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Challenge #02609-G052: To Each Their Aptitude

A Havenworlder version of Sherlock Holmes who is accompanied by a Deathworlder version of John Watson (a human seems logical but a Vorax sounds more interesting) – Mterrazas

The entire Galactic Alliance is large enough for everyone to find their niche. Even the truly bizarre ones like a Havenworlder who finds fascination in solving murders and mysteries. Her name is Aprat Mont. She is a consulting detective and is naturally attracted to anomalous details. Of course, a Havenworlder literally can’t survive everywhere and will find it necessary to have a Deathworlder escort to keep them safe and, in the case of Mont, from blithely walking into hostile territory to ask antagonising questions. This, more or less, explains Vorax U'att Sen.

U'att has long since surrendered to the Vorax title, even though ze is from the Maker Caste and therefore not a Vorax. Things get complicated and most Galactics prefer to make it simple. Calling hirself Maker-Vorax only confused things further, since Maker was also an occupation and ze was an escort-guard and also an assistant. Therefore, ‘Vorax’ was simpler and served the dual purpose of making others back off from any hostility. Keeping up with, and keeping track of Mont was a full-time job that came with a free education.

Which, today, included standing underneath Mont as she scrabbled around some support struts with a grav-reduction net in case she fell. The reptilloid Havenworlder was more absorbed in peering at something up in there than any harm that might come to her if her grip slipped. “Interesting. Interesting. Yes…” She peered down at the lingering blood spatter and back up into the tangle of cables and more support structures. “Tell me, U'att. What travels in a direct line and leaves parts of a cogniscent being in the ceiling works?”

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Challenge #02592-G035: Critical Flaw Located

A: explain to me why again you were fighting?

B: I was getting rusty, I needed someone to spar with.

A: was it necessary to create a hole in the floor?

B: you said it was reinforced! – Anon Guest

Human Sym was embedded in the flooring. Her legs were technically within the floor below, but also tangled up in sensitive, very important, and also more than a little delicate - wiring and equipment. Human Per, her sparring partner, was crouching and blushing nearby.

“We were cleared for recreational simulated combat exercises in this space,” she said. “We didn’t know a flying leap would have this effect.”

“It’s the weighted anklets and bracelets, I’m sure,” said Human Per. “The floors are cleared for us jumping about and wearing livesuits for that, but not powerful actions with extra weight load. Combo of errors on both sides.”

[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 steemit (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]

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Challenge #02537-F347: Many Ways to Pack Bond

The havenworlders hire a human who docks their ship to the havenworlder’s own larger research vessel and uses that for their quarters rather than what the havenworlders have provided. When asked why, the human simply responds “It’s better this way.” But does not care to elaborate. The reason behind the why becomes clear when a havenworlder goes in to bring a gift to the human that has become such a kind friend and asset, when the havenworlder hears horrific screaming coming from the human’s sleeping chamber. Hurrying over, they see the human sitting up, bare in bed, covered in sweat with eyes wide in fear. Once the human has calmed down, they explain to their havenworlder companion about night-terrors, and how some who’ve seen far too much in their life, can suffer from it. – Anon Guest

At first, the crew of the Little Blue Bird thought that Human Pri valued their personal space. The alternate speculation was that Pri was one of those Humans who thrived in their own mess, or their own sense of order, and therefore had to keep everyone else segregated from it. They weren’t expecting a rare mental disorder.

Somnambulism is not a survival trait in environments that require everyone present to leave the airlocks alone. That said, there are similar disorders that can be worse than disturbing for outside viewers. As Byarin found out when they ventured into the docked Human vessel.

Any unfamiliar ground is automatically liminal, especially when it was quiet. Everything is a shell of something unfamiliar. A shape of something that could be, but currently was not. It was a place where Byarin felt compelled to tread carefully, to mind hir step whilst seeking out Human Pri.

[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 steemit (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]

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Challenge #02511-F321: A Pound of Cure

I told you not to come here during New Years but nooooooo “I want to experience the culture there” and now we’re running low on stress relief medication – Anon Guest

“In my defence, the cultural displays looked very pretty and relatively harmless,” said Prrit. Ze was currently huddled under a big, soft blanket and had mufflers over hir tympanum. “They looked so pretty and the music was so nice.”

“Mus–” Human Dee tutted and tisked. “You had the offensensitivity filters on. I keep telling you to read the descriptors. Why didn’t you read the descriptors?”

Now Prrit’s voice was less than an inch tall. “…they were censored for my protection.”

[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 steemit (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]

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Challenge #02506-F316: Put a Saddle On

Havenworlders, depending on where they’re from, are generally small, fairly lightweight, and fragile. On their own homeworlds, they have little to fear. But outside their own homeworlds, there is a vast array of things that can harm them even when just trying to get around. However, one group of Havenworlders find an interesting way to go around the space station without risking getting stepped on, or harmed. They ride on the back of their new, well loved, and very well trained animal they call “Horse.” Humans have to correct them, it’s a Great Dane. Which, some humans admit, is as big as a small horse. – BridgetK

Firrit had a pet. If you could call it a pet. It was also a mount and, in lieu of a friendly Deathworlder escort, a bodyguard and helpmeet for interstellar travel. The animal - and it was definitely an animal - was named Horse. That was, after all, her primary function - to act like a horse for Firrit to ride whenever he went into spaces shared by non-Havenworld species.

As far as names went, it was very serviceable. Horse was well-trained by a different animal handler and had learned some basic GalStand commands and would respond to handling via reins. The extra bulk of Horse’s presence helped other, larger species recognise that -yes- Firrit was there. Or, for some Deathworlders, that Horse was there.

The Human currently paying attention to Horse had lapsed into some primitive mode of communication not easily translated into GalStand or GalSimple by Firrit’s HUD. “Aaaww wookit da cute ol’ puppy… hoozagoopuppyden? Hoozagoopupper? Yoosagoopupper! Yessooiz! Yessooiz!”

[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 steemit (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]

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