#haso

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special, Part Two

(Part One is here)

Oscar Tennyson grabbed his purchases and hurried after the rest of his crew. As usual, they were walking quickly on their longer legs and bellowing for him to keep up. The teeth-and-scales Mighty had no patience for human weaknesses. Of which there were many.

But, as Oscar had just learned, there were some strengths as well. And he couldn’t wait to show them.

He scampered onboard before the door shut, wondering if they would actually leave without him if he dawdled too long. Probably not — who would handle their finances and hunting permits? They’d have to hire someone else, because they certainly didn’t want to do it themselves. But he didn’t want to test that.

He had much better things to test. While the stark metal walls vibrated with the engine’s revs, Oscar wove between scaled biceps and tails to his own quarters. He pressed the panel by the door, which was oversized and cracked like all of them on this ship. The Mighty were not fans of fiddly little buttons or keys. Not when they could have panels big enough to punch, which only broke sometimes.

When Oscar stepped through and closed the door behind him, he felt immediately relieved. This was his private space to decorate as he chose, without worrying that someone would take things down or make fun of him. Ship rules were clear about personal quarters. Oscar’s fake orchids and real cactus made the room homey, along with more posters than the walls could hold. They spilled onto the ceiling, lining it with nature scenes from Earth, sports figures he admired, media announcements, and a good number of fluffy kittens. This was the one spot on the ship where he could feel comfortable, and he was making the most of it.

The bag of refueling station supplies crinkled as he set it on his small table to remove the contents. A high-end store might have had Waterwill bags that evaporated after a day, but this place used regular old plastic. Inside were food cubes, bottled water, and the purchase he was most excited about: six cans of very weak caffeine.

He scanned the label. It was just like the other human had said. Tall cans in dramatic colors, but not much of substance inside. At least, not as far as the average human was concerned.

Oscar couldn’t wait until dinner time.

Before then, he had a permit to submit and several other things to check. The ship should be on the way to Argosha, which was notorious for welcoming outsiders in to hunt the Dagger Birds that were giving everyone so much trouble, but he had better get their paperwork in order anyway.

He grabbed his tablet and left his safe haven, heading back into the public parts of the ship where he could face taunts from any direction. Really, these guys were just like his cousins. At least it was familiar.

Fending off tiresome conversation — “How’s the weather down there?” “Why don’t you ask your mother?” —he reached the bridge and found a corner to stand in. The captain and the pilot were arguing about where to land when they reached Argosha.

“The main site will have more people to admire our ship!”

“The new one is closer to the hunting grounds!”

“Dagger Birds are overrunning the place; everywhere is a hunting ground!”

“Do you want to pay the damages for shooting a building instead of a bird? We can take it all out of your pay, if you want!”

“Fine, but if we land on some overgrown hedge and the ship is scratched, you get to pay for that!”

“Fine!”

The pair of them stopped yelling and sat back in their seats as if nothing at all was the matter, because it wasn’t. Polite disagreements were always held at that volume.

In the brief lull while the pilot manipulated the controls with more force than a lesser console could withstand, Oscar spoke up. “I’d like to come too.”

Both dinosaurian heads turned to stare at him in surprise. “Why?” the captain demanded. “One kick from a bird, and you’re useless to us.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said flatly. “I’ll keep out of the way. I want to take photos of your fighting prowess; I should be able to sell them.”

Both of the Mighty preened at that, as he’d known they would. Ego was big here. The captain agreed, and Oscar didn’t let slip any hints of his secret plan. He just finished working on his tablet, then retreated to his quarters to practice Dagger Bird mating calls.

The air on Argosha was breathable but hot, at least this part of it. Oscar was ready with his Tool in his pocket. (He’d gotten out of the habit of calling it a phone, since the Mighty were right in that it did a near-infinite number of things.) (He still smirked quietly at the potential innuendo, but it was a conversation he didn’t really want to have with giant dinosaur aliens, so he kept that to himself.)

“This way,” announced the captain, pointing in what looked like an arbitrary direction into the wilderness. Whooping with the alien equivalent of testosterone, the crew raised their blasters and tromped off the landing pad with Oscar following close behind.

True to his word, he did take some pictures as he went. But he was waiting for his moment.

It didn’t take long to come. The shouting scared off all the wildlife, then the Mighty found a boulder to crouch behind and wait for the creatures to come back. They played a silent counting game to see who was best at guessing when they’d spot something worth killing.

Distant footsteps on leaves made them smack each other in excitement, but nothing appeared between the trees.

Now or never, Oscar thought. Knowing better than to startled his crewmates, he whispered, “Here, let me.” Then he took a deep breath and let loose with his best imitation of a Dagger Bird seeking a mate. “Woarrrrrrk!”

While the Mighty shushed him and wondered what he was doing and started to figure it out, an answering woarrk sounded from nearby.

Then another, then, three.

Oscar wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.

No less than five large and eager Dagger Birds crashed through the undergrowth at once, croaking and flapping, taking offense at each other’s presence. The Mighty all roared and leapt out, firing in every direction.

Oscar dashed for a tree he’d been eyeing, the one with lots of branches, and didn’t stop climbing until he was out of beak-stabbing range. He held tight to the trunk, catching his breath and watching the chaos. Belatedly, he remembered to take out his Tool and snap some photos.

This was actually a good angle. He got a great shot of the captain aiming down the throat of a wide-open beak, then another a split second later when the beak snapped shut inches from his head. Another of the engineer shooting one from beneath. Two of the pilot tackling the largest bird and sinking teeth into the back of its neck where it couldn’t reach to stab.

Other species did their trophy hunting from a distance. The Mighty liked the fight as much as the kill. Their blasters were set on a deliberately low setting, and their teeth were sharp.

Safe up in his tree, Oscar grimaced at how bloody things were getting down below. He yelled another bird call to distract the one about to spear the crewmate who’d been knocked to the ground, and he got a cheerful “Nice save by the little guy!” which was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. The crewmate scrambled up and bit off a chunk while the bird was distracted. A couple of the crew looked like they were bleeding their own blood, but most of it was coming from the Dagger Birds, which were just as stubborn as the stories had said. Not one of them ran off. The last to die fell on top of somebody, which just added laughter from the rest of the crew to the triumphant cheers.

Oscar took a picture of the bird being dragged off his disgraced crewmate. That photo he wouldn’t sell, but would keep as minor blackmail if he ever needed it. Sticking it up on the wall to remind everyone of this moment could be a valuable strategic move.

“We are the MIGHTY!” bellowed the captain, and the whole crew joined in with a deep-voiced cheer. Oscar climbed down to more approval than he’d gotten in the last month.

“Good work by our human here! Who knew you could do that?”

“That’s sure an efficient way to hunt!”

“We should bring you out every time. That was great.”

Oscar took the praise with pride, not bothering with modesty. That was just another word for weakness as far as these guys were concerned.

He managed to dodge when one of them made to slap him on the back with a large bloodstained hand, which just made them laugh more. Luckily the captain directed everybody to gather their kills for dragging back to the ship, rather than chasing the human and messing up his clothes.

Oscar took a position on the lowest branch of his tree, taking a couple more photos as the victorious hunters figured out got to get it all home. If anyone had asked Oscar, which they never would, he’d have suggested going back for a hovercart, or taking them one at a time. But of course they did neither.

Definitely the type to insist on carrying all the groceries in at once, Oscar thought as his crewmates strained to drag the giant carcasses through the undergrowth. He hopped down and kept pace out to the side where there was no blood on the leaves.

They finally made it back to the ship, doing nothing to clean up the smears of blood they left on the landing pad. Oscar darted off to his quarters as soon as the door opened. The rest of them could handle getting the birds into cryo storage, or chopped up right away, whichever they saw fit to do. The lowest-ranking one without significant injuries would be in charge of clearing the blood from the hallways, but only after they’d all taken a walk through the water-and-air blast chamber that passed for a shower here. It had always reminded Oscar of a car wash.

He kept to himself until dinner, sorting his photos while everyone else dealt with the catch and the mess and the injuries. The mechanical medsystem on this ship was just as efficient as the shower. They’d all be in decent shape by mealtime.

And mealtime after a successful hunt was also drinking time.

Oscar usually ate in his room, wanting nothing to do with the raucous meat-tearing and drunkenness. But today was different, because he’d learned something valuable about the liquid they were getting drunk off.

Oscar considered the cans he’d bought, then decided it would have more of an impact if he just took one of the communal supply. So instead he grabbed his new food cubes and a premade tin of spaghetti from his mini-cryo, and followed the sound of laughter.

They were already a little drunk when he got there. Sprawled across chairs with a table full of meat slabs spilling over the edges of the plates. And as expected, there were tall purple cans everywhere.

“Heyyyy, it’s the little guy! Let’s hear it for the human with the surprise talent! Maybe you’re not useless after all!”

“Thanks,” Oscar said as they pounded fists against anything in reach as a form of applause. He leaned against the open doorway and shuffled his belongings so he could get a fork in a meatball without setting down the food cubes. “That was pretty easy where I’m from. You guys really can’t do that?” He popped the meatball into his mouth, casual as you please.

The Mighty of course, thought this was funny, and took it in stride. More gulps from their drinks, more savage mouthfuls of food, and a few questions about the surely-excellent photos he’d gotten, which would make them all look amazing.

Oscar said he’d share the best ones. These would make fine decorations in their own quarters, and would probably be appreciated by the right paying audience.

Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. The captain raised his drink in another cheer, and somebody noticed that the human was the only one without a can in his hand.

“Get the human a warrior’s drink!”

“Bet you he passes out after one sip.”

“Nah, he can take at least two.”

Oscar smiled quietly. If they’d been paying attention, they might have changed their bets at that smile. He set his food down in the hallway to free his hands. When one muscular, taloned arm offered him a can of their most potent intoxicant, he took it. Oh so casually.

Then he whipped his head back and chugged the whole thing.

“Oh! Human’s gonna die!”

“I’m not cleaning up the puke!”

“What the supernova! There are better ways to go than that!”

“Somebody drag him to medical so we don’t have to find somebody else to do the boring stuff.”

“Yeah, he was just getting interesting.”

Oscar ignored all of them, giving the empty can a thoughtful look. It felt like the same thin aluminum he remembered from Earth. And if there was anything his cousins had taught him, it was the proper way to dispose of a beer can.

He dug his fingertips in and crushed it against his forehead. Then while the room reacted to that, he wiped off the drips and threw the can across the room. When it went into the trash on the first try, he was internally very glad, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he picked up his food and resumed eating. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “Is that what you guys have been getting drunk off? How quaint.”

“How in all the black holes—”

“No, he’s gonna fall over any second; just watch.”

“Quaint, that’s hilarious.”

“He’s totally bluffing. Just wait and see.”

Oscar was enjoying being the center of the crew’s attention today. He made a show of sweeping his eyes across the various cans in the room. “None of you has finished a can yet, I see. Was that supposed to be strong?”

There was widespread laughing and elbowing of each other, most of them still clearly convinced that the silly little human was going to throw up and die any second now.

So Oscar set down his food, walked over to the table, and chugged a second one. It was a bit more liquid than his stomach was really happy with, but that was a small price to pay for the uproar that followed.

They exclaimed; they renewed their bets; they drank from their own cans; they got visibly drunker and abandoned their bets.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, eating spaghetti and food cubes.

After one particularly unsteady crewmate tripped onto the table full of meat, and someone pointed out that the human wasn’t wobbling at all, Oscar said, “You guys don’t know much about my species, do you? Half of what I eat would liquify your insides.” He held up a food cube, eyeing the different colored specks of all the ingredients that made it balanced for an omnivorous digestive system. He laughed. “You guys just eat meat. How boring!”

They only got drunker after that. Oscar was pretty sure that the nearest two wanted to pat him on the back, but the floor was moving too much for them to make it all the way to the doorway. Somebody offered him a raw slab of Dagger Bird. He turned it down with casual scorn.

“Nah, meat isn’t worth eating unless it’s passed through fire. That’s weakling meat you’ve got there. Get back to me when it’s cooked brown.”

They loved that. The party was an epic one, only winding down when most of the crew was too drunk to reach more drinks. Oscar demonstrated his steadiness by picking through the mess to drop his food containers in the trash, then move back to the door.

“Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I’ll send in the med-drone to make sure nobody’s going to wake up dead. Let me know if you want to get your tails handed to you by any more Dagger Birds. I’ll call ‘em in close for you again.”

He got groggy approval to that.

Oscar left with a smile on his face, and a mild amount of caffeine in his blood. Maybe after stopping by the medcenter, he’d use that energy on some exercise. Thoughts of the run to the hunting grounds, and the way his crewmates had paced themselves, suggested that it wouldn’t take much practice for him to out-endurance the Mighty on the VR treadmill.

I wonder what else I can do?

~~~~~~~~~

By popular request, this is the sequel to the story I posted last week, which is part of the ongoing series of backstory for the main character in this book. (It started that way, at any rate, and turned into a sprawling series in its own right. Fun stuff.)

Patreon opens the day after tomorrow, on May 1st! There's a free tier and everything if you want to keep up without strings attached! And you can even request more delightful nonsense like this.

Onward!

#multiple people wanted to see what happened next #and who am I to say no to that? #this is twice as long as the first story #because I had to cover everything #three cheers for this guy and his newfound respect #not to mention self-confidence #I imagine the dynamic will be different the next time he visits home and interacts with his cousins #noogies from a frat bro is nothing when you've dealt with macho space dinosaurs #anyways; other tags: #humans are weird #hfy #haso #eiad #humans are space orcs #my writing #The Token Human #writeblr #looking forward to the Patreon you guys #it's gonna be great

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 10

“Ah! Casper my boy!” Exclaimed Zeet. It was the older engineer geckin who had been supporting the young man's progress as a brand new mech pilot. The blue geckin had been the one in the first instance to suggest to the young man that he give piloting a try and so far had been a stalwart ally and straight shooting voice of reason for Casper.

Despite the engineer’s enthusiasm, Zeet had never led Casper astray, nor had any of his machines failed the young man. The human felt he could trust this geckin, as far as his equipment went at the very least. 

“Good morning Zeet, I understand it's the moment of truth?” Replied Casper, calmer than he expected. Qik stepped into the room not a single step behind the human and marched over to the correctly sized chairs. She pulled out the centre one and sat directly in front of the High Commander, the black and purple geckin in charge of the geckin people’s military actions.

She would be the one in control of the upcoming operation.  

This was when Casper noticed that there was a small crowd of geckins already sitting on the other side of the broad table that dominated the room. With only two chairs on ‘his’ side, it was quite obvious where he was meant to sit. Casper couldn’t help but squint and narrow his eyes at the people arrayed in front of him. Wasn’t it a bit heavy handed? Zeet, Wren, the High Commander and a slew of other geckins that the man had yet to have met, at least as far as he was aware of. Were they all needed to brief the pair of mercenaries?

Zeet seemed undeterred. 

“Indeed! The moment of truth! Oh, I can’t w-” Although the older alien couldn’t finish his sentence as a curt, sharp voice cut him off and he went silent instantly.

“Enough Zeet. Casper, why not sit with your… colleague?” Suggested the High Commander, not in the slightest giving him another option. Her tone was mocking, but he had no doubt she held little regard to either Qik or the pair of them.

Casper didn’t say anything, and instead calmly walked over to sit and join Qik at the table. She was perfectly still and a perfect picture of cold, calm and calculating. Casper kept his silence, and waited for someone else to speak.There was a pregnant moment of silence. 

The High Commander was the first to break the pause and spoke in a haughty tone.

“As per your contract Qik, we have need to run an op on the same planet as before.” She explained, blinking slowly and looking down her short snout at the lopeljack mercenary. Qik was unphased. 

“What’s the gig?” She asked without missing a beat.

“They’re amassing a sizable mechanised force in the former cities. Orbital operations are still at a stand still, neither of us want to have to report the loss of a ship.” The Commander explained, waving a hand dismissing the orbital fleets as if it were a non-issue. 

“So you want us to cut them down?” Qik asked, fishing for details.

“Exactly.” The purple and black geckin replied without assisting. Her eyes blinking slowly again, she kept them focused on Qik, pointedly ignoring Casper. He made no attempt to insert himself, he trusted Qik implicitly. The lopel stared the geckin down for a moment before breaking her gaze and shrugging, leaning back into her chair.

“Seems straight forward, I would have thought you would have used us in something more valuable.” She mused aloud, interlocking her fingers and gazing lazily at the geckin. Casper’s eyes narrowed a fraction just as he noticed the scale below her right eye twitch. A tell?

“I am a geckin of my word. This is the first combat operation we need to deploy against. The choice is our own mechanised force, which is a cost and a risk, or we rid ourselves of the two drains upon our resources.” The aloof geckin explained, again, waving her hand in the air without her elbows leaving them table. 

“Drains?” Casper asked, unable to bite his tongue in time. The geckin finally turned her attention to the human. 

“With your contracts complete you will have no need to stay and we can invest in professionals that mind their business.” Replied the commander, obviously peeved at the pair of them. 

The geckin turned her attention back to Qik, despite only being a foot tall, Casper was near certain he saw the mental image of a tank turret, slowly traversing as the High Commander turned and stared at Qik. 

The lopel merely stared back. 

“Make no mistake, we are not pleased with your interference with Casper and his training.” She explained curtly. Qik shrugged and pulled a uncaring face. 

“I trained him how I would train any pilot, just as you’ve asked me to do for the last hundred you sent my way. He’s no different.” She defended calmly. Casper had no idea if that was true. Did she use all her trainees as body pillows? 

He kept this thought to himself.

“And yet he’s the first to demand his own contract?” The High Commander demanded.

“Ask him yourself.” Qik offered, gesturing at Casper to her left. The young man tried not to have a heart attack. 

“Well?” The High Commander inquired, staring a hole through the centre of Casper’s forehead. Casper swallowed and gathered his thoughts, not sure if he was ready to be put on the spot already. But the man had, had plenty of time to think and consider the matter. Clearing his throat, he offered his explanation, as honestly as he could. 

“I’m not geckin ma’am. I would assume your pilots are quite loyal to your people?” He asked slowly. 

“Every one of them.” She replied without hesitation. 

“I am grateful for your help, but I’m not geckin. There was no plan for me to stay long term. You got me dropped into your lap. This was just an accident, you couldn’t have expected me to stay?” Casper asked, trying to appeal to her common sense. A human to babysit wasn’t exactly a boon to anyone, let alone a government or private organisation that would apparently need to prove he was happy on a regular basis?

Casper wasn’t expecting the cold, sharp, humourless grin to spread across her face. 

“Hmph, quite the contrary. We fought for a sizable number of humans to be provided to the geckin territories.” She explained, almost off handedly. It hadn’t been what Casper had expected her to say in slightest. He frowned, outright confused. 

“What, why? You don’t know us.” He demanded. 

“Politics, as with everything.” She offered, waving her hand as she did. 

“So not the kindness of your heart then?”

That got a snort of derision from the small creature. She leant forward and interlaced her fingers, resting her snout beneath her fingers while staring Casper directly in the eye as she spoke next. 

Her words were low and intense. She believed every word she uttered with every fibre of her being. Casper was certain of that. 

“You are not an idiot so don’t be naive. No. The geckin people are under attack by the cowardly ssypno and their gluttonous nobility. All the while, their queen sits idly while our freedom is crushed within their coils.” The High Commander explained, baring her teeth as she spoke.

“Our very existance is up for debate amongst the high tri-table and we will not merely sit by while the next hunt begins.” She pulled her arms apart, one hand slapping against the table while the other pointed at Casper to emphasise her point. 

“Demanding our fair share to the human population that was being divided amongst the other races was a method of establishing our legitimacy to be sat at the table, as frustrating as it is to have to resort to such methods.” She explained, waving awake the unpleasant concept as if it bothered her like a fly.

Casper blinked, turning over this information in his head.

“Humans were… divided up amongst the other races?” He asked. 

“Yes. Humans have captured the hearts and minds of every race across the stars. The general populace of every sentient race demand we ‘save’ you.” The geckin snorted. “I will be blunt as there is no harm in being honest at this point.”

She paused, but Casper gave her every ounce of his attention. This was not knowledge that was available to him. He needed to hear this. The High Commander locked eyes with the human and spoke with conviction. 

“I do not care if your people die. But while you’re alive, you are the perfect tool for my people. A shield to aggression. No ssypno force, noble or royal, would *dare* attack a base, city or maybe even planet if there was a single human present.” The High Commander revealed, shocking Casper to his core. He felt his lips part, as if to retort, but no words came out. 

“You’re the perfect shield.” She pointed out as if the sky was blue and water was wet. 

Casper turned this concept over in his head as he considered this from every angle. He was staring at the wood grain of the table, but wasn’t seeing it. 

Until he made the connection, and looked back up at her. 

“But now I want off the planet.” He pointed out. 

“So we will lose control of you and lose your protection.” She finished. Almost smug in that Casper had to have had this information explained. She was not talking as if she was in a poor position. Why? What was giving her this confidence? 

“Why do I feel you have another card up your sleeve?” He asked. 

“An odd saying, but yes, my tail has yet to fall off.” She retorted. She paused, and allowed Casper a time to stay there, in his ignorance. Qik also said nothing, but was still avidly watching her. The lopel eyes intense and serious. 

Eventually, the geckin spoke again. 

“I wonder… How will the many bleeding hearts of the galaxy feel ‘if’ or rather, ‘when’, the ssypno forces fire on a human?” The geckin tilted her head.  “We will record and present every moment of your operation. Success or failure, we remove at least some of their forces from the board and weaken the ssypno’s desire to fight.”

The wicked grin returned as the High Commander leaned forward, pressing her fingertips and claws into the table, leaving curled wood at the end of new grooves in the priceless wood. 

“The ssypno people will see their nobility attacking their precious humans and revolt. That… is the value you hold.” The High Commander concluded, grinning and licking her absent lips. 

Casper had no retort, nothing he could say. He would be used regardless of his actions. Qik however, didn’t care. A job was a job and the sooner she and the human completed it, the sooner they could get to the other side the spiral. 

“Fascinating as it is, can we finalise the contracts?” Qik asked disinterestedly, suspending her hand in the air as if offering a solution. The High Commander affixed a ‘smile’ across her features while the rest of the geckins remained perfectly impassive. Casper didn’t like it immediately and the hairs on the back of his neck all slowly raised on end. 

The only exception to this and seemingly oblivious to the ongoing power players, was Zeet who immediately piped up and began to present his PDA, turning it briefly.

“Oh! Yes! I have some marvellous plans for you to-”

“Zeet. Shut.” The High Commander demanded. Zeet paused immediately, returning to his chair and hiding the screen from view. Qik narrowed her eyes, glancing from Zeet, back to the High Commander.

“Something you’re not telling us?” She asked, obviously sensing the same issue Casper was. The High Commander acted surprised and grinned again. 

“Oh no. You will deploy as you have done in the past with your equipment.” She offered. Qik outright frowned and her voice dropped an octave. 

“...What of Casper’s rig?” She demanded, deadly serious. 

“Casper doesn’t own a rig.” The High Commander offered, seemingly confused as to why Qik would ask. . 

“How do you expect him to fight?” The lopel asked, audibly speaking through clenched teeth.

“I suppose we could…  supply a firearm, for free.” The purple and black striped geckin offered pleasantly, as if that was reasonable or acceptable. 

Qik was on her feet in an instant, hands on the table, looming over the geckins as best she could.

“This will be a breach of contract, under the ‘unreasonable’ clauses!” She announced, pointing down at the table and punctuating her words. Casper merely sat back and let her work. The geckin merely shrugged, unphased by the lopel’s display. 

“We would contest any claim, but we… being reasonable, are willing to offer an amendment to Casper’s contract.” The High Commander offered, leaning back and spreading her hands and arms out, as if a benevolent trader.

The room went still and the temperature dropped. 

“What kind?” Qik asked in a calm, steady voice. Too calm. Too steady. She was on edge.

“We will provide a mech of high quality, free of charge until the completion of the operation and contract.” The geckin offered calmly. Everyone waited for the other shoe to drop. 

“What for?” Casper asked. Qik glanced in his direction, but otherwise kept her eyes on the geckin, who was now pointedly ignoring the lopel.

“Hmmm, you’re certainly not a simple feral creature like some suggest. There will be a clause that is in our favour.” She admitted. 

“What is it?” He asked. The High Commander leaned back and glanced to her left, Casper and Qik’s right. To Wren. The biologist who had been caring for Casper since the beginning. She hadn’t done a great job, but the young man couldn’t fault her attempts to ensure he was okay.

Wren spoke calmly in a practised manner. She seemed to recite her words from memory, rather than form them on the fly.

“In the event of the need to eject the pilot casket, the operation is declared over and the loaned mech and all its contents and components are the property of the XixTech organisation.” The green geckin concluded before sitting back down and going silent. She too, adopted a haughty expression, lifting her muzzle slightly and staring Casper down somewhat. 

It honestly didn’t seem like much of an issue. It wasn’t his mech, he’d get his own rig later. Casper breathed in to dismiss and accept the terms, he had no want to take their property, but stopped when Qik’s hand grabbed his thigh. 

He glanced over to her as she spoke without breaking eye contact with the High Commander.

“All components?” The lopel demanded.

“Quite.” A nod. 

“No deal.”

Casper blinked, turning to Qik. 

“What? I can’t fight on foot! I need that rig.” He demanded, thinking about fighting tanks on foot with a single rifle! Qik or no, he’d more likely fall and blow his own head off than destroy a damned tank!

Qik’s expression when she turned to him gave him pause however. Without waiting, she spoke and explained in a slow, clam voice. Devoid of emotion. 

“Casper, the pilot in the casket, is included in this.” 

Wait.

“If you need to eject, then XixTech will, literally, own you.” Qik concluded. 

Wren cleared her through before speaking as everyone turned to her. 

“More specifically, as their representative; I will own you.”

Casper frowned, seeing the green doctor in a new light. 

“Why?” He asked, confused as to why she’d go this route. If she had asked for anything, he’d likely have just given it to her. She needn’t of gone this way. 

“Ignoring that I don’t need to answer that, we can learn more from you.” She began, coolly. “From your connection to the machine to how you handle the load. I hasten to add, it need not be a bad life, you could work *with* me in researching this.”

Casper said nothing, she continued.

“Or I could put your brain in a jar and ask you questions where you are devoid of distractions like light or sound. I would reward cooperation with stimulation. Otherwise it would be a perfect void for you.”

The green geckin shrugged. 

“Either way works for me.”

The lopel stood and swiped her hand through the air, dismissing the whole geckin side. 

“No deal. My company is on their way, they will have several things to say about this coercion.” She warned before turning and breathing in to speak with Casper, but was cut off by the High Commander.

“So be it, but you’re not being asked here.” The purple and black geckin turned to the human and pointedly asked; “Casper? Your choice. Freedom, with the chance of failure, or stay here as our permanent resident. We will offer you opportunities to pilot mechs, albeit under our direct control.”

The High Commander turned back to the lopal, although still spoke to Casper. 

“We have learnt from our mistakes with our dear Qik here.”

Qik raised her hand, her fingers splayed and brought her palm down in a vertical swipe, holding it in place as if to highlight her words. 

“Casper, don’t. There's another way.”

The young man doubted it. The geckins were too sure, the contracts seemed too tight. 

“Is there?” He asked. 

“The company has lawyers, these idiots aren’t the first to try and strong arm a deal.” She offered. The geckin High Commander retorted again, with an almost gleeful tone.

“No, but we are the first with a human. We checked, your laws are fantastically logical and detailed. It even lists the species… unfortunate ‘human’ is not included.” The finished with a sharp grin.

“They’ve got us cornered.” Casper pointed out.

“No, theres another way.” Qik said, her eyes almost frantic as she mentally searched for an out, finding none. 

“Qik.”

“No, just… give me a sec.”

“Qik do you trust in your training?” Casper asked quietly. 

“What?” The lopel asked, glancing up at him. He was still sat in his chair as she stood over him. Her fur was beautiful and shiny. He didn’t want to cause her distress, but there wasnt a way out here.

“Do you trust in what you’ve taught me? Could I survive in a fight?” He asked pointedly. 

Qik said nothing, searching his face for something. He smiled and shook his head.

“I’m not trying to trick you. Just honesty.” He pressed. 

She grimaced and wore a tight smile. 

“I’ve taught you all I can. Everything else comes from experience.” She explained, her shoulders sagging. 

“Like fighting technicals?” He suggested. Qik frowned, then turned to the gathered board of geckins. 

“If… Is it just technicals? By requirements, you need to tell me your intel now.”

One of the side geckins spoke, reviewing a datapad. 

“Only scuttle tanks and stationary emplacements. We need those emplacements destroyed, but we do offer bonuses for every additional unit destroyed. The bigger the better.” He offered. His lighter tone a stark difference to the hard tones of the others. 

“No enemy pilots?” Qik checked. 

“The ssypno are still scrambling after you took out the former ace.” The High Commander offered. Qik turned back to Casper and sighed. 

“I think… You got a good chance.”

Casper merely nodded then turned in his seat to directly address the High Commander.

“I’ll accept the contract if you give me a fighting chance. Give me a good mech and I’ll agree.”

“Deal.”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #rabbit #lopeljack

[jimvasta]

Humans are average at everything

And that makes other species crazy

"You swim well for your limb configuration but you will never be as fast in water as a Majoriranji."

Mo agreed with a nod. "They have fins, it's an unfair contest really."

"Nacbaqurs climb cliffs better than humans."

"Longer limbs, more fingers, that's no surprise. I know some elite climbers who could keep up but mostly ture enough."

"Chexits run much faster."

"Ah," Mo raised a finger. "They run on four legs, different configuration, unfair comparison. "

"My point is still valid. And you don't fly either."

"Mmm, no," Mo stopped to consider that one. "I don't think we have a winged ancestor. I have been sky diving, though, so I'm sure we missed out there."

"Sky diving? No, I have no wish to know. My question is this, why are you so feared? You cannot swim like a Majoriranji, or climb like a Nacbaqur, or run like a Chexit. Can you do anything special? Why should anyone be scared of humans?"

"Is that why you captured us? That's what you want to know?" Mo smiled as he leaned back in his chair. He had been afraid. Now he was amused.

He knew rescue was on the way. Just before the invaders managed to grab him and the other researchers, they were able to send a distress call. The Earth Alliance took attacks on their people seriously, they knew swift responses discouraged casual piracy.

"Okay, you'll probably be dead soon anyway so I'll give you a freebie. We're not the fastest swimmers, but most of us can swim and dive, and we can all hold our breath. We're not the fastest climbers, but our ancestors lived in trees, tall canopy plants, we can all climb. We're not the fastest runners, but we're not bad in a sprint, and we'll still be going hours after your fancy fast runners have collapsed and died of exhaustion. We don't have to be the best at one thing when we can be pretty good at just about everything."

#humans are space orcs #haso #writer #writers on tumblr #humans are space australians #humans are joats #jack of all trades

[cuprohastes]

The humans said "We sent our very best to the stars."

Well we looked at what they sent: And thought, if that's their best, what are their worst like? They were scavengers and opportunists, fast talking con artists, barely restrained psychopaths with mayhem on their mind.

Honestly we were expecting the worst: That 'human' would be a curse word, that we'd have to root them out painfully and banish them back to their dirty heavy world.

But they cleaned up Antichor. They dredged the oceans, got the ecosystem back up, cleaned the mine lakes, remediated the sludge swamps, turned the hulks into gleaming ingots.

"We knew how. We had the experience." They said.

The humans started showing up in the weirdest places. Conflicts of all sorts... and they always had questions. "Why are you doing this? What if tehy did this. What if you did that?" And it was so odd - Within weeks of the Humans showing up, common ground would be found, or reasons to get along would appear.

"Well, we're used to it. We know how to deal with conflict." They said.

And the human liars, dressed in bedazzling clothes, singing and laughing... They spun lies! For entertainment! Of better worlds, and drama, of excitement, of adventure. Thay made such spectacles - Fire in the sky of a thousand colours - smoke and lasers, costumes and music, feats of synchronised movement the Civil Worlds had barely imagined could be performed by any being let lone these strange humans...

"We know how to have a good time!" They said.

When there was a nasty little war of expansion over on the Veran worlds, we thought we'd be barely in time to document the mass graves and the scraps of planetary genocide. Expansion wars are the worst of crimes but what can you do? The settlers who are squatting on the graves of the people who came before aren't usually the ones who ordered the invasion or carried it out. And there's always some justification that can be argued over for centuries: none of which brings the dead back.

We were horrified to find the Human fleet there. Finally proof that the Humans were the worst sort of mercenary.

But the ships had aid: Shelters and food. Medical personnel. And those that did fight did so under strange rules that allowed for surrenders and retreats in good faith.

The Verans talked of the Arnath Invasion fleet: Unstoppable, claiming thier worlds before they even landed, their leaders ranting and cursing those who lived there - But then the Humans arriving like heroes of legend, in flame clad dropships, spending their lives hard, making the Arnath throw incredible effort to get nowhere... Of the mighty Rangers, each one a hero. The Bulwark infantry who wouldn't yield a single step until the civilians had been evacuated. The Medical teams as caring as any, who'd stand and fight as hard as a soldier to protect their patients.

And even before we arrived, the Arnath were losing - Humans arriving on their world and asking "Why?". Arguing with the Archons with the skill of philosophers, litigating on behalf of the Verans with cunning arguments. The clowns and entertainers with unexpected savagery, showing the population their own "heroic" soldiers burning crops and firing on children, turning the population against thier bloody handed leaders.

The soldiers returning, not hailed as heroes, their crimes documented.

"We know these crimes. We won't stand for them." The humans said.

And we started to wonder... what else did they know?

What we know now is... you can always ask the Humans, because they always send their best.

#humans are space orcs #haso

[nerdybluephoenix]

Alien crew: *busy with work*

Human crew member: *bursts in, visibly shaking* Did you guys know that humans can overdose on caffeine, around 40 cups of coffee? My record is 14 cups!

Alien: And what are you on now?

Human: 11 cups! I'm gonna break my record today!

Alien: *takes mug from their hands* No, you're not

#I was thinking of making a comic of this #but in case I abandon the project here's a text post version! #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #aliens #space orcs #haso #haso artist #art #haso writer

[lunaiz4-misc]

By the time the humans invented wireless Internet, the aliens had already been monitoring the RF bands on and in the vicinity of Earth for decades. Well, they didn't have decades - that was a human concept - but many full orbits of the little blue planet around its yellow star.

The packet encryption broke easily when subjected to advanced computing techniques, and soon they were able to pick up, decode, and even send information on the "world wide web." Wary of being detected, they were careful to limit their queries, but even a severely restricted ability to actually *ask questions* made the xenoscience division go starry-eyed.

Their excitement was short-lived, however, as the screen displayed a message that chilled them to their cores: "to continue, please prove you are a human."

#HASO #short story #humans are space orcs

[lovelesslittleloser]

Tbh this has been on my mind for MONTHS

Human codes… but they’re not actually codes??

A small group of humans is discovered by some curious aliens. Both sides can assume that the other is sentient. The aliens are trying to translate the humans’ language to their own, and the humans are trying to learn the aliens’ language. But since humans are tricky, they’ve decided that they don’t want the aliens to know their language, so they can have secret conversations.

So they go a little crazy. With written words, they randomly use lowercase and capital letters, even using numbers and symbols, and use a lot of slang, occasionally using words incorrectly on purpose. They’ll jumble the words a bit so that only human brains can guess their meaning (that thing where if you use all the letters and put the proper letters at the beginning and end it’ll be comprehensible), and even use additional or unofficial languages (commonly known words like ‘hola’, ‘si’, ‘oui’, etc, and piglatin, in which you typically take the first letter or syllable of a word, place it at the end, and add ‘ay’ to the end).

As for spoken words, they will do a bit of the above, mashing languages and slang, perhaps mispronouncing a few things, and quoting memes, vines, movies, and even singing parts of songs to throw off the aliens. Perhaps they will say something with a somber meaning in a joyful way to throw off the meaning, or even just naturally (‘I wanna die!’ ‘Mood’), or vice versa.

Additionally, there would have to be a TON of body language. Maybe even sign language, should they know any. Gestures and expressions, eyebrow wiggles and poorly-hidden grins. Ah, the beauties of communication.

#I’m sure there’s more #please add more #aliens #humans #humans are space orcs #haso #humans are space fae #humans are space raccoons #humans are space orcs prompts #humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are terrifying #language #communication #lingustics #? I hope this counts as linguistics?? #I’ve had this in my head for an unwritten fic I’ve abandoned before its birth #just humans being clever little pricks #aliens: hello humans! we wish to communicate! please speak as you naturally would! #human: ouldshay eway unray? #other human: *offended look* Bethany. I made BISCUITS *subtle gesturing to alien food* #another human: if I stay there will be trouble~ and if I go there will be double~ so I gotta gotta know~ should I stay or should I go #alien: are we sure these are all the same species? because I’m fairly sure they’re all speaking different languages

[sporksaber]

I feel like there's something to be done with humans are space orcs/earth is a deathworld content and opportunistic diets. And obligate diets too.

Obligate diets mean they have to eat somthing because it's the only thing that provides the nutrients they need. Cats are obligate carnivores. They need meat and almost entirely meat to meet their nutritional needs. Any plant matter they eat is for other purposes, like digestion or getting high.

Wolves a facultative carnivores. They are carnivores, they need mostly meat to survive, but they'll eat fruit and other plant matter given the opportunity and gain nutritional value from it. They will always choose meat given the option.

Dogs are omnivores. When they were domesticated they evolved to line up more with the human diet. They need meat as well as vegetables and starches.

Then there's opportunistic carnivores (the most fun one). Herbivores who will eat meat given the chance. This famously includes horses (horses love corpses). They do not need it at all, but they can digest it and will definitly eat it. I've seen some people who have horses claim that some of them gain a taste for meat and seek it out. This label also includes deer, goats, cows, and hippos. (Also pandas, but like, that's kinda expected.)

I feel like it can be twisted in a lot of ways for wtf alien reactions. I also find if really interesting that there are no 100% one way or another mammals.

#haso #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #also i think if hippos were brought to america like it was talked about in the 1900s theyd have eaten a lot of people #they already kill a lot of people and eat a lot of animals during migration season #warning tourists beware of hippos

[not-an-alien-scientist]

Human: Hi Buddy!! AWWW DRAGON! COME ON DRAGON!! *gives all the pets*

Alien: ..... that is a carnivore that can bite at 1,100 psi force .... why are you calling it buddy

Human: Oh hooo hoo what is that *scritches* huh?

Hyena: *jumps*

Alien: *alarmed* !!!!!!

Human: >:( no you can't have the camera

#youtube #spotted hyena #hyena #animals #friend shaped #pack bonding #earth is weird #humans are weird #haso #humans are space orcs #earth is a deathworld #THESE LIK GUYS LAUGH LIKE CRAZY BY THE WAY #LIKE IMAGINE LISTENING TO A HAPPY HYENA (snickering) HAPPY FOX (laughing like they told a bad joke) AND #A RELAXED CHEETAH (purring with the teenieist cutest meows) #and theyre all fucking ferocious carnivores #and tell me its not weird AF #one hell of a house party tho #original posting

[marlynnofmany]

Nothing like putting together a quick series recap for the Patreon revival to make you realize there's a lot more of something than you thought.

Seventy short stories in the Token Human series. Seventy! How did that happen?

Yadda yadda once again baffled by basic things like math and the passage of time. Apparently these things happen when you write a story a week for the better part of two years.

#that's nuts I say #way more than I thought I've written #gonna put 'em all in the free tier #for easy reference #and then write more #and who knows where this adventure is headed #but I look forward to the trip #The Token Human #Patreon #going live on May 1st! #very excited! #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #and other such tags

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 11

“I am not one for politics. They make my scales itch.” Bemoaned Zeet as he walked ahead of Qik and Casper. His mobile platform moved and wandered without input from him as he stood upon it, grimacing at the two larger creatures. They had just left the boardroom where Casper had potentially just signed his body away if this went wrong. 

“I would have thought we would have got more usable data from you by informing you and letting you just *work* with us.” The blue geckin continued, musing out aloud. Casper couldn’t help but grin widely, pleased by the geckin’s seemingly honest distaste for the situation. 

Zeet was an engineer. A nerd. A geek, through and through. He cared about the machines he designed and made. The plots and schemes of others mattered little to him as long as they didn’t cross his wants and desires to improve on his designs. The geckin made an odd croaking throat noise. Casper spoke up.

“Let them work themselves into an early shed then, me and you are going to make a mech that’ll go down in history.” The young man offered, hoping to caress the geckin’s ego.

Qik grinned as well as he did when he blatantly hit his mark perfectly. 

“You think?! Oh! Oh ho ho ho! Just think! First ‘no drift’ pilot in one of *my* machines making headlines. But we need you to succeed. Fame goes both ways, ah?” Zeet pointed out, before adopting a focused look, crossing his arms and touching a finger to his mouth. The two far larger creatures shared a glance as both of them felt themselves disappear to the geckin’s perspective. 

“You’ll need survivability…” Zeet mumbled to him. “Heavy is always best for survivability, but it means taking the hits. Your agility shouldn’t be slept on. Light is just as good, if you don’t get hit.” The geckin snapped his head around to Casper.

“You stopped getting hit all the time?” The tiny creature demanded.

“What do you mean ‘all the time’? She got me *once*!” Casper shot back, thrusting a thumb sideways at Qik who remained silent, although her strut became more pronounced as they discussed her ‘perfect’ kill shot.

Zeet merely grinned at Casper and he was reminded that a grin from a geckin was *not* the same as a human grinning. Zeet was admonishing the human, not sharing in a joke.

“Once was enough. If we capitalise on your speed, you will be light, but weak; you will not survive errant hits! Anything above superficial damage could disable your points or even your whole rig if it’s a bad hit!” The geckin hissed. 

“I was showboating.” Admitted Casper. “I let my guard down. My fault. I won’t jeopardise your work again.” The human spoke seriously and with respect at the older engineer who squinted at him as the walking platform approached a door that slid aside without hesitation. The geckin waved a hand, dismissing the thought, seemingly satisfied with Casper’s devoted tone.

The group entered a room that was quite obviously Zeet’s workshop. Ignoring that it looked down on a hanger bay with a skeleton of a rig hanging in the centre, as Casper looked around the room, he learnt of Zeet’s personality. Messy, but devoted.

Mech and rig designs covered an entire wall which was dominated as a workboard. Pens, stylises and measuring tools were scattered everywhere. A large 3D printer squatted in one corner and was covered in tiny, intricate models of various shapes and sizes. Some were of arms and legs of disembodied mechs, and others were tiny replicas of the whole thing.

“Huh… I think you’d get along with some of us humans.” Casper mentioned, crouching to observe the intricate details of one particular model. It was beautifully designed all the way down to sleek lines showing where the various bolts would connect armour plates together.

“After yourself, I would very much like to meet more humans. I suspect if I could get my claws into one that had a history in mech design, fictional or not, we might share ideas…” Zeet offered before clapping his hands and holding them out in front of him, pointing his claws at Casper, drawing attention to himself.

“*But!* We need to design you a machine that will put us both in the history books and… *Not* leave you at the hands of the XixTech corpo-nation.” Declared Zeet, Casper nodding along until his brain caught up to the sentence.

“Wait… ‘Corpo-Nation’?” He asked, standing up again.

“Mm, they represent the eastern continental landmass on Bok. Our homeworld. They are their government representatives.” Explained Zeet matter-of-factly. Casper merely blinked, once again reminded this was not kansas. 

“Jesus… Yeah, let's not get dropped into that mess.” The young man agreed, already feeling his head spin. Qik settled herself, leaning against a wall, arms crossed as was her usual stance. Casper sat against the window frame with his back to the hanger below.

“So!” Zeet began. “Torso, Head, Arms, Legs and a Spinal mount. These are your rig’s modifiable options.” Zeet explained, turning to open a large cabinet where he produced three glasses. One tiny, the other two perfectly sized for Casper and Qik. The human glanced at the bottle of dark liquid, then to Qik who touched a long finger against her lips. She didn’t want him to ruin this. 

Zeet poured three healthy portions before taking a sip and giving a satisfied sigh, then continuing. 

“I already know what I’m doing for your chest, you don’t get a vote there.” He explained, swiping his hand through the air. Qik cleared her throat as she leaned in to pick up a spare glass.

“What’s your idea?” She asked calmly, seemingly trusting his good sense. 

“Maximum output. Heavier as an option, more so than an ultralight, but I think the way he modifies his output, it’ll be worth it.” Zeet explained, swirling the glass.

“I modify my output? What do you mean?” Casper asked, frowning somewhat. This apparently was an odd question. 

“Wha- My boy… You… It’s not a conscious decision? To pulse your power generation?” Zeet asked, seemingly very confused. Casper pulled a face and shrugged before reaching over and picking up the third and final glass. Taking a sip, it was like paint stripper with a smokey burn afterwards.

“Your power generation is not efficient, or it shouldn’t be! Your reactors ‘pulse’ instead of giving out a steady or constant amount. We thought it was a fault at first until the second and third time it happened. Every rig you hop in, it pulses.” Zeet explained shrugging his arms in defeated confusion, nearly, but not quite spilling his drink.

“Is it dangerous?” Qik asked, narrowing her eyes, but sipping at her own glass, it looked comically small in her hands. Zeet shook his head, sipping at his drink, a tiny red tongue dabbing at the murky liquid. 

“I don’t think so, although it was far, far faster when you took that hit.” The geckin conceded, pointing a finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Was it like a heartbeat?” Asked Casper, following a hunch. Zeet shook his head again, the corners of his mouth pulling up as if Casper had asked the same question as him.

“No. We thought so too, but it was too slow.” The geckin dismissed, looking into his glass with a contemplative frown. Unconvinced, Casper waited a second, considering what it could have been before getting an idea. Without speaking, Casper knocked his knuckles against the wall he was leaning on. Thump thump. Pause. Thump thump. Pause. The reaction was immediate, the engineer's feet jumping up in unison and briefly leaving the walking platform he stood upon as he pointed and did briefly spill his drink this time. . 

“Yes! That! That’s it! Two pulses and a pause. We racked our brains trying to figure that out!”

Casper merely smiled knowingly, closing his eyes and opening them again before speaking, pleased to have an answer for the older geckin.

“That’s *my* heartbeat Zeet.” Tapping his chest with his glass. ”Bigger heart, slower rhythm.” The young man explained. The tiny geckin stood there, motionless for a time. Before closing his eyes and placing his own drink down on the table.

“Your heartbeat. *Your*! Heartbeat. Argh! Rocks in my brain! Terminal rocks!” Zeet exclaimed, causing both Casper and Qik to grin as an apparent mystery was solved for him. The poor geek looked genuinely annoyed as he glared at the ceiling.

“So it’s not an issue?” Asked Qik.

“Huh! Hardly. It means he doesn’t run hot, but has access to power when he needs it. Works well with the rest of my plans.”

“Go on, you’ve ideas, I’m listening.” Casper said, grimacing as he slugged another mouthful of the drink down. It seemed to burn less with the third gulp. 

“Chest we go for power. Your spine mount, I suggest an advanced booster. It does mean you’re more vulnerable. One hit to your back and you’ve lost your main defence; not being where they fired at.” The geckin suggested, shrugging with the admission. 

“I mean if we’re engaging at range, I can move out of the way of the rounds, right?” Casper offered, looking to Qik for confirmation. She pulled a face and shook her head, her ears flopping with the movement. 

“Two problems with that; unreliable reactions and no one uses slug rounds anymore.” She explained. Casper frowned, specifically remembering a fairly solid round tearing through his chest not less than 24 hours ago. 

“What do you mean? The geckins do?” He pointed out, rudely pointing at Zeet who could care less as he tilted his head back, finishing off his own glass. He spoke next, pulling Casper’s attention. 

“We’re an exception, not a rule. The ursidains also use solid projectiles, but only when they’re firing a heavy hitter. Energy weapons are the name of the game these days. Most see solid projectiles as ‘old’, in the sense of ‘museum piece’ old.” Zeet offered honestly. 

Casper thought that was strange, solid projectiles were reliable, but this wasn’t his world. This was a galaxy in a vastly different period of their history than Earth was. He shook his head to clear his mind. 

“Okay fine, keep mobile. What about arms and legs? What about weapons?” He pressed, almost looking forward to hearing what toys Zeet was offering. 

“Legs wise, again, I’d go for speed. Extra vents for additional jet exhausts. Rather than running, you’ll end up ‘skating’ around the enemy. Good luck keeping up with you. You’ll need it too.” Zeet offered.

“Are the enemies quick?” Casper asked. 

“Fairly. Spider-Technicals.” Qik responded. 

“What are they?”

“Heavy armour, focused laser beam for their main cannon. Prolonged targeting will thermal shock the armour that gets hit, burrowing through whatever it's shooting at. The tanks are mobile, capable of keeping line of sight on their target and climbing up and around buildings to do so. The intention is to have a small army of them and they just overwhelm any target that approaches.” The lopel explained, polishing off her own glass and gesturing with her hands, as if she were spreading a model army out in front of her.

“So keep circling them?” Casper suggested.

“And they’ll have to track you. We keep you light and mobile, they focus on you…” Qik went on, trailing off to allow Casper to finish the thought. 

“...And you take them out while their back is turned.” The young man concluded, nodding at the idea. He could be bait, he didn’t even have to fight. Just wave his arms in the air and keep their attention. 

“He’s a fast learner.” Zeet pointed out, nodding to Casper but looking to Qik. She merely grinned and returned to her ‘arms crossed’ posture, smugness radiating off her.

“Thanks to his teacher.” 

Zeet was less than sure. 

“Mm. Sure.” He blinked slowly and turned his head back to the huma before opening them again. “Arms wise, we have options.“

“I did consider a plasma thrower, but it's heavy and drains a lot of power during charge up. Good against another mech, less so for tanks. We have similar options like sniper beams, but same thing. Line of sight and you’d need to be still.”

“So what would you suggest?”

“If we are going with this plan, we should actually keep you lightly armed. How do you feel about a solid sword?”

“Solid? But what about my lightsaber!”

“No, too draining. If we’re keeping you as fast as we intend, we need you using 100% of your reactor’s output. A solid sword, atomised edge, you’ll still be dangerous. Lightweight metal, no drain on your resources, there's no downsides besides no range. But that's not an issue this time.”

“Atomised edge?” Casper asked, just checking for clarification. Zeet nodded and hastened to explain before moving on. 

“An edge a few atoms thick. Blunts faster, but realistically, this is a blitz, you’re not going to be out there long enough to need to worry about that.”

“What could I cut through?”

“Anything with enough force behind your swing. Do *not* touch the edge with any part of yourself.” The geckin demanded with a serious tone and an accusing finger. Casper held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Yes sir.”

Zeet merely nodded. Qik remained quietly thinking as she scratched her own chin.

“So, speed, speed, speed?” Casper summarised.

“Quite so. Qik, I trust you will just select your weapons as normal?” Zeet asked, turning to the lopel as he sat himself in a chair. The merc merely nodded and lay her palm up as if presenting her idea.

“I’m going for a swarm missile rig. If it’s just technicals, I don’t need anything else.” She explained with a carless shrug. 

“Swarm missile?” Casper prodded. 

“Line of sight lock on, you fire the swarm and they fire up into the air before raining down on the tanks. Doesn’t matter if they’re crawling on or around buildings. They’ll punch through their armour. The downside is I need to see them to lock on, which sucks when LOS works both ways.” Qik went on, but then leaned forward to emphasize her words. . 

“Buuut…” She drawled. 

“But if they’re looking at me, that doesn’t matter.” Casper replied, grinning back at the lopel. She held his gaze a moment longer than needed before straightening and giving him her approval. 

“Attaboy.”

Casper considered his options, and turned back to Zeet. 

“So a sword? Nothing else?” He asked. 

Zeet, his hands on his head, turned the chair to face the larger human. 

“Did you have something else in mind?”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #human #cuddleverse #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #rabbit #lopeljack

[jimvasta]

Hangry Humans

As per standard operational procedure, we spent some time observing the Humans before we moved in.

It was identified early on that they stop work for meals three times a day and often have small amounts of food between these meals while they work. This is a common enough occurrence in many species who graze throughout their day cycle and was taken note of, again as per regulations.

We waited until the soldier caste humans were gone and swiftly incapacitated the remaining research caste via the standard electrical field interference method. We included in our observations the speed at which the humans recover from this, it is far faster than most and almost caught us out.

Then we moved the humans to our remote holding pens, providing what shelter they required and, as per passifying technique protocols, restricted their meals to once per day.

We have never had this technique fail. Keeping captives weak to prevent escape is a common method utilised for all grazing type species.

After several days we, foolishly, believed the humans would be docile enough to allow for close quarter testing.

We entered their holding pen with the standard protective equipment and when we were rushed we attempted to utilise the electrical stun weapons, but we could not prevent them from overwhelming us.

I must report that our survival was purely down to the humans choosing to spare us because we were more interesting alive than dead. They even told us why they were so determined to escape and from this I must update the standard protocols to form an exception in interactions with humans.

Do not, under any circumstances, deny a human their regular meals. Far from making them docile, it instead places them in a heightened state of aggression, the term for which is hangry.

#haso #humans are space orcs #space australia #writers on tumblr #don't make humans hangry

[thedragonboi]

Humans evolved to be friend!!!

Probably stupid but hear me out:

• We try to pet/make friend with everything

• several different species are documented to have raised abandoned/lost humans (famously wolves, but monkeys, parrots, cats and more have raised humans)

• animals that can harm/kill us typically leave us alone (cougars don’t tend to attack unless there’s kittens around, black bears are small but they can 100% kill you if they wanted but they just kinda go away, orcas are smart enough and big enough to hunt us if they wanted to but there’s 0 wild cases of death by orca)

• there are species that are so chill with humans they literally domesticated themselves

• humans get an oxytocin boost when we see cute things, we want to be friend!!!! (Cute is subjective, some people see bugs as creepy some see bugs as friend, there’s always someone who sees something as friend!!)

• we don’t have the best natural defence or offence meaning we ride a lot on “you don’t bother me I don’t bother you” cause idk about you but I got nothing if a horse decides it’s my time to go (yeah we can build armor and weapons but we have to actively make and use them, we don’t come ready made with a suit of metal armor)

In conclusion, I’m very convinced that if we find sentient alien life either they’d find us non threatening at worst, actively adorable and cuddly at best

#humans are space orcs #humans are space friend #humans are space oddities #haso #aliens

[nerdybluephoenix]

#i was laying awake past midnight and thought of this #sketched it up in 30 min #now will go back to sleep #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #aliens #space orcs #haso #haso artist #art #haso writer #comic

[cuprohastes]

To kill a human

It was Sqrnix eve and the Thotari Assassins had gathered for crottled greebs, and Karaoke.

Though they didn't feel like their usual darkly cheerful selves: They'd made the mistake of accepting a contract on a human.

First Blade muttered, "They're impossible! I poured so much poison into his drink! It should have ripped the water from his cells, and split his tissues!"

Second Blade added despondently, "I tried poison too! Rakandi dust in his food. At first, I thought it had lost it's potency, but then I saw him shaking more onto his meal! It should have burned him form the inside out!"

Third Blade peeled a tentacle from the crottle greebs off her face. "Pfah, you're telling me! After watching you two, I tried a bitter alkaloid from the creature's own home world, boiled into a foul brew - I didn't even try, I just handed the thing the bowl."

Fourth Blade noted, "I'm kind of seeing a theme here. I tried an acidic compound because at that point I'd just made a bet with Garki that the human would just gobble it down."

The other three looked at her.

"What? It's not like you had any luck!"

Meanwhile Dave the Human was writing a review of his stay:

"Locals very friendly. Last night they made me a pitcher of cocktails, brought me a really interesting curry, and then in the morning got me some coffee and aspirin. Four stars. Minus one star because the crottled greebs snuck into my room and ate my bootlaces."

#HASO #Humans are space orcs #crottled greebs #Dave the human

[lunaiz4-misc]

Baubles

"Human, what is the purpose of the head covering you are wearing?"

"This? It's a hat, it keeps my head warm."

"Yes, I understand that, but why does it have a ball of strings on the top?"

"Oh, that? It's called a bauble, or a pom-pom. They're mainly used for decoration, but I've heard they originated with sailors, who used them as a sort of sensory extension so they'd know when they were about to hit their heads."

"That is BRILLIANT. Can you show me how to make one?"

"You knit?"

"Sure! Loads of us do! Knitting is one of the most basic ways of turning fiber into cloth, most sapient species have something like it. Show me how to make this 'bauble.'"

*a few weeks later*

"Do you like it?"

"Um... yeah, it's great. You really like baubles, huh?"

"I love them. I posted a tutorial video online, it's well on its way to being the new fashion."

"That's... great bud. Good for you."

#HASO #humans are space orcs #knitting #baubles #pom poms #alien fashion #short story #doodle