’re scaring everyone off me, you foolish storyteller! Come here, right now, and I’ll show you what pulling a skin off is like-!”

—

If you want to see more of this, consider buying me a Ko-Fi, commissioning me or just taking a look at my writing!! Thank you, and have a lovely day <3

Humans are weird: Medics

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) Mula didn’t feel the pain at first. He had felt a sharp pinch just above his right leg during the charge across the street but he had ignored it. He had made it about half way across the paved road dodging incoming fire when his entire leg lost all feeling and he tumbled to the ground hard.

Through blurry eyes he saw the rest of his squad continuing to the building opposite the street which had been their target. He saw several of them torn to shreds by plasma fire erupting from nearly every window and yet his squad continued their attack with grim determination.

Mula made to stand and rejoin his comrades in this glorious charge. He made to use his right hand to brace himself and rise once more only to collapse again to the hard ground. Angrily Mula looked at what had stopped him and it was then that it finally dawned on him that his entire right arm up to the third elbow was missing.

He looked at the stump of his arm dumb founded. He could see it was clearly gone, but it felt as if it was still there all the same. Like a dark joke he could even still feel his absent fingers opening and closing despite their remains being scattered several feet away.

More of his brothers were charging across the street around him. They were being cut down like wheat before the scythe and yet they still shouted their battle cries and stormed across their dead.

This was the moment heroes are made.

This was the moment legends were born.

Mula the One Hand, they would call him.

Throughout his entire life Mula had been taught that to die on the battlefield was the greatest honor. His soul would be welcomed into the hallowed halls of Jem Had’a where he would fight eternal with the greatest warriors his people had ever known.

Determined to meet his end with the dignity of a true warrior of the, Mula braced himself on his left arm and made to stand once more. He had nearly risen back to his full height when he felt something grab him from behind and pull him hard.

“Get down you stupid fucker!”

Before Mula knew what was going on he was being dragged backwards. He saw his unresponsive leg limply being dragged before him as he was taken further and further away from the target building. His brothers were still rushing passed him as he was being pulled away as Mula strained his neck turning to see what had grabbed him.

To his surprise it was a human warrior. They wore strange armor adorned with a red cross but carried no weapon. Despite their somewhat frail state they were dragging Mula back to their own lines as the battle raged around them.

While the war had originally been between Mula’s people and the Fentom Alliance it had eventually spilled out into neighboring sectors as the war progressed. Humanity occupied several sectors along the front and had been content to remain neutral in the conflict until Fentom ships began raiding human shipping lanes for supplies. After that humanity sent in several fleets and ground armies to assist Mula’s people bring the conflict to an end.

“Let go of me!” Mula shouted at the human. When they continued to pull Mula away from the battle he began struggling in their grasp. The human became further agitated by this and swatted Mula across the face.

“Hey idiot, if you have a death wish keep me the hell out of it!” they shouted as a rocket exploded nearby showering the pair of them in rubble. The human let go of Mula as a result and he was able to scramble back to his one working foot.

He rejoined the charge across the street, limping on his one good leg and holding his Tatava dagger in his left hand. He made it several steps before he was tackled back to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing!?”

Mula rolled on to his back and saw that it was the same human again.

“Leave me be!” Mula shouted as he tried to dislodge with several sharp kicks. “My destiny awaits me!”

When the kicking did not release them Mula had no other recourse but to swing his Tatava dagger at them. He had judged the distance to not harm them, but close enough to scare them into letting go.

Sure enough as soon as the blade neared the humans face they released him and shuffled backwards. Now free Mula made to stand but was interrupted by the human.

“I hate angry patients.”

Mula looked up just in time to see the human’s fist smashing into their face. The pain sent Mula crumbling back to the ground, his dagger clattering to the ground unceremoniously. The human stood over Mula and he thought that another blow was surely about to fall, but was surprised when instead they began treating his wounds.

“If I try moving you again you’ll bleed out before we make it back.” They said as they started wrapping the stump of what had been his right arm several minutes prior.

“You are keeping me….from my destiny!” Mula said. He had intended to shout it to scare off the human, but found that his voice had become very weak. Now that he had stopped moving he noticed everything about him had become weaker. His muscles struggled to move the way he wanted, his vision was going in and out of focus as he tried to look at the human, even his fingers had started trembling each time he tried to make a fist.

“If it was to die on this shitty dirt ball I have some bad news for you.” Mula saw a half smile flash across the human’s face before a burst of plasma fire flew overhead and she bent over his body to avoid it.

“You would…” Mula began as they returned to fixing his wounds, “dishonor me?”

The human shook their head in frustration as they finished with his arm and moved on to bandaging his leg. Mula noticed his armor had become far more stained with his blood than he had realized when he looked down at it. No doubt that was why he was feeling weaker by the moment.

“If you were truly meant to die this day,” the human said as they aggressively sealed the leg wounds, “do you really think your gods would let one little human stand in the way of a destiny they laid out for you?”

Mula wanted to respond but was struck by the human’s words. In his silence the human finished treating his wounds and waved over another pair of human soldiers.

“You will live to fight another day soldier.”

With those last words Mula felt himself being carried off again as the world started fading to black. The last sight he saw before it consumed him was that of the human who had treated him rushing off to tend to another fallen warrior. ————————–

The history books of Mula’s people would indeed speak of his name and deeds.

They recorded how after the battle he had been taken to an orbital hospital ship that had come with the human fleets. How he had been given new prosthetic limbs and had initially been shunned and mocked for surviving the battle by his fellow warriors.

It also tells how Mula endured all of the humiliation thrust upon him by remembering the last words the human who had saved his life had said to him.

“You will live to fight another day…..”

No longer was Mula seeking out his glorious death on the battlefield. He lived to fight another day, and then another, and another, and another, and so on.

Mula survived over three hundred battles fought over the span of sixty years. He was the one who drove his Tatava dagger into the heart of Overlord Jih inside his own citadel, he would be the first to breach the walls of the crystal city of Hama Zure, and he would be the one single handedly hold the line at the battle of Black Field.

In his life he earned more glory living then he ever could have won by dying in that nameless street so many years ago. His name was spoken of in reverence and his deeds carved into the eternal stone of honor for all to see.

Near the end of his life he wished to thank the human who had saved him all those years ago. So he set out and using what contacts he had acquired, sought out his savior.

His search led him to the fields of honored dead on the human homeworld.

The human who had saved him was called “Kayley Gillevet”, and she had died the very same day that they had met.

From what Mula was able to find out was that Kayley had continued saving those she could during the closing hours of the battle and became separated from the allied forces. She gathered those she could into a housing building and tried her best to stabilize them. The enemy forces thought that they were still active combatants and leveled the building rather than attempting to storm it.

Looking down at this tiny piece of stone with her name carved into it Mula couldn’t help but feel sadness.

Here had been a warrior who had stormed the fields of death not to take life, but to save it; and this was all that left to remember her while his name was taught to his people’s children in schools. Her name carved into a weathered stone barely legible anymore.

He placed his prosthetic hand on Kayley’s stone and spoke softly.

“I did what you asked.” He said as tears began to run down his face. “I lived to fight another day.”

Humans are weird: Adaptability

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The assembly hall at the institute of learning on Praxos III was one of the finest halls in the entire system. Easily able to handle over a thousand beings it was specifically designed to allow anyone up on stage the ability to speak to the very back of the rows without the need for technology to boost their voice. A rather convenient feature as today the hall was packed to capacity.

A dozen hushed conversations mingled together as those gathered waited for the speaker of the day. They had come from across the planet and even as far away as the outer colonies all for a chance to hear the subject that had captivated their entire species.

As the voices continued to rise and fall like the tide of the ocean the lights began to dim and a lone figure stepped on to the stage. The crowd’s conversations died away and were replaced by the thunderous roar of applause that shook the hall.

Upon reaching center stage the speaker raised up their hands for quiet and the applause slowly pattered out until once more the hall was silent.

“My name is Ozma Dalhime,” the speaker began as their voice echoed throughout the entire hall, “and I hold the position of head researcher of alien lifeforms here at the institute.”

Behind Ozma a large screen slowly descended from the ceiling and the lights of the hall went completely dark save for the lone light on the speaker.

“In my time here I have come to find many interesting and seemingly farfetched life forms that have been discovered across the galaxy, but none as fascinating and frustrating as the one we are here to speak about today.”

At this the projector turned on and a large image of a strange creature appeared on the large screen. Several oh’s and ah’s came from the crowd as the image came into full view.

“This,” Ozma said, “is a human.”

The images began cycling through several different pictures of humans. Some were male, some were female, some had long hair, some had short, some were pale as a ghost, and some were as dark as the starry skies. Dozens of different photos went by, each unique and different from those that came before, leaving many to wonder how such a chaotic species could have survived for so long.

“Born in the Milky Way galaxy on a rather hostile planet they have creatively called “Dirt”,” the professor continued to the amused chuckles of the crowd, “they have survived countless generations of strife to now become one of the most recognizable species carving their way through the cosmos.”

Ozma paused for a moment and looked over the audience.

“Can any of you tell me why?”

The crowd was silent save for a few murmurs between groups here and there, but no one spoke up.

“I hope when you came to my lecture you didn’t expect me to do all the talking.” Ozma replied happily as he walked back and forth across the stage. “Come on, why do you think humans have survived for this long?”

Ozma saw a lone hand rise from the third row and motioned for the holder to stand up.

“Because they can breathe fire?” they remarked, drawing a rousing laughter from the crowd.

Ozma gave no sign of similar mocking behavior and simply nodded.

“They certainly can seem that way when you make one angry, as I can attest from first-hand experience.” Ozma said. “Does anyone else have an answer?”

Another hand rose further back in the crowd and again Ozma motioned for them to stand up.

“Because of their barbarity?” the second speaker said, this time drawing hushed tones of agreement from those around them.

“You certainly are closer to the answer.” Ozma said, motioning for the crowd to quiet. “When provoked an individual human can draw upon fits of strength that often will destroy their own body, but in the moment they wouldn’t even notice it until their body collapsed completely like a puppet whose strings have been cut.”

Many of the crowd had heard stories of human soldiers lost in this blood madness on the battlefield and had continued fighting even after a majority of their body was covered in third degree burns, who showed no fear when facing down a hive swarm single handedly with nothing but a crude slug thrower and harsh language, that even could wrestle a Draxic warrior into submission despite being half their size.

“In my many travels there is one quality of humans that has superseded their natural, and at times unnatural, strength and is the corner stone of their very being and the reason they have thrived amongst the stars.”

The crowd leaned in as Ozma stopped himself for dramatic effect, smiling to himself before revealing his answer.

“What makes humans interesting, is their adaptability.”

Whatever the crowd had been expecting this certainly was not it. Through the bright lights Ozma could see a few of the guests in the front row showing faces of disbelief, full of questions they thought they knew the answers too already.

“Across my years of travel I have never come upon a species that was so capable of enduring the rigorous extremes that the universe had to offer.” Ozma began, pacing the stage once more.

“I have seen them create homes for themselves on planets with suns that could melt flesh from bone in minutes, on planets so cold that the liquid of your eyes would flash freeze if exposed for even a moment; even on planets devoid of sunlight and filled with creatures of such horrific nature one would believe they were taken straight from the pages of a children’s book have I found them sitting around camp fires laughing into the night.”

Ozma turned and sat on a waiting stool on the stage to catch his breath. He sipped from a water container under the stool for a moment before setting it back down and continuing.

“When I was in the Gamma Belt I found myself waylaid at a space station waiting for the next shuttle out of the system.” Ozma began, his mind reliving the memories as if it had just been yesterday. “I wandered the hallways for days while I waited and came upon many unsavory characters of questionable intent along the way; safe to say I kept my purse string held close for much of the adventure there.”

“During my third day aboard the station I came across one of the most interesting people I have ever met.”

Ozma couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he recounted that strange man. “Their name was Oliver Reid and he owned a small food kart that was nestled on the lower levels of the station.”

“A scruffy human for sure standing no taller than me and missing a hand and an eye, he served a dish made from fresh Razor fish he kept in a nearby tank and prepared right before your eyes.”

A couple gasps came from the crowd at this. Razor fish were some of the most violent of aquatic life that had been discovered so far. Their spines were covered in long protruding spines so sharp that they could cut through metal when provoked.

“When I first met Oliver I could hardly believe his notion that he could somehow provide a dish out of such a violent creature, which he seemed to take offense to and promptly challenged me to a wager.” Ozma continued. “He said if I liked the meal he prepared that I would pay three times what was asked, and that if I didn’t I could eat it for free.”

“Intrigued by the human’s confidence I agreed to the wager and I bore witness to one of the most extraordinary feats I have ever seen come from the creation of a dish.”

“Without skipping a beat the human pulled out a sharpened wooden fork as long as a forearm and strapped it to his missing limb as he approached the tank holding the razor fish; closing his eye for just a moment and without hesitating stabbed the wooden fork into the pot and skewered a razor fish, killing it instantly.”

As Ozma regaled the crowd with his story they could not help but notice the tinges of excitement dotting the professors voice here and there.

“Here was a creature dubbed one of the most lethal killers of the oceans and a human missing an arm and an eye was able to kill it without even flinching.”

“What was even more impressive was that they were indeed able to create a dish worthy of renown that I gladly paid three times for.” Ozma finished as he saw a hand rise from the crowd.

“What does that have to do with their adaptability?” the guest asked. “Truly it is an impressive feat, but I fail to see how it relates.”

Ozma took in the question before standing back on his feet. “As I was eating the dish I learned that the reason Oliver had lost an eye and a hand was from his previous attempts to prepare the razor fish.”

“The first time he had tried his would be entrée sliced through his hand like it was butter and swiftly ate it before he could recover and reattach the appendage; while he had lost his eye on the thirteenth attempt when a spine punctured his eye after getting too close.”

The crowd collectively gasped in horror, one near the back even vacating the contents of their stomach if Ozma heard right.

“I asked him after finishing my meal why he continued with a practice that had cost him so much,” Ozma said, “and he looked me after rubbing the stump that had once held his missing hand and said “If you give up from making mistakes, then clearly you didn’t learn the right lesson it was teaching you.””

Ozma paused once more for effect now that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. “To say I was astounded by such an inspiring insight and find it in the proverbial armpit of the universe was something of an understatement at the time.”

“He told me that through his trials and mistakes he had learned that the Razor fish was unable to comprehend let alone sense wood leaving itself exposed, and that one of its natural defense mechanisms relied on it looking into it’s would be predators eyes and reading the intent from eye motions.”

“Can you imagine that?” Ozma said. “That through his failures this Oliver had refused to give up and continued to adapt and study his situation to such an extent that he was able to overcome seemingly impossible obstacles as if they were nothing more trifling then crossing the street.”

“In an instant the core of humanity was made clear to me; that when presented with a challenge neigh impossible that rather than retreat from it humans would greet it with a devilish smile and continue to change themselves until the impossible became reality.”

The projector that had died down during Ozma’s speech sprang back to life again and showed a new series of pictures. Human settlements on the frozen moons of Jkin VI, roaming human tribes riding massive desert sliders as they crested the roaming dunes of Hava Prime, and even and most astoundingly of the professor standing next to the one handed one eyed human Oliver smiling together over a razor fish dish.

“Humans have the uncanny ability to adapt themselves to whatever situation they come upon and despite the odds rise above the challenge and claim victory; and that is why I find them the most interesting species to observe in the universe.”

Humans are weird: Social Media

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The door to the apartment opened and Mark looked up from the couch to see Xilth walking in. The mass of his tentacles carrying him across the floor like one of those wobbly dog toys with the dozen arms and Mark couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle. Even though Xilth was an alien he was by far the least strange roommate Mark had ever boarded up with.

“Sup dude,” Mark said as Xilth plopped himself down across from him in his special half circle chair. As the strange alien finally nestled themselves they appeared to shrug.

“Not much.” Xilth replied dryly.

With that short answer in-hand Mark went back to watching the TV as the latest new story began to break. The news cycle played out while Mark watched until roughly ten minutes had passed in silence before Xilth spoke up.

“Could you explain something to me?” they asked.

“Sure thing,” Mark replied straightening himself up and stretching, “whatchya want to know?”

“What is this “Social Media” all of these stories speak of?”

This was the first time his roommate had shown any interest in something human so Mark was initially intrigued.

“It’s best to think of it as a large platform on the internet where people can say and share anything they want with the rest of the internet.”

Mark pulled out his data pad and scrolled through a few digital pages before turning it around to show Xilth.

“See, that famous actor Haven Dullon just posted a video of him and his wife trying out food at an Italian restaurant.”

Xilth leaned forward to look at the picture, and then looked at Mark strangely.

“And how does this benefit the greater whole of your species?”

“Unless you are a Dullon fan it doesn’t,” Mark admitted, “and even if you were a fan of his it doesn’t as much benefit society as it does entertain them.”

Xilth looked confused.

“If the intention of this platform is meant to share information, what use is sharing information that is not relevant, nor beneficial to those who would listen?”

Mark had not planned on a philosophical debate when his roommate had returned, but he was bored and had nothing better to do so he threw himself into the ring.

“Some people use the platform for interactions with people over information.” Mark began. “Often times you are able to speak to them half way around the world that you would normally never see and yet now could share ideas, knowledge, culture, and even new beliefs with the stroke of a few keys.”

Xilth pondered this new information before pressing his next set of questions.

“What ensures that the information shared is valid?”

“The individual user’s capacity for research I suppose.” Mark replied. “Why the sudden interest in social media?”

Xilth reached into pocket of his clothes with one of the many tentacles and withdrew their own data pad.

“I was in your market of supers debating between bananas and lemons when someone began shouting at me.” Xilth said. “They accused me of eating children and that I had no right to be there among the rest of your humans.”

Mark whistled. “That’s pretty fucked up man, sorry you had to deal with that.”

“The thing is,” Xilth continued, “is when I told them that my people do not eat human children this frantic individual pulled out a social media article appearing to validate everything they were saying as truth.”

“Despite my repeated attempts to explain the incorrect nature of this information they continued to shout louder and louder and began demanding I be removed from the store at once.”

Xilth spun their data pad around and Mark saw the article denouncing Xilth’s people.

“I do not understand why someone would spread such falsehoods against people they have never met.”

With that Xilth appeared to shrink into his chair more and Mark could tell that his roommate was upset. He started and stopped himself several times as he tried to find the right words, but nothing he thought of sounded like it would be as comforting as he wanted it to be.

“There’s no one single answer to that question my friend.” Mark said softly, his eyes lazily looking up at the ceiling as he remembers his own difficulties on social media sites. “Sometimes it’s for profit, some time’s it’s to push a political message, and some time’s it’s just people looking for a scapegoat to blame all their problems on and distract themselves from the woes of their own life.”

“The ability to speak on social media and have your words be carried to the potential millions of listeners is something powerful beyond measure, and just like any power it also has the potential to be corrupted.”

Xilth looked even more upset at this. “If such power can be wielded by those who would use it for ill intent, then perhaps it should not even exist at all for them to corrupt.” To Xilth’s surprise Mark nodded in agreement.

“True; denying them a platform to reach the masses certainly would limit the scope of their hate and misinformation, but if we removed the platform we would be denying those who want to use it for good as well.”

Xilth looked up at this and Marked pressed on.

“For every bad article or story or raving lunatic with silly hair, there is someone who is helping to teach others, to be a shoulder to cry on in times of need, to share the joy of laughter from their silly antics, to promote a cause that could save millions and bring light to the people that society forgot were ever there.”

“Though those filled with hate may shout the loudest on social media that does not mean they are the giants they make themselves out to be.”

Mark stood up and went over to his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll find that amongst us humans there will always be idiots spewing hate,” Mark chuckled, “but there are plenty more singing praise and encouragement.”

Xilth smiled back at Mark and felt their mood lighten somewhat.

“Since when were you this inspirational?” Xilth said as Mark returned to his seat.

“Since I took a few puffs and the Shakespeare magnet on the fridge started talking to me.”

Xilth laughed for a moment before realizing what his roommate had said and looked back at his now clearly stoned friend.