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Humans. Just. Humans.

Polished Malachite Stalactite - Copper Crescent, Congo

in the past, we’d convinced ourselves that our technologies were just reflections of those who made them. we were wrong. (x)

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Humans Are Feral

Alright, this my first post, and possibly a part one in a series of humans are feral story arcs. As well as being something that I constantly think about and wonder why no one talks about it. Maybe I just haven’t found the specific post.

Have we ever talked about how vicious humans can be? Especially in scenarios where something we care about it threatened? And I mean “bared teeth and snarling” type vicious. Beast mode activated. I’m talking about how we basically turn into animals in certain situations and rely solely on primal instinct.

Take mothers/fathers for example. You ever see a parent react to a situation in which their child was dancing with death? They will risk life and limb for that kid. My dad dove into a pool full speed after my two year old sister fell in the deep end. Clothes and all. Have you ever seen a woman after just giving birth and her mind is just straight hormones? And something happens that she perceives a threat? Someone picks up the newborn without consent, she jumps out of bed after a fucking cesarian to snatch the kid and full on snarl at them? Friend’s aunt did that shit. And don’t get me started on the super strength thing humans can do when someone is in danger and adrenaline kicks in. Then there are the people who will protect some random ass kid. A toddler or small kid with no parent around and suddenly something dangerous is about to happen? People will jump in parent or not.

~~~~~~

Imagine:

It was a quiet day in the streets of Kuratz. The market paths usually bustling with people of races only had a small stream of customers bouncing from stall to stall. Tourists or natives of all sorts. Ky’lio, a young Avalanghar, watched from his mia’s stall, long ears swiveling this way and that to pick up on what conversations he could understand.

Then they caught his eye. The strangers you’d never see in such a place. Humans. What looked like a family unit. Ky’lio couldn’t help but lean forward to stare. He recognized the tallest as a male and the slightly shorter one a female, as he had watched some interactions between his mia and her human customers. But those humans were always soldiers or neighboring colonists. These humans were different.

There was a third party. Ky’lio had never seen a human child except for the few pictures shared from other humans. It was notoriously well-known that humans were extremely protective of their younglings, so few were seen away from human colonies. So the small, bouncing creature Ky’lio watched tug on the adult humans’ paws didn’t register as a baby human until he really stared and saw the round features.

It kept trying to dart away from its parents, but the adults held vice-like grips onto the little one’s paws. Until the stopped at a stall, Hadi Midas’s stall selling sweet fruits from the Dolor Jungles. The male let the little human go and the female took hold of the little one’s free paw. But the wild thing tugged and cried out, like a prisoner chained to a wall. It wailed and cried out in its native tongue, no doubt begging for release from its mia’s iron laws. The scene reminded Ky’lio of when he saw Kaloway serpent at a traveling exotic zoo. It too thrashed and screeched in its chains the same way the little human was. Then the female leaned down and whispered something to the child, making it go limp in her paws, hanging like a dead thing. The female only snorted and turned back towards her mate, who was speaking with Hadi Midas.

What happened next would always remain burned into Ky’lio’s memory. The little human twisted strangely and suddenly they yanked themselves from their Mia’s grip. It screeched triumphantly and dashed away. The female yelled and ran after it, but it was no use. The little human was fast and determined. As it ran down the street it neared the alleyway next to the Damik stall. Ky’lio felt the fur along his spine stand up. The alleyway was a known ambush site for younglings separated from their parents. A human child would be a great prize.

As the human youngling ran past the alleyway, a giant Oyiadin stepped out and grabbed the skinny, hairless arm. The little human screamed, a sound that had every fear feeling surging through Ky’lio’s body. Others in the street turned and stared, but none dared do anything. Oyiadins had a reputation for smuggling and trafficking, their muscular stature, claws and jaws full of sharp fangs scared away any possible help. It wasn’t the first time Ky’lio witnessed a kidnapping and helplessly watched as the kidnapped youngling’s parents shrieked in despair and fear, never daring to fight such beasts. So they would lose their child.

But these were humans. And humans were known for strange, impossible feats. That fact still did not prepare the young Avalanghar to witness the female human slam into the giant Oyiadin, tackling the muscular biped to the ground. The male human swooped in and snatched the small human, now crying and clinging to its parent. The female stood atop the giant, snarling like a wild fangher. Her lips were pulled back to reveal small, white teeth that were nowhere near as intimidating as the Oyiadin’s, yet the expression was somehow more fearsome. She growled something in her native tongue, standing menacingly over the Oyiadin that hadn’t tried to stand up. It’s ugly face was strangely empty of menace, it’s six eyes wide and staring at the human it easily dwarfed. Yet the female held no fear, spitting and snarling, her body tensed for a fight. But the Oyiadin offered no challenge. She spat something in her language once more, then turned and walked to her mate and youngling.

“That is why you must not provoke humans.” Ky’lio jumped, turning to see his mia behind him and watching everything. She looked down at him. “They are dangerous and unpredictable. Especially when they’re protective.” She looked up to watch the trio of humans pass by. “Never underestimate their willingness to fight for their own.”

~~~~~~

Kids are one thing. Then there are pets. I have personally felt the willingness to kill if anyone threatened my dog or cat. That pack bonding stuff is no joke. No, I don’t care if you hear me call my cat a fat, no-rent-paying bastard, he’s my fat no-rent-paying bastard. And I won’t just die for him. I will kill you and cut you up in pieces and summon satan to dine with me on them for that fat bastard.

~~~~~~

Imagine:

Galar was a puvarra, and deserved xis comeuppance. But the crew never expected for their human crew mate to be the one to do it.

Oakley was a good crew mate and most of the team had high opinions of him. He did his work, turned in reports on time, socialized and was overall very kind. The crew was grateful that the human was one that presented the better side of his species. However some were not fond of humans. Galar, the Yunagi from the helix system 1-4b, was one of this opinion. Xe was unabashedly cruel to many on the crew, and only got away with it because xe often blackmailed xis victims to not report to the captain. It was irritating how xe knew certain things. But xe’d finally gone too far.

Oakley had a pet aboard the ship. The creature humans called a cat, a furry thing on four legs that was a master at contortion. While the crew had been hesitant about the creature at first, hearing stories about Terran animals, many grew to like it. Oakley’s cat was named Jambo, a black and white pattern on its fur and a long, skinny tail. It would rub against their legs or jump upon counters to watch them at work. Sometimes it would doze off near them. Only Oakley and Jabari, Oakley’s partner in work, had been selected as thrones for the creature to doze upon. Many on the crew came to feel honored when the creature would approach them and rub its cheek against an outstretched appendage, a sign Oakley had explained to be affection and a demand for “pets.” Jambo got many pets.

Then one day, as the crew drew together in the dining area for a meal, Galar chose his hill to die on. Jambo had approached the tables, padding towards Oakley, but stopping as some crew began making chirping and clicking sounds, trying to intice Jambo toward them for pets. Then Galar walked by, the blue finned Yunagi’s eyes landing on Jambo. And before any could do anything, xe pulled back a long leg and kicked the black and white cat. Jambo let out a loud screech.

Then Galar was flying back and Oakley was screaming in his native language. He wailed on Galar, his fist connecting every time. At one point he tried to choke xim. Several crew jumped upon them, pulling the human way from the Yunagi, but the damage was done. Purple bruises were already evident upon the Yunagi’s blue-green hide, scratches and crescent shaped marks on xis neck were leaking dark blue blood. Nothing serious, but enough to rattle everyone.

Oakley didn’t bother staying to explain to the captain. He immediately left to find his cat, as did some of the others. Many could care less if Galar was injured, because the stupid puvarra deserved it. They worried for Jambo. The cat was later found and inspected. Luckily for Jambo, he had some light bruising. Very lucky. Oakley even cried, the clear wetness on his face a strange sight for many.

When asked by the captain why he attacked Galar, Oakley point-blank said it was because he kicked Jambo. And anyone who dared hurt his cat was going to get hurt themselves. He said it so casually the captain blinked several times. While humans were known for their protectiveness of packmates, this aggression was unexpected. They went on to scold Oakley and told him that they would have to write this on his personal report for future jobs. Oakley only nodded, still unswayed. The captain sighed and dismissed him. They knew they probably should have done more for such heinous action. But unbeknownst to others, the captain was also fond of Jambo. They were the only other person Jambo chose to nap on.

~~~~~~

This was written really fast, so I apologize if the writing is a little scrunched and there are mistakes. It physically hurt to write about a cat getting kicked, I wanted to vomit. Ugh. I wanted to go off on a tangent about humans taking on giant beasts for their kids because wouldn’t we? I personally don’t like kids, but I admit that I’d fight a bear for that one-year old that smiled at me in a Walmart checkout line, then offered me her animal cracker. I mean, wtf. I’ll save that for the next post tho.

Among the many stories of the Vul’nak war, few truly stand out to me. A war of senseless violence and endless bloodshed, that ended in nobody gaining much of anything.

An escort ship, the Lightning Bolt, happened to be out on patrol when the Vul’nak mothership was chased into their sector of space.

The mothership was the most terrifying ship in the entire fleet, with enough weapons to glass an entire continent in an hour. She was fast too, fast enough to avoid the fleet pursuing her.

The orders from high command went out to every ship in the sector: locate the mothership at any cost, slow her down until reinforcements arrive.

The captain of the Bolt knew that there was no time to waste, and aims his ship directly towards the last known system the Mothership was seen in.

12 hours. It took the crew of the Bolt 12 hours to succeed where an entire fleet had failed, they had found the mothership.

The crew of the Bolt faced an important decision. Keep their distance and risk losing their foe again, or risk their lives and pray that reinforcements arrive.

To the crew there was no choice, the Mothership must not be allowed to continue any further.

The captain send a single broadcast, then orders the crew to engage with all weapons. Only one ship was allowed to leave.

For over an hour, the Bolt held its own against the Mothership. Outgunned, outmanned, outclassed, but still alive. Striking their hull whenever possible while dodging deadly laser strikes, like an interstellar game of cat and mouse.

When the Fleet finally arrived, they were greeted with a transmission from the Bolt, the same transmission that had been playing on loop since they had first engaged the Mothership.

A message that would eventually strike fear into the hearts of enemies, and rally courage in allies. A single sentence that meant so much more than simple words could convey.

“I AM A HUMAN!”

Specification is Important

Something seems fishy about the omelets the crew made for Human Steve and Human James

.  .  .

“Human Steve! Human James! We wanted to share in your culture on this very important day of Cheese Appreciation, so we made you both an omelet for breakfast!”

Both humans paused in the doorway of the mess hall, blinking at their crewmates. It took a moment for the words to register in their tired brains. Steve’s brain clicked first and he grinned brightly. James said a pleased thank you a second later.

(Steve was always a little faster walking up in the morning, he said it was because he drank coffee, which was obviously the superior beverage, James said it was because of his stupid American energy, and that good tea should be savored in the morning- they had yet to come to any form of agreement)

“I’d love to try it!” Steve said, walking over to the table.

“How did you guys find ingredients for omelets?” James asked as he followed Steve.

“It was not too difficult, the last port had all we needed.”

“The most difficult part was figuring out what recipe to use.”

“There were so many!”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, people have wildly different tastes.”

The men sat down and looked at their plates. The omelets looked a little different. Maybe they didn’t use a yoke? Or it was some weird powdered egg stuff?

James decided to let Steve take the first bite. He was more discerning than Steve when it came to food. Steve called him picky. James called him a garbage disposal.

Steve took a bite and immediately regretted it. He forced himself to chew and swallow. James was silently laughing at him, he just knew it. He hoped the others couldn’t read the tension in his body language.

“Wow! That certainly was creative! What, um, what did you put in it?”

The crew brightened and they started speaking over each other.

“Onions!”

“Munster cheese!”

“Bell peppers.”

“Cheddar cheese.”

“Black pepper.”

Salmon eggs.”

“Mushrooms!”

“Salt.”

Steve’s mind blanked at salmon eggs. James was shaking. He just knew the Brit was trying not to laugh, the bastard.

“Salmon… eggs?”

“Only the best for our human crew!”

“The recipe said eggs, so we researched earth eggs-”

“- and discovered that caviar is a delicacy-”

“-and got salmon eggs because they make the best caviar!”

The four looked very pleased with themselves and the care they had given to researching earth cuisine. Steve smiled weakly. James’ face was getting red. One of the more observant members picked up that something was wrong.

“Is there a problem with the omelets?”

Steve began to sweat. He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to make them feel bad. “Omelets are usually made with… chicken eggs.”

“Chickens?”

“But those creatures are filthy!”

James lost it, howling with laughter. Steve kicked his chair out from under him. James wheezed as he hit the floor, but kept cackling. Steve ignored him.

“Yeah, chickens. Um, I guess none of the recipes specified that?”

The heartbroken looks were answer enough. Steve felt really bad.

“Its okay though! I promise! We’ll still eat the eggs!”

James stopped laughing. Steve smirked.

(both of them ate all their omelet, though the crew couldn’t figure out why Human James was so grumpy at Human Steve for the next week)

.  .  .

AN: This was inspired by a tumblr post about people trying to make concrete the way Romans did, but it didn’t work, because the Romans used sea water, not fresh water, but all the Romans knew ‘water’ meant ‘sea water’ and never bothered to specify. Someone else pointed out that all our recipes say ‘egg’ and not ‘chicken egg’ and someone else said in the future people crying while eating scrambled fish eggs. Thus, this story was born.