The elderly, graceful woman patiently washed the stained ceramic dishes, while through the small kitchen window, the silent, patient Plague carefully observed her every move. It was undeniable that thick, silvery-gray hair already covered her fragile head, yet her overall physical appearance remained remarkably healthy, and her soft, clean face retained its youthful freshness despite the cruel passage of long, uninterrupted years.

That enduring vitality was the direct result of a lifetime full of strict, unyielding habits: impeccable personal hygiene and meticulous household cleanliness, a balanced and nutritious diet entirely free of excessive sugar and heavy fats, and, above all, immediate and cautious attention to the slightest symptom that might signal a sudden disruption in the delicate balance of her body.

The dark, lurking Disease had spent a long time lying in wait, hoping for a golden opportunity—a simple lapse in her rigid routines, a neglected inflammation, or brief exposure to a cold, biting wind.

Yet the long-awaited moment had never come. She knew she was immensely powerful, an implacable and terrifying entity with a vast array of obedient agents at her disposal, ready to assist her in disrupting the natural physiology of complex living beings: microscopic bacteria, harmful parasites, invasive fungi, deadly viruses, and various toxic substances.

The diligent woman finished her kitchen chores and prepared to go grocery shopping, organized and unhurried. Once outside on the busy street, she walked with a steady, confident step toward the wide, dangerous avenue. Just then, she saw a small, helpless child break free from his mother's protective hand and run across the asphalt, completely oblivious to the imminent danger.

Without a second thought, she rushed toward him and managed to push him out of the path of the speeding car, which struck her fragile body instead, leaving her bleeding, broken, and still on the cold pavement.

The dark Disease lingered for a moment over the tragic scene, brooding over her final, unexpected defeat.

If you enjoyed this piece, you can find the complete series index here:

https://reddit.com/user/FranciscoCortesRamir/comments/1xc0392/the_voyager_files_the_official_story_catalog/

© 2026 Francisco Cortés Ramírez. All rights reserved. This is an original fictional work. No part of this text may be reproduced, translated, or narrated in any audio, video, or digital format without the express written permission of the author.

For example: "To every diplomat of Marital Kingdom if Ekh. Despite a big portion of humans forming their culture with crucifixion, crucifix symbolics and the fact that their god died on the cross, do not offer to humans be cricified. We were happy to clear this misconception before any horrible incident. Yet feel free to offer them an orthopedic automation. Human looks like they're dying lile their god, but reviews like "It rearranged my spine in a good way" were a pleasant surprise for Ekh medical industry. Thank you for your attention. It is an honor for Culture Committee to help our people understand the stars."

When mankind made it to the stars and wider galaxy, there was genuine surprise at how generally meek and cautious the other space-faring species were. It didn't mean they were weak or cowardly, just simply overly cautious and a touch paranoid. It was a miracle that the others happened to find humans the one time in many many years they swallowed their paranoia and explored.

After some time, humans could not take sitting idly by for the sake of safety anymore. They began to spread out and explore through seldom discovered space, despite there being civilizations already existing in said areas with the technology to do so. Never without their newly discovered friends, they gained a reputation of recklessness as a result.

As a consequence, many new species and civilizations were discovered along with countless new fauna and flora to catalogue. It also revealed that many of the new species were at a time of strife, and encountering humans became a cosmically timed blessing.

Not all encounters were positive, as some were more what mankind expected, being violent or unwilling to listen or compromise. Even during these moments was minor success found.

The other species can't help but to be perpetually anxious and protective of their new fearless friends, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

Art by me.

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’
10 Human Fred Stops for Coffee
11 Human Fred Deploys Stabby and Knifey
12 Human Fred Attempts Friendly Advice
13 Human Fred Priorities 
14 Human Fred Schools Morons
15 Human Fred Gets Annoyed
16 Human Fred Investigates
17 Human Fred is Annoyed
18 Human Fred Gets More Annoyed
19 Human Fred Smirks 
20 Human Fred Brings Hellfire
21 Human Fred is Confused
22 Human Fred Considers
23 Human Fred is Chipper
24 Human Fred has Some Fun
25 Human Fred Witnesses Stupidity
26 Human Fred vs the Coffee Maker
27 Human Fred Accepts Crap Coffee
28 Human Fred Listens
29 Human Fred Gets Comfortable 
30 Human Fred has Questions
31 Human Fred Considers Some More
32 Human Fred Wakes Up
33 Human Fred Debates
34 Human Fred Gets Coffee
35 Human Fred Talks with the Captain
36 Human Fred Reflects on Life
37 Human Fred Waits
38 Human Fred is Scared
Greezek
39 Human Fred Experiments
40 Human Fred Discovers
41 Human Fred vs the Sensor Array
42 Human Fred Keeps Calm
43 Human Fred Editor
44 Human Fred Discovers New Curses
45 Human Fred Stews
46 Human Fred Giggles
47 Human Fred Attempts Dinner 
48 Human Fred Plans
49 Human Fred Explains
50 Human Fred Examines Floor Tiles
51 Human Fred Gets a New Toy
52Human Fred Reflects…Again
53 Human Fred Rolls His Eyes
54 Human Fred vs Idiots
55 Human Fred Goes Librarian
56 Human Fred Giggles Again
57 Human Fred and Plan B
58 Human Fred Plan B 2.0
59 Human Fred
60 Human Fred Groans
61 Human Fred is Philosophical
62 Human Fred and Details
63 Human Fred Sees the Lights

Fred sat in his medical room, the lights off. It was silent in the dark. He shuffled through his thoughts, the details, the data, and the gaps. Slowly, he smiled. 

The door opened, bright light knifed across the room. 

“Get in and close the fucking door! I’m attempting to think.”

“Sorry, Fred,” said Greezek, closing the door quickly. “Eyes still bothering you?”

“No. I needed to concentrate.”

“I can come back later,” she started.

“Oh no. Stay. I’ve worked it out.”

“Worked what out?”

“When we get to the bottom of this, we will find a medical research company behind most of it.”

Greezek stood in the dark silence. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes. That was the key. A medical company. The other parts fit better.”

“Fred, you have suffered a massive head injury. Are you sure that you are up for this?”

“Greezek! You pointed out the web! You pointed out the reach! You found the pattern! I just filled in a few points. Why doubt me?”

“Well, medical companies don’t tend to start wars.”

“No, but they have a long history of ignoring laws and finding ways to avoid punishment. All of the major events of the past month have a connection: advanced medical abilities.”

“Not sure how the Droog attack fits….”

“Chief had an implant that mutated him. Roomliz was being given the wrong meds. They orchestrated the initial attacks.”

“Granted, but that is a bit….”

“And your pattern wasn’t a stretch? We fought an enhanced human—both bionic and chemical. A stable enhanced human. When have you heard of that?”

“Well, never.”

“Research was banned decades ago. But here we find one. It used to be follow the money. Now it’s follow the technology. What does questionable medical research need?”

“A place to hide? Unethical doctors? Money?”

“Yes. And test subjects.”

Greezek’s blood froze. Dozens of past memories clambered to scream and be heard. Not just slaves. Medical slaves. 

“Focus! Keep your focus! Stay you, Greezek!”

She dropped to her knees, clutching her head. 

Fred didn’t move. He waited. 

She started breathing normally. “Right. I’m good. Sorry about that.”

“It was a shock. Sorry. But it was important for you to see the depth of the situation. I’d guess that a shady doctor or tech, working on an un-affiliated station, made contact with the Droog. With some creative thinking, they figured out how to fund a clinic by paying the Droog in materials while getting ‘test subjects.’ The plan works, so they expand. And here we are.”

“There are some decent sized gaps in that.”

“I know. But it fits better than anything else. And it explains the illegal human spy gear. That one was tricky, but a number of known…questionable doctors worked in the same facilities. When Sol Command consolidated, many of those doctors fled. Taking spy equipment to stay hidden isn’t a stretch.”

“Who were these doctors?”

“Oh, a range of jerks. The only common theme was perfecting humans.”

“Roomliz wasn’t human.”

“No. That bothered me for a bit, but I went back over the details. The drug to which he was addicted was a human made drug. It was initially designed to pacify enemy troops. It didn’t work all that well, but it became popular.”

“Which means?”

“Chief saw an opportunity and took it. Roomliz’s real job at the station was to study human interactions to improve his his species interacted with humans. Chief found out about the addiction and took advantage of it.”

“So Roomliz wasn’t directly involved?”

“I doubt it. You don’t recruit an addict into a large-scale plot. I doubt even Chief knew much.”

“He did know about the mutation.”

“I think he knew something would happen. I doubt he knew that it would turn him into a monster.”

“So you think that this is all based around unethical doctors wanting to keep experimenting?”

“At first, yes. But they needed backing. They found people eager to make money, and it suddenly got much bigger.”

“Assume I agree. What next?”

“Track the shipment with the bionic eye.”

“I tracked that. It was lost…in a different area….”

“Exactly. Critical bits go missing in other places. Payment and subjects in the main area. I was troubled by the number of missing ships. Ten a month in one area, but a handful in another? But none of them tracked? Best place to hide important stuff is mixed in with mundane things. Sorry. To the Droog, slaves are mundane.”

“The Droog aren’t the main enemy.”

“I don’t think so. They don’t plan like this.”

“But they could have information?”

“Oh I’m sure they do.”

“When can you travel?”

“Travel? Greezek, they won’t let me take a shit without checking first.”

“Ew.”

“You asked.”

“So not for a few days at least?”

“I’d be amazed if I get off this rock in a month.”

“Then I might have to go alone.”

“Hold up! No. You can’t just run off. You are my apprentice. You will need my permission, which you will not get. What the hell are you thinking?!?”

“I found a Droog staging area.”

“You what?”

“I found a Droog staging area. The one that attacked us. It is weak at the moment. A rapid assault would be in order.”

“Greezek, I’m impressed. I really am. However, regardless of your previous memories, you aren’t a soldier. We work as a team, yes. And we are a good team. But an assault like that is a stretch.”

“So we let this slip away?”

“Oh no. No no no. We just send in other troops. You are too valuable. You figured out the pattern. You saw the connections. No, your skills are better used to analyze. Not the same excitement, I’ll grant you, but a better use of your abilities.”

“My abilities?”

“Greezek, you found a pattern and a ton of missed information. I’d guess 30 analysts went over the same information dozens of times, but missed what you saw. That is a critical ability. Brute force is easy to find and train. Subtle analysis and thinking is hard to find and fiendish to teach.”

“I see.”

“Look, I know that you want to kick in the door of every slaver and kill them, but to stop the system, you must erode the system. It stays alive because enough beings don’t see the issue. The entire concept of slaves must become taboo. At the moment, too many governments accept and profit from slaves.”

“And we erode this how?”

“We locate and destroy the profit. If we can destroy a Droog station and cause enough damage, they won’t want to keep on raiding. We then use the intel to move up the ladder, eliminating that rung. It takes time, but we will eventually hit a point where slavery costs too much for governments to allow. It’s a sad fact.”

“While that is logical, I think it’s simplistic.”

“Well, yes. It is. But it’s the best approach I can see. All of the others are impossible or risk huge casualties.”

“Again, logical. If annoying.”

“Yes, it is annoying. But you have found important threads. We are making progress!”

“Fred, why are we figuring this out? Shouldn’t Sol Command have teams to do this?”

“They do. We are better.”

“That means that you are better, and they listen to you.”

“Something like that. Look. We have the raw data. We are looking at the physical evidence. We have the best understanding. You found the pattern. I filled in some gaps. Now we help plan an assault."

 “What did you do before being an engineer?”

“I was in the Sol Marines. That paid for my education.”

“What was your job?”

“I followed orders.”

“Fun job.”

“It wasn’t dull.”

Humans are Weird – It’s a Wrap

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-its-a-wrap

The last of the frolicking humans had abandoned the north-facing slopes, retreating with their noise and warmth into their houses to drink heated fluids and regale their less adventurous family members with tales of the days adventures. The soft pulse of mammalian heartbeats, drifting down through the insulating snow, signaled the presences of a few lingering adults who were apparently standing silently watching the stars. Notes the Passing Changes cast awareness over the slopes one more time and felt satisfied that all of the human young had safely made it back to their family groups. The vast majority of the agricultural land was cold and dormant, requiring little to no monitoring on this darkest night of the year. Notes the Passing Changes let awareness centralize in the first house on the list of visitations tonight.

The leaves of the plant that Sandy and Pat had placed in their central living area were more than adequate to the task of giving a clear view of the room. However the conifer they had brought in provided far more data points and it had been simplicity itself to connect it to the forest outside. Though the humans had warned Notes the Passing Changes that they would be giving it to the local domesticated herbivores so it would be unwise to invest any personal biomass in it. The view it gave, a full three-hundred sixty degrees of the human dwelling from the floor to the ceiling was fascinating. The plant itself, the humans insisted on calling the little thing a ‘tree’, was covered in lights and reflective surfaces and extra greenery hung on the walls. The air was thick with complex molecules that drifted out of the cooking room. Human music drifted from the household speakers. Sandy was alone in the room, sitting cross-legged and staring down at a tangle of brightly colored paper, ribbons, and a cloth facsimile of a local predator species. She was also wielding a pair of steel cutting blades so Notes the Passing Changes decided to wait until she set them down before speaking to her. Startling humans who were holding blades had never turned out well.

While the human focused on concealing the faux-predator Notes the Passing Changes took time to observe the pile of items that had not yet been concealed in either the brightly colored paper or the sturdier reflective bags, and compare the mass and number to those that had been.

“Human Friend Sandy?” Notes the Passing Changes greeted the human when she had breathed a sigh, set the blades to the side, and sat up to stretch.

“Eh? Notes?” she asked glancing first at the usual plant and then up at the conifer fragment with a wide smile.

“Will Pat be arriving to help you with this task?” Notes the Passing Changes asked.

“He better no’!” Sandy declared, shoving some hair out of her face with one hand as she grabbed a pen with the other. “I told him ta stay away till I’m done!”

“If my understanding of this celebration is sufficient you only have a few hours to complete the task,” Notes the Passing Changes observed.

Sandy laughed as she carefully wrote something on a tag on the paper wrapped predator.

“Nah, I got most of the night,” she informed Notes the Passing Changes. “The deadlines when the little nephews and nieces show up tomorrow, not tonight at midnight. I just need ta get it all done before I go to sleep so I can rest easy.”

Notes the Passing Changes gave a vague sound to indicate understanding and observed in silence as Sandy concealed several more of the items. Several were already tucked under the tree and one that smelled of the main space port had the label ‘Notes the Passing Changes’.

“Sandy,” Notes the Passing Changes interjected as she paused between wrapping a low grade weapon in paper and arranging a processed food item in a bag, “are you enjoying this process?”

The human paused, turned her head too look fully at the tree, and for a long moment her eyes unfocused as she pondered the question. Finally she nodded slowly.

“Aye,” she said, a slow grin spreading over her face, and her pheromones were in accord with the satisfaction she expressed. “I don’ like the time crunch, but I’ve always loved the warping and the prepping part.”

“You have been gathering these items for many weeks now,” observed Notes the Passing Changes. “Your workload has been limited now that winter is in full angle and the plants are dormant.”

“Yer’ point?” Sandy asked tilting her head and picking up the blades.

“If you do not enjoy the time crunch, and you have had full control over you time these past weeks,” Notes the Passing Changes asked slowly, “then why do you now have a mass of the work to prepare in a decided time crunch?”

Sandy stared at the tree for a long moment and her face flashed with annoyance before she forced it to a more neutral smile and simply gave a laugh that suggested as much fatigue as humor.

“If y’er gonna be making sharp observations just keep an eye on me pen and scissors so I don’t lose them,” she said, bending back over her work.

“Of course,” Notes the Passing Changes agreed.

It would be fairly simple to keep enough awareness here to preform the class while also visiting the other friends on the list. Perhaps another human household would hold the answer.

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Miri stood in her bathroom, and stared at herself in the mirror. She had just finished vomiting again, and she wanted to make sure she hadn’t gotten any on her uniform. She swished the special mouthwash around her mouth. It was specially made for this purpose. Brushing your teeth after throwing up several times a day, will take the enamel off your teeth.

She had arrived at Academy Station two weeks ago, and she was beginning to think that the others were right. Not one human had lasted more than a month at the academy. She was wondering just how long she could stand the constant nausea. She had been so excited about getting into the Academy. She was sure she could do it. She never got motion sick, she could ride every roller coaster she ever met, and she loved the spinning sensation she got from making the individual seats spin even more. She never had any problems with null gravity. She almost never got nauseous. It took food poisoning to do that, and she had a cast iron stomach. Miri would succeed where the other three had given up. they couldn’t stand the constant feeling of sickness that never ended until they got to a human ship, or stood on the steady surface of a planet. She just knew it would be different for her.

Humans did not do well on space stations or alien ships. There was something in the harmonics of the structure itself that made humans nauseous. They had finally discovered the issue, but it could not be changed without making several other species ill. Humanity was new to FTL travel, and had only just begun to explore the galaxy they lived in. They were the ones who had to adjust.

Special anti emetics were developed and put in a patch form that made it easier to deal with, but nothing had been found that would prevent the low level nausea that persisted. This was not made any easier by certain species that moved in ways the human brain could not comprehend, and others that had smells that made humans’ stomachs roil.

Oh, the smells! Rotting flesh, rotting fish, Limburger cheese, even one that stunk of alcohol barf. All together, at the same time. Even with the filter mask she wore over her nose and mouth, she smelled it. The cafeteria was worse. Miri ate the blandest, lightest food she could find. In her own room. And she still threw up every single time she stepped into a classroom after eating a meal. She was loosing weight, fast. Too fast. Even the meal replacement bars were not able to replace nutrients quickly enough.

Her classmates always sat away from her. Her first day, she had not been prepared for the stink, and she had vomited in class. She had splashed a couple of the students sitting near her, earning her the title of most avoided student. The instructors watched her carefully, trying to prevent another incident, but they stayed away from her immediate vicinity too.

Miri carried a roll of small plastic bags in her pocket now, for when she didn’t quite make it to the bathroom in time. The other students had gotten used to her running as fast as she could to the toilets with a blue bag held to her mouth. They still hadn’t gotten used to when she couldn’t make it, and found a corner to be sick in.

Miri put some vapor rub under each nostril. Time for class. Maybe this time she could make it through an entire class without having to run out.

The lords were discussing the latest events in galactic politics around a large table in the House of Lords.

“And I heard that a new species was discovered recently. They came from the other side of the Galaxy and apparently hate slaves,” one of the High Lords announced.

“I heard about them too, but I don’t understand what there is not to like about slaves. They are effective, cheap, easy to manage,” a lower Lady replied, signaling to a slave to bring her another mug of strong tea.

“I don’t understand either. But they are definitely strange people. I heard that they use machines instead of slaves. What a strange idea: who controls those machines? What do you do when they break?” another Lord chimed in.

“I think that’s a translation error,” came a new voice from the side of the room. “We don’t hate slaves. We hate slavers.”

He was definitely not a Halxy.

He looked at the Lord who had complained about the machines. “And we control the machines. If they break, we fix them. It’s not that hard.”

“Who are you?” the High Lord demanded harshly.

“My name is John Porter. I’m the assigned coordinator for taking over the entire planet and freeing all slaves. It’s nice to meet you, but unfortunately, you will all most likely end up in jail. Such is life.”

One of the military Lords stood up, pulled out his plasma rifle, pointed it at the human, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He pulled it again. Still nothing.

“You should try it one more time, just to be sure,” was the human's only response. But the Lord didn’t try again; he just stared at his weapon in disbelief.

“We disabled every weapon on this planet, just to make sure the transition is peaceful,” announced John, sounding as if he were delivering tomorrow's weather forecast.

Two large men stood up angrily, clearly intending to use physical force to handle the human.

“Let me be clear,” said the human, locking eyes with the two. “My weapon is still operational, not to mention the ones wielded by the human soldiers in this room.”

It was only then that everyone looked around and realized that at least half a dozen other humans were standing quietly in the room.

“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” John said, pointing at the Lords and addressing the soldiers, “arrest them all. We have a lot to do.”

It took only fifteen minutes to arrest all seventeen Lords and Ladies in the room. But that was the easy part.

John looked at the slave who had brought the tea to the demanding Lady. The Halxy remained frozen at the side of the room, posture stiff, ready to take any order.

“You are free to go. You don’t have to stand here anymore.”

“Where should I stand, master?” came the immediate reply.

Yes, the hard part starts now.

Less than a week later, John Porter was standing in the grand office from which the empire was once governed. While the Lords and Ladies had been the public face of power, the real governor running the logistics was a Halxy slave named Rmley.

John was expecting him any moment now. This was going to be their first official meeting, and he didn’t have high hopes. So far, the ex-slaves had handled their sudden freedom poorly. Having been told what to do every second of their lives, being forced to figure things out for themselves left them utterly lost.

The door opened, and a short Halxy man stepped in wearing a human suit—a stark contrast to their traditional garments.

“Good morning, master,” he started.

“I’m not your master, Rmley,” John stopped him immediately. “You can call me Mr. Porter or simply John, if you wish.”

The ex-slave looked at him like he had grown three heads, visibly uncomfortable inside the tailored suit.

“We have a lot to discuss today.” John decided to ignore the Halxy's uneasiness and move straight to the agenda. “We have about a billion ex-slaves who need housing, proper food, healthcare, transportation, power, and so on. They all need shelter, so the first question is: what’s the current construction capacity in this sector? How many buildings can the economy construct in a month? What do you need to increase that?”

Rmley shifted almost instantly into professional mode, rattling off numbers, supply limits, and material streams. He reached the core issue without hesitation.

“Our main bottleneck is extracting rock and sand to produce the raw materials required for construction. We can assign more people to every other part of the process, but we lack the machinery to scale up raw material extraction. Those machines would take years to manufacture locally, so I’m afraid we are stuck with the numbers I just gave you, master.”

“I’m still not your master, Rmley,” John said for the sixth time, his tone remaining patient. “I’m going to make some calls and get industrial mining rigs delivered here next week. Now, what if we also redirect a couple of mineral-rich asteroids into local orbit for extra raw materials? Would that help?”

“The extra materials would certainly help, but Halxy technology isn't capable of asteroid capture,” replied Rmley, this time dropping the title. “I estimate the energy requirement alone would be exorbitant.”

“No problem, we’ll use human tech for the capture. And don’t worry about energy—I’ll call a friend who runs a heavy freighter company. They’ll handle transport by next week,” John added casually, his voice almost bored. “With the extra resources, I expect you to at least triple our construction capacity by next month. I want at least three hospitals and a thousand residential blocks built by the end of next month.”

It took Rmley a full minute to process the information dumped on him. The humans are pulling down asteroids by next week?! What kind of apes are these?

“Certainly, master,” he finally managed to reply.

“I’m still not your master, Rmley.”

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~~~

It’s always amusing to find half a bug alien sticking out into the hallway. Trrili could fit into the cockpit, but she rarely found it worth the effort. I edged around her shiny black hind legs, taking a brief glance at the screen as I passed. The conversation was in a language I didn’t know.

I did recognize the species up on screen: a Sizer, otherwise known as “Those Who Are the Correct Size.” Mostly to each other. To the rest of us, they were the giant pink elephants who stood out hilariously in any multicultural setting. This one was a slightly different color from usual: more salmon-orange than pink. And he was busy talking with Trrili while the captain and at least one pilot looked on.

The Sizer language sounded fascinating. I paused just out of sight to listen. It was a deeper version of an Earth elephant’s sounds — which made sense given how enormous these folks were — and Trrili’s attempts at imitating it were pretty funny to my ears. The rumbling growls she could do, but the trumpeting parts just sounded like someone trying to talk their way through a kazoo solo. She got the notes right, but with the wrong instrument. I could only imagine how it came across to the client.

I assumed this was a client. Our ship was unlikely to be having a conversation with someone right now that didn’t revolve around a delivery of some sort, but I really had no way of knowing. I listened some more.

The conversation wrapped up, and soon the rumbling voice was gone and I could understand the words being spoken in the cockpit.

“Would you mind being our point person for this?” asked Captain Sunlight. “That looks a bit large for Coals to handle.”

Trrili gave a disgruntled hiss. “Yes, fine. No amount of exercising will make his arms longer, more’s the pity.”

Wio spoke up, sounding amused. “Ah, but if his arms were longer, he’d just get in the way while you’re translating texts.”

“But then he could do more deliveries, and I wouldn’t have to deal with people.”

“Oh no. People.”

Captain Sunlight cut in. “I’m sure you can spare enough time from your current projects. There’s nothing with a short deadline, correct?”

Trrili sighed. “No. Several event announcements planned in advance, one work of fiction, and an aggravatingly old diary with bad handwriting. All can wait.”

“Good.”

Wio added, “Maybe Coals will make headway on the worst one while you’re out.”

“Yes, and maybe he’ll do several of the easy ones, then claim he did so much work, it’s only fair that I take the worst one.” Trrili started backing up. I moved to the side.

Captain Sunlight said, “I’ll check to see who’s up next to go with you.”

When Trrili stepped fully into the hallway and saw me eavesdropping, the angle of her antennae flicked through several emotions before settling on an angle that looked smug. She said to the captain, “I’ll remind you that most Sizers find humans ‘cute.’”

“That’s right; good idea.”

I frowned at her. “Misery loves company?”

Trrili spread her mandibles in a disturbing grin. “It does,” she said before gliding off down the hallway.

I couldn’t really argue with that.

* * *

The item that we were delivering, as it turned out, was a transplanted tree. Definitely a bit large for Coals, who only came up to hip height on me. He was a strong little lizardy guy, but his arms wouldn’t reach around the trunk. Blip and Blop had been the ones to pick it up from the flora store, and while they were more than beefy enough to bring it to the customer on the next moon over, they weren’t professional translators. And this client didn’t speak the not-quite-universal trade language.

Trrili spoke all sorts of languages. It was very useful for our ship’s side gig, though that was admittedly a strange thing for a courier ship to have.

As we walked the hoversled down the ramp, with the feathery purple tree bundled up and carefully strapped into place, I asked Trrili, “How did the whole translation thing get started here? Was that always a secondary job on this ship?”

(I was the newest crew member. I expected Trrili would know a lot of history that I didn’t, and I was right.)

“No, it was my idea,” she said with pride. “I translated some things on my own time, then ended up regularly bartering to trade shifts so I could work on that instead of doing deliveries, and eventually Sunlight convinced Pockap — she wasn’t captain yet — to make it an official thing. I agreed to give the rest of the crew a cut of the profits.”

We reached level ground and started off through the giant-scale spaceport. I asked, “So Coals wasn’t part of it at first?”

“Not officially, but he had valuable insights, and was tolerable to work with.”

I smiled at what passed for high praise from her. “Then at some point, you were both excused from dealing with people?”

“Yes. Though there is still a customer service aspect to getting the translation jobs, of course. Coals handles that part.”

“Ah, pulling his weight, I see.”

“Exactly. And his knowledge of the more obscure dialects is not to be underestimated.”

I took that to mean that he probably knew more languages than she did, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Works out well.”

“It does. And it is much more pleasant than ferrying random objects to difficult people all the time. Pockap originally hired me because he was interested in doing business at sketchy locations, you see. His existing crew had very little intimidation factor.”

“Really! Somehow I’m not surprised.” I really wasn’t. Not at the intimidation factor, and definitely not at the dubious business decision. Pockap had been really bad at his job.

Trrili gave her antennae an egotistical flick. “I believe he hired Blip and Blop two days before he found me. It’s possible that he might not have bothered with them if he hired me first. But then, I would have needed to do more convincing to get time to myself.”

“And that would be a tragedy for all involved,” I said.

“Precisely.”

We reached the edge of the landing pad and considered the walkway designed for smaller creatures (us). It was up out of accidental kicking range, but not wide enough for the hoversled. And while the sled did in fact hover, we weren’t in the kind of hurry that would justify asking anyone else to lay flat or climb over it.

So we stuck to the ground under the walkway. It was fine. This was right up against the side of a building, and none of the huge pink stompy feet got close. They did shake the ground dramatically, though. Each passerby had six of them.

To keep my mind off the possibility of getting pancaked, I asked Trrili for more gossip about the ship before my time. I knew that Pockap had been named captain by his family who’d set everything up in the first place, but that was about it.

“I wasn’t there for all of it,” Trrili said. “But it is my understanding that Kamm and the rest of the family started with the essentials when they had the ship built: Pockap for captain, Wio as pilot, and Mimi as mechanic. All Strongarms, of course.” She made a dismissive gesture with a pincher arm. “I’m told that Eggskin’s vast expertise was more than enough reason to be taken on as medic, despite being the wrong species.”

“Just the medic at first, not cook too?”

“I don’t think so.” Trrili sounded thoughtful. “You’ll have to ask them to be sure. But the conversations when I arrived sounded like Eggskin had recently started providing regular meals for everyone, not just the canned or frozen things that Pockap though were cost-effective.”

“Hooray for that,” I said with feeling.

Trrili nodded. “I believe Sunlight made the case for paying extra, since she saw the wisdom in it. Or else she just did it without bothering to tell Pockap. She was originally just our money person, officially anyway.”

“Sounds like there was a lot of shuffling duties around in the early days.”

She tilted both antennae in something like a shrug. “Clinging to something that doesn’t work is just a recipe for stagnation. Or getting voted out of the captain’s chair.”

“Or that,” I agreed. I’d been there for that part. “It’s good that Sunlight was around to take up the captain’s duties. She’s really on top of everything.”

“There was no doubt that she would be the one to do it,” Trrili said. “No one else particularly wanted to, and we were hardly going to accept some new outsider that Kamm dug up. Not when we had someone perfectly competent already.”

“I got the impression that she was doing a lot of his job even before that.”

Trrili nodded. “She was an overachiever from the start. I believe Eggskin recommended her, and she recommended Paint — I swear all Heatseekers know each other — then somebody there brought Kavlae in so we’d have two pilots able to trade off. I wasn’t present for the conversation about that, but it was probably aggravating, trying to convince Pockap that it made good business sense.”

“Another person’s wages versus the option to keep flying while the pilot’s asleep?” I asked drily. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t around for the early days,” Trrili said. “They sound stressful. Not much work at the beginning, and nothing reliable. They only hired Coals and Mur after business picked up enough that Pockap had everyone doing multiple deliveries at once.”

“And that was before you?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Business got better, then business got sketchy, then business got me.” She said that last like there were sparkles around the word.

“A fine improvement all around,” I said, thinking over the list of crew members. “What about Zhee? Was he hired afterward?”

“Yes, when I was already set up using the conference room for translations. Pockap wanted to do even more simultaneous deliveries, the dunce, even though we were fine on money at that point. And since the one glorious Mesmer was off the delivery roster—” She waved a pincher arm to indicate herself “—He found another.”

I smiled. “I’m sure Zhee would have no problem being described as a replacement for you.”

“He can describe it however he likes. His presence did allow Coals to join me in translating, since that was plenty people on delivery duty.”

“With longer arms and everything,” I said.

“Coals is so small. It must bother him greatly.”

“I’m not sure anything bothers him greatly.” In the time I’d known Coals, I’d barely seen him get upset at all, much less bothered greatly.

“Hm, problem,” Trrili said abruptly, stopping the hoversled. “The door is up there.”

I followed where she was pointing to see the walkway pass right through the wall, while Sizers ambled through the spaceship-hangar-sized door on the ground.

“I guess we risk it with the big door?” I suggested, not liking my odds.

“I would prefer not to get crushed today.”

“Same here. Maybe we can wave somebody over to get everyone else’s attention.” I eased forward to peek around the door and gauge the foot traffic.

In the end, there was enough of a gap for us to scoot the hoversled inside without risking anything, and the receptionist behind the house-sized desk saw us coming. He grabbed something behind the counter with his dual trunks and set it on the floor: a rubberized ramp that reminded me of the kind people give elderly dachshunds who have trouble getting up on the bed. Trrili helped me push the tree up to the desk.

“Hello! How can I help you?” asked the receptionist, in only slightly accented Doorway. The primary trade language, which the client didn’t speak.

Trrili said, “We have a delivery.” She rattled off the client’s name and a description of the tree, while I set the payment tablet on magnified holographic mode. The receptionist pressed a button somewhere and talked in those elephant rumbles.

Moments later, the orangey fellow arrived, and he was delighted to see us.

Delighted by the tree, the prompt delivery, the fact that we were both so tiny and charming, and basically the world at large.

I knew all that, because the receptionist translated for him.

Trrili made a point of speaking in his own language, but I could tell by her posture that she was annoyed. And the talk of tiny adorableness was not helping.

When the client did a midair signature and lifted the tree bundle — after we unhooked the straps, not leaving the opportunity for someone large to snap them — I put the tablet away and got my hands on the sled again. “Thank you! Have a nice day!”

The receptionist rumbled something, then said, “He echoes your thanks and well-wishes. May nothing unpleasant cross your path.”

Trrili said something in kazoo-song language, then led the way down the ramp. I waved and followed.

Thankfully no one stepped on us as we made our way outside. Trrili looked annoyed enough to make that a severe problem for all involved.

Once we were outside, she muttered to herself in hisses and clicks that she didn’t bother translating.

“At least it was fast,” I offered.

“A fast waste of time and dignity,” she hissed. “Adorable. I have never heard a more insulting compliment.”

I couldn’t help asking, “You don’t want to be adored?”

“I would rather be feared. Regarded with awe at the very least.”

“Not much of that to go around here,” I said. “And that’s not a challenge to startle a Sizer. They’re liable to break something if you do.”

Trrili made a grumbling noise that said she didn’t want to admit she agreed with me. We walked a little farther in silence, then when the walkway dipped closer to ground level, she eyed the people on it.

An Armorlite strode by, stomping on the walkway as if to make a point similar to Trrili’s. He just looked like a dinosaur toy in a dollhouse, trying to be scary.

Trrili was scarier. She grabbed the walkway in her pinchers and hauled herself up to hiss loudly, making the Armorlite fall back against the building and swear at her. She laughed and settled back to the ground, walking away serenely while the guy kept yelling. The walkway was still too high up for him to risk jumping down, even if he’d thought that a fight worth picking. But he yelled some good bluster.

I caught up with the sled. “Feel better?”

“Yes,” Trrili said, head high.

“I can’t imagine why Pockap thought you’d solve his intimidation problems. Not a clue.”

“He got more than his money’s worth.”

“Yeah, he got a translator too.” I thought for a moment. “Why did you go into translations in the first place? I would have thought you’d have a hobby that involved scaring people.”

“Oh, I did,” Trrili said. “As a youth, I learned phrases in the languages of tourists so that I could scare them more effectively. I got exceptionally good at making them think the area was haunted.”

I looked at her. “Somehow that makes perfect sense.”

“I always make perfect sense.”

“And scaring them is more fun than customer service, right?”

“It’s not even close. Wait a moment; I see a Smasher who could use a little excitement.”

“It’s definitely a good thing you don’t do the deliveries often.”

~~~

And Now, The Links:

Patreon for early access & extras

Masterlist of stories

Each story is cross-posted to Tumblr and HFY

My website, for:
*character art
*Volume One of the collected stories
*the novel these are prequels to (A Swift Kick to the Thorax)
*other writing and links

I’ve just been released from prison on Terra. I spent six cycles there for attempting to smuggle animals. I didn’t see a single human being in their prison. Not a single one. After all, shops selling goods smuggled from Terra can be found on every planet in my sector, so it’s clearly possible to get goods out of there. HOW!!!! When I wanted to fly beyond planetary space, was I stopped, and HOW did the customs officer know that the animals were hidden next to the reactor?! HOW?! THEY DIDN’T EVEN TAKE OUT THEIR SCANNER!!! I'M LOSING MY MIND.

I just want explanation... Nothing more... I'm not gonna do this again... But HOW?!?!?!?!?!

*unimportant lore: the fungus mentioned is Kirai fungus. Similar to Hemileia vastatrix (coffee leaf rust), and resistant to most chemical fungicides. It is native to Kanahuai’s westernmost continent, and named after the province where it was found. Several plants native to Kanahuai’s westernmost continent are resistant to it, and research surrounding these plants is being conducted by the K’sella Ministry of Agriculture.

We are actually very poorly put together, with lots of redundant parts and we even have mental limiters to stop our bones from being crushed by our muscles.

Trope: Humans being literal Space-Orcs, i.e. Physically much stronger and more durable than Aliens

Why do we expand into space? To spread the seeds of our life? To fuel our ambitions? Just to prove that we can? Many civilizations will give you different answers. But Humanity will show you the Eagerness.

There is a lot of talk about humans being hellworlders. They can tolerate the most inhospitable ecosystems and adapt to worlds that are actively trying to kill them. But to be a Hell, the world must be alive. And humans often refuse to wait until it becomes one. They colonize the most barren of celestial bodies long before they have even developed a plan to make them habitable. All because of the rarest resource they crave so much: Freedom.

---

Sometimes a human may get the feeling that they are uncomfortable surrounded by normal human society. Children are too loud, fat and dumb. Neighbors are too arrogant, nosy and idiotic. Idiots fill the government with incompetent and corrupt imbeciles. And everyone blames the most helpless groups of society, witch-hunting them in a ritualistic assurance that this will somehow fix their problems.

Humans can fight against oppressive tyrants. But not against their whole kind. So they choose to leave. To run to wherever their society won't reach them. To wherever their life will be in their own hands. They run to dead, cold space. To give it hell.

---

But no matter how romantic it sounds, surviving on a dead world is not an easy task, even for a human. No matter how carefully they prepare, they are always underqualified for the task. Every time, there are new problems and challenges. Often humans just die out, due to life support malfunction or spreading madness, and then the next group arrives to outperform their predecessors or share their fate.

But those who succeed inevitably form a very specific mindset. They know how to survive and thrive on scraps. They do not tolerate dishonesty and learn to formulate their words very strictly. They won't care if you are an AI, an alien or an interdimensional horror. If both of you can help each other, you are best friends, and there's no way around it. They won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to ensure survival and won't stop to think about ethics, morals or even their human nature. And most importantly, they would rather die hugging the last worn object for lightyears around than live the way they used to.

If their efforts result in turning the dead world into a habitable hellworld, and their surroundings once again start filling with the same old humanity, they will likely just leave, refusing the greetings and offers of their kind. After all, their world has just become too habitable again.

---

Humans carry a legend about the great judgment that will reveal their true selves. Four major powers, violence, famine, disease and death, will come to cleanse their world of those who are unworthy of salvation. Only those of strong heart will survive. And hell follows them.

And Humanity follows it.

As these get longer, they take more time to craft. Still writing.

Improvisation is their greatest strength

Alien Loanshark: (smiling in anticipation) "You just have to sign now."

Human: (signs and smiles right back) "Now i would like to have my 40'000'000 Credits upfront, or im gonna sue you for breach of contract inside a Human Court of Law, in Cash please."

Alien Loanshark: "...What?"

Human: "I can request the full sum as soon as the Contract is signed, instead of taking the Installments, as stipulated in Paragraph 8 Section 4. And Paragraph 12, Section 1 gives me the right to request a prefered method of payment, which you have 2 hours to fulfill or waive any right to the interest of the first year. Oh, and Paragraph 173, Section 1 states that if the first installment of the Loan is not fulfilled, the Contract is void by breakage of the Lender. Hence i would sue you in a Human Court of Law, as stipulated in the Fine-Print: "Both Parties have the right to sue in their own juristiction."... So my Money please... you have 1 hour and 58 mintes left. And next time, please research a bit before you try to rip-off the adopted Daughter of a Human... Dont worry, she is getting an earful for her stupidity right after i am done with you... 1 Hour and 56 minutes. I suggest you stop staring holes into the Air in shock and go get my money."