Challenge #02951-H028: This is a Knife
The man who sleep with a machete is a fool every night but one – Anon Guest
Weapons in bed are generally a bad idea. Especially sharp, bladed weapons. Sleep is an activity where the body is moving about without complete conscious control. Many an alleged “tough guy” has fallen victim to the weapon under their pillow. Therefore Human Gar was no fool. Their sleep pod had a holster for ease of access. At camp, the blade was under the bedroll for ease of access.
“Any loadable weapon can run out of ammunition,” Human Gar was fond of saying, “but a blade never runs out of sharp.” In fact, their everyday kit contained a whetstone for that exact purpose. Many an innocent query has had an edge caused by Human Gar maintaining one on their favoured blade. Gar also maintained that a machete had a multitude of versatility to it. Something they frequently proved true on expeditions.
Some laughed at Gar for keeping the blade close at all times. Until the one night when it became a prudent precaution. They had come to survey habitable planets at varying levels, and this one was “only” a Class Three Deathworld. They were doing lots of science, usually from a safe distance. Nevertheless, samples had to be obtained.
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Challenge #02950-H027: For Art’s Sake
They were a rough and ready, “come at me” space marine. They had seen quite a few battles and had the scars to prove it, and won them all. They’d also worked with dozens of races from the roughest deathworlders to the gentlest havenworlders, the perfect person you wanted aboard ship when exploring out on the edge. Yet, each meal break, if they had few other duties, they were unusually quiet. When they moved into their quarters, other than the tools of the trade, their weapons, their livesuits, and their clothing, there was very little outside the bare minimum they really had. Save for one case. One thing that they held close. They rarely ordered anything either other than the minimum requirements they needed for food despite best efforts to encourage them to treat themselves better. It was only when there was an accident, the special case they carried falling to the ground breaking open revealing colored pencils and beautiful drawings of many worlds and many races, did the inner soul of this otherwise gruff individual show. And it was breathtaking. – Dreamer
Humans have a word for it, because of course they do. They call the collection of lifestyle choices of Human Rye spartan. After a famous, historical tribe of warriors who were trained to need only the barest essentials. Human Rye kept to a routine of MRE’s and lo-cost Nutrifood Mealbagz™ for food, only drank water, and owned the minimum mandatory clothing. Dress uniform, livesuit, casual uniform, Skins, and one regulation set of pajamas. She had no picture frames, no mementos, no tchotckes… only a relatively large case that was a vessel for an assortment of non-toxic chemical compounds, according to scans.
It was a case with a lock and, judging by the ‘battle scars’ on its exterior, it was a treasured item. It had been through a lot, and bore the marks. Nevertheless, Human Rye was not inclined to share any of its content with anyone else. Its purpose was a mystery to the rest of the crew.
Human Rye did make friends and pack-bond, but it was in the process of work. Everything was work, with no room to play. On their mandatory breaks, Rye would retreat to her room and, judging by the complete silence within, do absolutely nothing in there. They didn’t question it, not twice. Human Rye was the kind of Human who did their job and did it well, but they weren’t that big on talking.
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Challenge #02948-H025: Mostly Harmless
“Look! I found an actually-harmless creature from the deathworld. It’s so cute. It doesn’t even have a mouth to bite with. I’m taking it home as a pet.”
“That’s a box jellyfish.” – Anon Guest
The creature in the tank pulsed rhythmically and didn’t look dangerous at all. It seemed no more dangerous than a plastic bag. That statement alone should tell everything. Even the most harmless-seeming things from a Deathworld have hidden menace.
“See those tails? The tentacles?” said Human Di. “They’re venomous. Deadliest stingers in the world. These jellyfish drift around until a tentacle comes into contact with something and then they tangle it up and eat it. If the prey’s too big? They kill it anyway. That includes big mammals like me.”
Companion Korrik backed away from the tank. “Oh.” They were lucky they hadn’t tried to pet it. “I was fortunate that I used devices to collect this.”
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Challenge #02946-H023: A Trail a Mile Wide
There were marks on the walls, on the low ceilings in the halls. A picture here, a quick search there, showed that they were the marks left by unprotected human feet. Feet too small to belong to adult humans. While this narrowed the suspects down to two, it also raised the questions of “how did they do it?” and “do I really want to know?” – Anon Guest
In all the known universe, there is little more devastating to an environment than Deathworlder children on a bender. Humans, especially, were notorious. Simple sugars, safe for many Havenworlders, set Human brains metaphorically on fire. Young Humans even more so. This was a small factoid that P'gaff and Thol Party Tours had forgotten, and that the superbly wealthy Deregger failed to pass along.
Thirty unsupervised Human children and a party menu overloaded with simple sugars, and nature had taken its course. The wreckage had rendered the party barge next to uninhabitable. It wasn’t entirely unsalvagable. If all other measures failed, they could trade in what remained for mass credit.
It might be easier to disassemble and re-print the entire vessel, cashing in the excess materials as there would definitely be leftovers. Flum’s job was assessing the cost of each potential solution. Which included the assessment of the Scene, which truly deserved the capital.
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Challenge #02942-H019: A Happy End of a Sad Story
With the adoption of little Bubs that you wrote of back in January, I was wondering, could you tell the Thropori’s viewpoint on this incident? You did such an adorable one in Bub’s view, but what about the ones that adopted her?
https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-02552-f362-find-a-family – Anon Guest
[AN: Ten thousand blessings for providing the link, Nonny. May synchronicity always be in your favour]
Medik Taa'nah had always wanted children. Who knew that the Dereggers had plenty that they didn’t truly want? The revelation was equal parts horrifying and hopeful for others like her around the Alliance. But that came much later. She had tried to remain professional, but no plan ever survives first contact…
She had heard the alert from the kitchen staff of a wild human found in the food stores. Not a surprise, since they’d stopped at a Deregger station. She expected an adult. Desperate, wild-eyed, unbelieving, and untrusting all at once. She did not expect a tiny scrap, starving and filthy, borne in the arms of two kitchen technicians.
Human Bub was like most Deregger ex-patriots. Cautious. Softly-spoken. Monoverbal, at least in the beginning. Uncertain of where she stood. Taa'nah couldn’t not adopt Bub as her own. She got the little girl clean, dressed, and treated for all of her woes. Which were a multitude of nutritional deficiencies and the consequences of extreme neglect.
[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for a link to the rest of this story, and details on how to support this artist. Or visit peakd (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]