u/Quiet-Money7892

Dragon alien: "I..." wheeze "I can't... Do that..." wheeze "anymore!"

Human: "Get your shit together! You are the only artillery we have left and we have twelve more target coords till dawn! Now follow the holo-projector and shoot!"

Da: *Takes a deep breath and spits out a fast ball of plasma that flies away. After short time - a big flaming mushroom appears somewhere on the horizon.* "I am a" *wheeze "*meelee fighter! Is that really neccessary to wheeze... Do this?"

H: "Don't question the authority! Why do you still use meelee? Are you planing to fight tanks with spears?"

Da: "I have a mono-spear!"

H: "Well, too bad you shoot further than you hit, isn't it? Follow the lights, fire!"

Da: *Shoots another plasmoid* "I can't... I... I'm gonna faint! I have never... Shoot so many in one day!"

H: "That happens to all the good men, don't worry."

Da: "I'm not a male... We didn't have males for two thousand years now!"

H: "Fun fact. Almost as fan as this new coords I just got! Now fire!"

Da: *Shoots another charge and falls on her knees.* wheeze "You don't... Even know what it's like... I feel drained... Where is the rest of the team? Why aren't we getting supplies? What are you hiding?!"

H: "Don't think about that. But just for the record - the rest of the boys are now in the jungle, hunting for some food. Our medic is playing Heisenberg with local herbs. When we finish - I'm planning BBQ and you - are the only thing we have to the outguning power. So go and outgun! These coords! Fire!"

Da: *Shoots another ball of plasma and falls on all fours. Green flaming drops - drool from her mouth, melting their way through the dirt.* *wheeze "*Do..." *wheeze "*Will..." wheeze "Will you add that black powder too?"

H: "Of course. By the way - it's my own invention. If we all fall here - noone in the whole Galaxy will ever find out that mixing plack pepper and gunpowder tastes good for your species?"

Da: "No one?"

H: "Not a single soul."

Da: *Stands up and clears her throat.* "Where's the next one?"

A soft purple seedling shows their pet: "This is my Ender of the Universe!"

*Showing a big long lump of hairy flesh.*

Seedling: "It is a young heatslug.*

Human teacher: "What does it do?"

S: "When it's healthy it stays perfectly still and does absolutely nothing!"

H: "Okay? How did your species came in contact with it?"

S: "It used to help us survive cold winters."

H: "By insulation?"

S: "By taking cold from our bodies. It needs cold to live. It's back catches cold and it's bottom radiates heat. Those, who knew how to tame them - conquered those who had to hibernate during winters! When it needs more cold - it bloats up to create more surface and it then stays perfectly still! It will never leave, unless it's too hot! This is mine and my dad has one too... But it won't fit on a ship."

H: "Wait. How big do they get?"

S: "Noone knows. Usually they die when they are too big to cool down... We have legends that there's huge ones somewhere on polar regions but noone have seen them. They are really good at blending in and can't be caught by heatscans, unless from below... But I want mine to grow so big it will cover the whole school!"

H: "And I thought that snake pets were strange."

---

Young dragon-like cub: "This is Abyssalite."

H: "Ooh. Pet rock? I thought only humans can pack bond with rocks."

D: "It's not a rock. It's a Abyssalite. And it's smarter than you."

H: "It's rude thing to say that. Anyway, what does it do?"

D: "It floats." *Lets go of the crystal and it stays on place. To prove a point - dragon cub touches it with her claw and it starts spinning, slowing down shortly.* "And glows sometimes. It also eats my homework."

H: "Are you planning an excuse?"

D: "No. It literally consumes information. Our species came across it when we developed sub-atomic computation and they... Kinda appeared. Some of infocrystals gained sentience. We still don't know what exactly makes them alive. But they feast on Irregular energy weaves... They often stick up to infocrystals and corrupt data there. I don't know, why someone decided to keep them around, but apparently they can show affection when you study new skills and reduce your stress. Our scholars like them... But some old ones let them reproduce too much and... Well... Their homes end up covered in crystals. Mostly non-sapient as at this amounts they starve and become normal crystals... But I regularly polish Abyssalite. So she won't reproduce."

H: "So that what you meant. Curious. Maybe one day I'll check if I can have one myself."

D: "They won't like you."

H: "Rude."

---

H: "And here we have... Dana, where is your pet?"

Human girl: *Points at a seedling's slug. On top of it - lays a purring cat. Slug that didn't do much before - now suddenly starts to grow and inflate.*

Seedling: "Ender of the Universe!"

H: "Please, dana, can you take it away? It is unhealthy for the slug."

Hg: "But it is sleeping!"

H: "I understand. But..."

D: "Is that all it does?"

*Suddenly, cat jumps off a slug and starts running around, finally jumping and catching Abyssalite mid-air. Crystal immediately starts to glow and spin really fast, trying to shake a cat off.*

D: "Abby! Wait... Have you brought a predator here!?"

S: "Predator pet?!"

*Human manages to catch the cat. Crystal flies back to the dragon cub that starts licking it, heating it up and fixing the claw marks and dents.*

S: "Who's crazy enough to make a pet out of a predator?!"

H: "...Apparently us."

Enlisting on this ship was the worst decision I have ever made. When I joined the local Planetary Defence Forces - I was hoping for an easy job. No one cares about this word and as a xeno-medic - I hoped to get the easiest seat. I was so wrong.

This atmospheric ship was just a cheap tin can with engines local government "Generously" provided its patrols with. Yet our captain Chir'k. Or as my human colleagues called him "Captain Asshole Chirk" - treated us like slaves here. And our paychecks - were noticeably shorter than promiced in the contract because of all the fines he's been charging us with.

Captain made it clear that he liked neither of us. And we responded him with the same approach. The first day we were in the air - he charged a human for the slightly wrong coloration of their overalls. It could be fixed remotely with a push of a button as the color was adaptabile, yet he charged human again for trying to argue.

---

There's six of us on board including him. Me, three humans and an old female wurr who was a mechanic. She was charged twice for the same spot of rust on the food dispenser. Then, when she finally managed to explain that it could not be fixed with simple decorosive solution - she was charged again for not reporting a malfunctioned equipment. The device was replaced at the nearest stop. Because of a spot that changed nothing!

But humans suffered the most. The biggest charge was for the consumption of coffee. He allowed it on the ship, but didn't allow to consume it because of his "No battle stimulants outside of a battle" policy. But that was not all. He charged a human for staying on break 50 seconds more than allowed. Then he charged another human for recording a video from the sky, because apparently - it meant putting their location at risk. He even charged another human for "the lack of dignity" when they trew aside a game board after losing during break time. As he also didn't allow any external connection devices during flights.

---

Humans hated him. I hated him. Everyone hated him. And did he hate us. It didn't help that most of his people's vocabulary apparently consisted of profanities. Very soon instead of relying on our translators we had to learn how orders sounded on his language, because otherwise our translators would just repeatedly indentify his speech with [untranslatable idiom]. He treated the ship like we were in the slave army, not some purely formal patrol.

But the worst case happened during spring. I felt it coming. And despite harsh conditions - I allowed myself to relax on top of the ship and feel the wind and sun. It made me bloom and I procreated, producing a small seedling. When Captain found out he was something beyond furious.

---

For a tiny red-feathered bird creature - he looked like a densely packed box of anger. He charged me for "endangering the crew" then "endangering the civilian" and finally for "hiding a medical condition". What medical condition? Spring?! When we arrived at the post - he made me buy the very expensive portable stasis pot and put my seedling in it. And after that - he charged me again, because my medical equipment lacked two band aids!

That day he said that I was disbanded from the ship and directed it back to the main base to set me off. My human colleagues spent the whole evening calming me down. But when after the signal they all immediately ran to their quarters to not get charged I realized just how terribly Captain affected them. I decided to tell him everything I wanted since I was already out.

---

I came onto his deck and prepared to call him all the names I knew, but he was ready. Before I even moved a leaf - he started screaming at me at the speed and energy my translator barely managed to catch. He insulted my appearance, my bloodline, my whole species and the rock that produced it. He was many times smaller then me but his red feathers and rustling wings gave an impression that he was about to ignite and fill the deck with flames. I raised my wine to finally slice him with a quilled justice... But something got ahead of me.

We were hit! Something hit the ship. Before I realized - the bird was already on its place, turning off the auto-pilot and performing a maneuver that pressed me into the wall like a spot of purple moss. I barely remember what happened, I was flying from side to side through captain's deck, until one of the humans managed to catch me and throw me into the meridian hall, from where I tried to crawl back to my office. But then a few more hits came. Another human cought me and puleld me to the central deck before I heard that captain called for an evaluation.

I came to my senses on the ground. I watched as our ship slowly crashlanded in the jungle, immediately letting up a cloud of flame. All my human colleagues were around, armed and ready. An old wurr female was trying to wake me up by slapping my core nut with her tiny fluffy paws. I barely felt it but still it was unpleasant.

---

Suddenly humans started chanting the name of the captain "Asshole Chirk!" The were screaming repeatedly. I looked at the flaming horizon and felt a strange satisfaction. The feathered curmudgeon got what he deserved for being so cruel towards his subjects. And being sent to the world beyond with such shameful name was right. I wanted to join when suddenly I realized that part of the red fire on the horizon was not the fire at all. It was a bunch of red feathers.

Soon I heard the sound of wings flapping so fast it felt like a sound of drone. Captain Chir'k was flying righ at us. Swearing all the way. And in his talons was an object several times larger than him. Humans weren't mocking him. They were cheering him. As he reached us he dropped his package and started falling. Though one of the humans captured him mid-flight.

The package was strangely familiar. It was covered in black ash, but it was still functional. A portable stasis pot. With my seedling in it.

---

Turns out - when we were flying over the jungle we accidentally spooked local illegal drug producers. We managed to retreat and call for evacuation and investigation groups. But I didn't feel right. I did my best to stabilize the alien I hated. I watched how humans collectively wrote him a colorful postcard that said "get better, Asshole". And when Captain woke up - I didn't have time to say him how sorry I was and how greatfull I felt. Because his first words after the Awakening were "Charge for inappropriately fixed stasis pot. It rolled off the table!". And then he fainted again before humans gave him the postcard.

What an asshole indeed.

When humans arrived on the galactic stage, the Galaxy wasn't as safe and harmonious as it is today. Interdimensional horrors, madness, ghosts of past wars and rampant AIs were among the things a mortal mind could at least name. Meanwhile horrors from beyond were such that mere knowledge of them was a threat in itself. To save themselves and everyone else, humans came up with an idea that reshaped the galaxy as we knew it. The details are lost, but the name can still be found. They called it "Project Exalt."

Humans were known for their adaptability. Through pain and suffering they gained knowledge. Through fear and spite they developed courage. And through coping and reasoning they defeated trauma. The same mechanism laid the foundation of Project Exalt. Of course, a single human mind couldn't hope to comprehend the full scale of a horror that even the most ancient of minds refused to deal with... But that is true for a single human. And if there were more — the problem could be split apart and shared between each and every one of them, and in the end be dealt with.

Who exactly became the first subjects is unclear. Some say it was one of the independent colonies that suggested the project originally. Others say they were clones, designed specifically for this purpose. We know for sure that humans actively sent their criminals, undesirables, their poor... In short — everyone who wouldn't be missed. Exalt technology worked as a living cauldron of sociology and metaphysics. A lens that disperses the incomprehensible and leaves a small piece of it for each of those who could understand it and adapt to it. Hustorians have preserved a project motto from that time: "Before the gaping maw of hell laid a doormat."

---

Slowly, one by one, the horrors went away. The Project kept coming up with solutions. Sometimes strange, sometimes illogical, sometimes terrifying — but naturally working solutions. More criminals and victims of the horrors were sent to the Project. No one really knew what was going on inside. Outside of full-scale quarantine, everything looked like an absolutely normal human colony — just under the rule of the Project. Which itself could hardly be called a prison, as eventually the world became a self-regulating system, which greatly increased its efficiency.

Compared to the state the galaxy was in, the actual method of achieving that victory seemed much less important. Everyone was just grateful that humans had found a solution. While those who became part of the Project were isolated and forgotten for a very long time. Eventually everyone stopped monitoring them. They asked for nothing, only giving out solutions and instructions on how to deal with threats — even those that weren't yet realized, but showed themselves soon after to be dealt with exactly as intended.

But now the galaxy is safe. What is with the Project right now? Did these sacrificed humans simply die out? Why can't you find anything about them in the archives? The answer is the same. Even the knowledge of some threats is a threat in itself. There is no one in the galaxy left who would tell a tale of those times. Not even the humans. Because when they returned... they found no prison.

--

The planet was absolutely different from what it had been remembered as. Not grey concrete walls, but lush jungles, rivers and blue sky. No alarms, searchlights and patrolling drones, but songs of birds, fresh gusts of air and handfuls of insects pollinating beating flowers. No orbital defence platforms, but strange beasts peacefully circling in the thin layers of atmosphere. No trace of the Exalt Project and no humans, but... a bit of both. Something completely different.

They still consider themselves human. They are happy to be among their kin. But around them, humans feel an unnatural fear. Their forms are most appealing to humans — some are cute, some are tempting, some are curious, some a bit of both. But behind their every move and action, humans see a painful familiarity they don't feel in aliens. Their intentions are peaceful, their acts are selfless, they fill human markets with healthy food for free. But no one dares to ask where it came from, stopping at lab tests that prove its safety. They understand humans as no one and nothing human is alien to them. They call themselves humans. But humans generally call them Exiles.

---

The Galaxy has long forgotten the darkest times. Everyone has their own worries to deal with now. Exiles actively trade with everyone, exchanging their raw resources for arts, fiction, music and other forms of virtual entertainment. They seem not to care about anything else, as they have no industrial production and rely on their changing bodies, with no signs of standard human consumerism. Everyone is just thankful that they are still ready to accept alien criminals on their worlds — happy to accept them among themselves.

Recently, Exiles got a seat in the Galactic Community as another sub-species of humans. Everyone knows them as kind and hospitable. But humans still keep their distance. They still don't know what they created, but they will not forget — for the only remaining artificial wall on the world the Exiles now consider their home planet still has an engraving from those old times on it. With a small adjustment, it now reads: "Before the gaping maw of hell WE laid a doormat."

Human saying goes: "when you become untouchable, you're unable to touch." That concept once applied to me.

I was born with black scales. Apparently, this was important for my mother. I know that she had more eggs, but I don't know what happened to them as I only had one sister with the same black scales as my mother's. I remember my feral stage. Our mother trained us to solve primitive puzzles the moment we learned to crawl out of the hiding spot. And whenever we failed - she punished us by slowly cutting off our wings. At night she threw us in the regeneration pool and by morning the trainings resumed.

When we grew into sapience - I found out that she was a noble, bloodline of scientists. Our society - has a strong hierarchy, where the best rule and others claw their way up, competing for the attention of those, who had generations of adaptation for their work. Being born from the noble - didn't mean becoming a noble yourself. Talent isn't bound to blood. But our mother had a different vision. She was sure that she could mold us into it. And so our training became more complex. But the punishment was the same.

When I proofed myself at natural science - I felt proud. But for me it only got worse. My results ensured my mother that her approach was working. Her attention shifted from my sister and I recieved her full guidance. My results grew daily. But my body suffered regularly. Every morning I woke up healthy and well, but I tried to fly as little as possible. Even though regeneration was fully seamless - my wings were hurting far before they were injured again. My sister had it better, because while I was studying - she found a way to unite our bloodline with other so my mother was more interested in the health of her gonads, rather than her performance.

---

Everything changed when I met a human. They were new to our lands and it was new to them. Humans were primitive, but numerous. Fleeting, but talented. Tiny, but... Well... Tiny. My mother and her noble friends were among those who thought they were not far from beasts, but both the Queen and Overlord - allowed them to visit so they could do nothing. I met a human on simulation site. To comfortably exist in our world - she had to use a mech-suit. She told me that she was an engineer and constructed the suit herself. She showed me it through simulation. I was not impressed, the whole technology was ancient, crude, it was made of poor materials I could pierce with my single claw. The suit malfunctioned right in the middle of simulation. But when she crawled out of the suit - I was surprised to se her fixing it herself. With tiny heating device and some metallic foam.

For my whole life - I dealt with physics, mechanics and math. I knew nature of things through and through. Using simulation sites - I designed many experiments as part of my study, but I never even thought of how they were made. All those things were long automated. The number of specialists needed to work on forges and factories - have been shrinking by half every decade while production rates grew for millenia now. Difference between nobles and others - have been growing as well. My mother always looked at those, who "worked with dirt" as on the lower lifeforms. But I spent the rest of the day with a human. Listening her stories of how she built her mech-suit and other mechanisms besides that.

Later I used my break time to sneak into the forgeries. As a scion of noble - I was allowed to. Formally - to check the work of AIs and workers. But in fact I wanted to study that dying craft. It was the first time I felt molten metal in my claws. And the first time I felt curious in many decades. Without telling my mother - I designed a compact smelter and a forge in my chambers. And since then - started practicing smithing. Like thousands years ago - I used my bare claws and my own fire breath to mix and boil my own alloys. Instead of going to regeneration pool immediately - I ignored my bleeding wing stumps and spent evenings with claws in metal. Combining my growing skills with my scientific knowledge.

---

Yet still I was naive. I hoped to impress my mother and her noble friends. I crafted an experimental device myself. But apparently I overestimated my precision and skills. By the end of an experiment - it malfunctioned and leaked. My calculations were perfect, but my skills were poor. That's how she not only found out that I practiced the lower craft. But that I was also bad at it. The next morning I crawled out of regeneration pool to find my room empty.

My sister, bearing a fourth egg by that time, yet still have not produced a single black-scaled offspring - told on me and gave up my secret workshop. Owner of the forge I went to was punished and my mother's friends humiliated her. I did not want to wait till the evening for my punishment. That day I ran away to a rural world and from there - to human space. Back then I had no idea where else to go. All I got on myself were my price jewelries I got for math contests. I exchanged them for a ship that could take me away. As far as possible.

---

The human that inspired me was long dead by that time. Humans were fleeting after all. I had no other contacts outside so I was only hoping that they would accept me. It is a rare situation when an elder lifeform begs of the younger. But I have already fallen low. I had nothing to lose. And since I threw away my dignity as a noble scion - I might as well throw away my dignity as an elder species.

To my surprise - humans accepted me as is after hearing my story. They didn't offer me enslavement, they didn't even suggested me to enter the harem as a breeding assistant. They just accepted me as a smith and allowed me to work on their primitive factories.

What I once thought to be the lowest form of exitence - turned out to be the most comfortable one. The human rimworld - started growing fast after I settled there. Eventually I could afford to build my own modest smithery where I could practice all I wanted. Scooping out planet's molten insides, refining them and giving them form. For humans - these alloys were wonderous, they asked me for different simple things: mech-armor, battleships, mining equipment. Eventually that world even proclaimed independence as it's warfleet was now large enough ot protect it. I was proud to see that most of the ships were of my design and their flagships were of my making...

But sometimes I miss the experiments. Miss temporal accelerators and phase-mirrors. My natural precision and tools - outperform the most complex tools humans are able to produce. But it still falls far behind what I had back home... If that place could even be called that. Virtually I still design prototypes in my mind. But every time I look at my blueprints and think of trying to craft them again - I feel my wings aching. I am now fully grown and my wings are perfectly healthy... But still like a feral cub I hide in my smithery, receive gifts, food and tasks. But still I don't fly. I don't know why I don't fly.

"Ninety eight... Ninety nine... One hundred!"

The human fell to the floor. Their body was absolutely soaked in sweat and tears, but finally — a giant claw that had repeatedly pushed them to the ground left their back.

"Alright. Once again, what did you do wrong?"

"Cavitation... Projector..."

"Cavitation projector what?"

"I forgot to... Run... Calculations... Before... Huff... Before the charge."

"Correct. Now if you didn't fill your neural deck with Boulder-spin it could probably help you to..."

"It's Rock'n'Roll..."

"Aha, so you remember that and not the rules your life depends on? Very well, if that's the problem — I'll expect you after lunch on deck three. We'll try to overwrite the unnecessary data, until you learn to dance and jump to the sound of safety rules rather than your Cobblescrew."

"..."

"That's it. Dismissed."

The ship-lord stood upright. The tiny human, compared to her, was like a mouse next to a tiger. She unfolded her wings and rose from the floor, vanishing into the unbelievably huge, cave-like halls of one of the most ancient GDF ships.

---

The Galactic Defence Force is an ancient organization. And ships like Wing of the Void were its main power. And Ship-lord Lestsitt was its respected ship-lord. This ship was her legacy, inherited from her ancestors. She was its master. And its crew were her subjects. And she was sadistically cruel towards them. And the poor human had it the worst.

Compared to her species, humans were fleeting like snowflakes, tiny like house pests and far less capable of complex thinking. What she could do in her mind, the human had to use complex cybernetic augmentations for. Not to mention that she was the result of a carefully bred bloodline, while humans were still mostly made of genetic garbage. The human, who had at first felt honoured to serve in the GDF, now had to spend every day learning to work with technologies that had taken almost the entirety of their species' timeline as a civilization to design and produce.

And yet the human slowly stood up and activated their physiological implants, launching accelerated muscle regeneration.

From the first day, the human had to be introduced to a cruel reality. They were from a species far below galactic standard in terms of natural talent and intelligence. Of course, that human was among the most capable of their species — yet still. When the human saw the first theoretical test, their brain seemed to break from just one task. After spending a few cycles thinking about it, they simply said they wouldn't make it sober, and used some kind of light stimulant that actually helped them get through most of the tasks. Yet still their grade was barely enough.

Though later the human made an oath that they would never do that again. Not because it was forbidden — quite the opposite. The ship-lord cared little about how results were achieved, as long as they were satisfactory and not dangerous for the ship. It was another recruit that changed things. An alien who scored much higher than the human, also using drugs. But during the practical test, the alien's clouded mind gave them an idea to install stalking software into the ship's systems. They thought their mind knew the exact algorithm to trick the most ancient self-developing battle AI software in the Galaxy. For this, the ship-lord boiled them in one of the cooling plants and served them for dinner, keeping the biggest piece for herself. As ship-lord, she was within her rights. For it had been a direct attack on her domain.

The second thing that hit the human was how weak they were compared to others. It didn't help that humans were generally smaller than most. Some interfaces were physically inaccessible to them. Among the many augmentations the human made to their body were those that allowed them to directly connect to the ship's systems. Was it helpful? It was more productive than being incapable of anything. But was it comfortable?... The human spent the first night after augmentation in the sanitation chamber, standing under a cold shower that for them was more like ice-cold tropical rain. Anything to cool down after so much neural overcharge.

And then came the third thing. The ship-lord didn't like cybernetic augmentations. She tolerated tools that gave new senses or provided abilities a species originally didn't have, but nothing to enhance strength or calculation capabilities. She wanted her subjects to train their natural bodies and minds to work with machines — not to make machines work and think for them. For the human, this was the worst part. To motivate them, she used every method written in human history books, as though she enjoyed tormenting the human most of all. During that time, three more crew members were executed and served for dinner. One of them had apparently been the human's friend. That day the human refused dinner and instead gave their portion a proper funeral. They blamed themselves for not stopping their friend from cheating and sabotaging their duties. The ship-lord found that act entertaining.

---

One by one, crew members left one way or another. Species stronger than the human, smarter, older — left traumatized, injured and humiliated. Yet the human stayed. It was no longer their original craving for exploration. Nor was it valour that kept them loyal. Now it was pure spite. The human had it the worst — forced to work when stronger species were allowed to rest, forced to communicate through senses no human originally had.

Until the day everything changed. During a drill, the human refused a direct order. And when the ship-lord stepped forward to punish her subject, she was stopped by a plasma bolt hitting the floor near her foot. Then another. And another. The inner systems of the ship were hacked — and fired upon their former master. That day the ship was swallowed by a full-scale war.

Many crew members joined the human, but most fought alongside the ship-lord. Though it was not the aliens but the systems that mattered. While the decks were full of armed aliens, the ship's systems fought each other in virtual and real space simultaneously. Guard drones were produced on different decks to charge at each other and be destroyed. Sanitation robots were reprogrammed to shield the fighters. Hacking protocols were generated and neutralized every hour. Then every minute. No distress signal was sent — each one was immediately blocked and stopped.

At first the human was winning, but then the ship-lord regrouped and struck back. Even so, it took a whole year to finally break the human. The final battle happened on the carrier deck. The human was there, in ship-lord-sized battle armor they had built using technology older than their entire bloodline. They managed to push back and turn the tide, retaking the ship's systems and previously lost decks — but were eventually defeated when the ship-lord pierced the last energy generator of their armor with her mono-spear. With her own claws she tore the human from the cockpit and carried their unconscious body away.

---

"Ninety eight... Ninety nine... One hundred!"

The newbie was all blue from tension. Their tentacles were shaking, dry from the heat of their muscles. The drill sergeant finally jumped off their limp body.

"Alright, mate, what was your mistake again?"

"Graviton... Launcher..."

"What's with it?"

"I... I didn't... uh... Turn on the... safe mode?"

"Finally! Took ya long enough. Now crawl back to—"

"Slither! We do not crawl."

"Fair enough, mate, but your sleeping quarters are in the crawling direction. Lucky for ya though — a horrible sanitation duty's waitin' right in the slitherin' direction! Slip-slip!"

The human started casually walking away, humming something clearly heavy metal, and at the last moment stepped aside before a thick tentacle from the larger alien hit the floor where they had stood. The second attack didn't come. The daring recruit was pierced by a massive spear and lifted to the ship-lord's eye level.

"What's all the fuss? Is it time for dinner already?"

"Dunno, darl, you up for some seafood?"

"As long as you're the one cooking."

"Nah, I'm allergic. But I remember what I promised tonight!"

The ship-lord shook her spear, sending the now deep-purple alien tumbling away.

"Good to know your memory's still healthy. I'll be waitin' for ya in the throne room, Mr. Drill Sergeant... Bring the mech-armor."

A strong gust of wind blew away a sanitation drone that had been trying to clean off dried blood. The human was used to such little hurricanes by now. They walked casually toward the alien who, despite being pierced and weakened, was still capable of moving. Their heavy durasteel boot stepped on a tentacle. The human looked the alien in the eye, checking if it was alive.

"Aight, head to the medical bay — we'll repeat your training tomorrow. Sanitation duty's pushed to tomorrow as well."

The human jumped back off the alien and called for their mech-armor. But before climbing up into the cockpit, they turned around and said:

"And for the record — I'm actually allergic to peanuts."

Ehen I look at their acceptance - I see that strange -1000 modifier like "Relations: positive". What does it mean? Do I have to be in bad relations to be accepted? I kinda planned to become a prospectorium...

Nefiri eat radioactive isotopes. Not exclusively, but since the moment normal biology stopped performing well enough and additional augmentations became too power-hungry - our bodies were remade to consume radioactive materials to power up the supplementary organs. And for many millenia consumption rates only grew up. And while average citizens can eat about a few kilograms of radioactive elements per year or just take irradiating sunbaths periodically - nobles with their state-of-the-art organs and noble blood - require whole speacialized star farm to fuse needed elements for them.

When humans were accepted as worthy of existing independently by the Domain - tourists, students, traders of all kind - poured into domain's space to witness civilization that grew and thrived longer than they were a separate evolutionary branch. And traditional nefir radioactive cuisine made them curious in a very unexpected way.

Of course, they couldn't physically consume it. Starting from the fact that their bodies were too small to survive through simple family meal, let alone taste something from the noble sector (it would fry them to crisps) and finishing with their genetic structure that was too prone to the effects of gene-breaking, naturally affected by radiation.

So one day - right near the Donain's border a small cafe called "Little Rad's" started broadcasting their advertisements. And did they give a very tasty price. Young nefiri from simple families, curious about humans arrived to taste the best thing they had in their life. Simple, but cooked with great attention to the texture. Served by Mrs. Rad who had to use big battle armor to be on par with her clients in size and to be protected from radiation. And in family friendly surroundings. With whole sections of the small planet dedicated for flying practice and agility training in a form of entertainment, adapted for Nefiri size.

Turns out, being a retired mech-suit squad general - Mrs. Rad came up with this idea quite early. She wanted to build a proper training grounds for mech-warriors. But her project wasn't approved as it was too expensive. So she took every loan she could and accepted all garbage utilization programs in the sector to build a polygon to store industrial rates of nuclear wastes on the planet from all the ships and stations around. But instead of just digging it into an industrialized landfill - she, inspired by her visit to the Domain - changed the project into a fission-kitchen and took her chances.

In all terms - she sold the literal definition of junk-food: Irradiated coolant, leftovers of reactors, tons of corium, formed into edible for nefiri form. Yet Domain used more advanced and "cleaner" energy sources. So the poorer families had to rely on domestic produce. Which was highly controlled by the planet owners. The appearance of something that nutritional just in the reach of a short jump. And with such friwndly atmosphere - turned the tide.

Very soon ambitious project turned into a franchise. Tasty and cheap isotopes for the whole family at affordable price. Humans could still use their primitive and dirty reactors. And young nefiri recieved their own "taste of childhood" in a form of crispy "meltdownburgers" that wouldn't throw their parents into debt and would give them a proper resting time.

What was originally Mrs. Rad's inventions - later became known as "human style" of fission cuisine. And despite the fact that no human would ever want to even get near, let alone trying to taste it - helped many nefir to start up their additional organ development early and made some curious humans very rich and many nefiri - very happy.

"Two millions tons of carbohydrate, two million tons of protein, three hundred thousands tons of fats, two hundred thousands tons of fiber, two hundred thousands tons of microelements, one hundred thousand tons of water." Emotionless voice broke the normal commanding sequence of the battleship on the orbit.

Eden One. A world deep within human space. The farming world, of unimaginable yield. Was laying there absolutely defenceless. From the orbit It's surface looked like a mix of all possible colors and patterns from a vast amount of edible lifeforms that grew there.

For some reason - humans themselves avoided these places, accepting only the food that came from the system, as a part of agreement with human faction that lived there. The planet had not a trace of industrial pollution. Every element there - was organic, living and therefore - edible. Whale-like ships - were sent from the system regularly to never come back. At arrival - they were processed and sent to the markets and restaurants along with their cargo.

Until this day, when alien fleet arrived to hit their enemy where it hurt the most. The bombardment went on for several hours already. Yet despite high amounts of oxygen - tropical humidity of the world prevented atmosphere from ignition. Though now bombardment ceased. For some reason - ship was refusing to obey commands. Instead - it's lights wete slowly turning off, one by one. No alarms was heard as captain tried their best to use intercom and ask of what have happened. None of 20,000 crew members responded.

The captain's quarter went darker... But not completely dark. The walls, the floor, the ceiling were glowing in strange, clearly not pre-designed patterns. Luminescent lines of presumably organic nature were crawling over the walls, from the hermetic door and towards the captain's throne. The voice announced the list again and continued: "This is how much your bombs have destroyed so far... A small fraction, but loss indeed."

When hermetic door was fully submerged in glowing vines - a different motion began. Humanoid figure with undistinguishable features, wearing light and withered cloak and a scythe entered the room... Without opening the door. It slowly walked out, swinging what used to be military grade alloys away, like leaves of the low-hangin twigs.

The captain desperately pushed the trigger on their blaster, but it was covered in vines as well and quickly broke apart in ther claws, like a piece of mushy rotten wood. Meanwhile creature was approaching and kept speaking: "Yet, have you ever even made so much in your life? Can you imagine what does it cost?..."

In the last attemp - captain jumped forward and tried to attack the ghostly figure with their claws... To be stopped by an absolutely material and strong hand. It didn't let go, no matter what he did. He didn't see the eyes of a figure, yet felt its interest. "Fear not, I forgive you." The creature's second hand touched captain's face. "Let's see... fifty kilograms of water, eighteen kilograms of protein, twenty kilograms of fats, almost one kilogram of carbohydrates, around four kilograms of microelements and ten kilograms of mixed calcium..." hooded creature looked away, as if it was watching through the walls. "Times twenty thousand."

Wurr - have a very big families. Ancient legends says that even before we hit the space - we didn't have independent empires. Just a big number of families that piled up together to save themselves from the catastrophe that turned our world into a ring of dust around now long dead sun. And when everyone were safe - they just once again fell apart on the independent clans, who had their own clanships all for themselves.

Families of hundreds of thousands were normal and very useful to operate the large systems, like the ship. Now every crew counts billions. To maintain needed unity - we invented a whole library of roles one can take in the clan. But since we accepted a human in - something unusual started to happen.

At first - human was accepted as my left-lower-ear-sister's cub care-wrapper. (An ancient role that mattered when we needed to dig our hibernating cubs in the sand for the cold season. Something close to human godparent). But later I found out thar the same human was my first nephew's bloodbrother after some events my nephew's left-upper-ear-father promiced not to share. It is not unusual to have more then one formal role... But not the hundreds of such!

Apparently, human have bonded with everyone from our family at least once. Which adds every another formal or factual duty to their list. So right now they spend most of their time in the clanship's transportation system, going from deck to deck to perform different family duties. They don't even do anything else on the ship because of that, they can and will always have an excuse...

Though I wouldn't dare to demand anything else of them, after looking at their full family title and their daily schedule. In a day - they work with hundreds of cubs, assist tens of elders, spend half of the big cycle visiting small meetings and feasts and always manage to think of a proper present. And they even have time to assist some of the young ones in mating games... I don't even want to imagine how they do it with such staggering difference in size. Human is many times bigger than any wurr ever would be... Damn, but now I'm curious.

What was supposed to be a family bonding tradition have turned that human into a slave for our clan and ship. And I don't know how to help them. I disrespect slavers. But at that point lifting off even some of their duties - will insult or make very sad a lot of my clanmates. And recently I found human in the fabrication sector, building themselves a virtual presence device... Poor thing!

I really can't help but wonder. I've been trying this strategy for a long time. Not playing "tall" or wide, but in fact playing "Low". As low as possible. Building a species template that requires as little sustenance as possible, grabbing every bonus there is to not grow Empire Size. Limiting myself to only one/two planets. Actively using planetary ascentions and so on. It's been a fun experience, but I feel like on higher difficulties it literally demands of me to make vassals and take resources from them (Though if not for some bugs - it'd be funnier to become a vassal myself). Or choose virtual ascentions. Which is much less fun, but probably much more efficient.

Have you tried such approach?

Despite being completely different genetic species - human biomorphs are still human and follow the same human thinking pattern, when choosing their form. And like always - humans still argue about what pattern is the best: "fluffy but dangerous" or "dangerous but fluffy". This duality have already started a few quite serious biomorph fights.

And, for the record, what they call a fight - others call full-scale war of extinction. So if you want to avoid misunderstanding, call them all fluffy or dangerous. But never both.

My whole life I was a monk. Being born Veil - means being born with a debt to the universe. Veils are parasites, and being brought into sapient existence - means taking it from someone else. There's no way around it, no matter the scientific accomplishments. That's why our teachings say that for every joy, real and possible, you took - you should bring two. It also means that you should never take more lives than you can save.

But in one of my pilligrimages I met a human. She was the most interesting person I ever met. She showed me many joys and shared many thoughts. I even took her to the temple I worked in. It was pleasant to see her this happy. She liked my host body, despite my giant arachnid legs that grew out of it's scull. Everyone is terrified of seeing this sign of Veil infestation, but she said that she liked it... Shortly speaking, after a few years - we had procreated. She had twins and since we decided to infest one of the fetuses and leave other clean - both out bloodlines continued on.

But one day when I was out to the Council - our home got attacked. She was separated from our kids, but managed to escape. Later - we received a message from the pirates. They proposed a bargain, in exchange for our kids - I had to give them all of my treasures, regalia and artifacts temple reciewed during my duty. My mate demanded to fly with me, I asked her to stay behind. Pirates went on board to load the mountain of precious metals and artifacts. And I recieved our cubs.

I couldn't hear them. At first I thought that it was because of their psychic helmets pirates put on them, to prevent me from calling them. But I was wrong, for both of them were already dead. I did everything I was asked for and I couldn't save anyone. My mate saw everything. She jumped to the deck and killed a few pirates, before she getting shot. I heard her despair. Her anger. And I responded to that feeling. It was not something from within my host body. I felt what I think humans did. It was alien even to my host.

I abandoned my oaths as monk the moment I decided to give up all temple's treasures. And now I was going to abandon one more. The pirates on deck, the big pile of metals. With my psychocinetoc powers - I grabbed them and pushed them together, and pushed, and pushed. Even when their screams were buried in the seamless ball of metals - I kept pushing, until the temperature started rising. I pushed, crashing ancient artifacts and lifeless bones in one singular mass. And when temperature became unbearable - the shining ball left the cargo bay, slowly drifting away from the ship.

I was never trained as a warrior, it's forbidden for Veils to use psychic powers for harm, unless it's a matter of saving more than you kill. I didn't think of that tgat moment. I watched how ball, surrounded by violet halo of my power - slowly became smaller both from getting further from the ship and being compressed more. I ignored when my host body was caught in flames from overwhelming tension. I pushed, as if it would close the emptiness inside my injured wife's heart shut.

Pirates knew that their comrades were dead. We were in their space and they did not expect us to fight back. Not me, for sure. They have only sent one ship to get the price. And in the matter of seconds it joined the now ever bright ball of matter. I just wanted my cubs back. And all I recieved were corpses. They wanted my treasures... So the corpses of them they will get. They did not expect a black hole suddenly flying right inside their outpost. I didn't know I could do that before that day. Only when I realized what I was doing and stopped pushing - everything collapsed. All of the matter, asteroids, metals and ships fused into whatever they called home - was gone. In one moment - numerous voices dissappeared, as if they never existed. I managed to order a jump-drive, before my containment sphere fully collapsed and a new small star lightened the space for a few seconds.

I don't know, how many I killed, but I knew for sure that it was more than I could ever make up for. I lost everything I had worked for that day. Everything for a devastated human wife and a pair of dead children. In the temple I asked the Great Dream of the Universe for forgiveness. But I knew that I would never get it. I spent too much time with the human I love and therefore...

My sin is unforgivable for I - could never make myself to regret it. So forgive me Dreamer if you want so, but I have humaned.

It's not pleasant to discuss those things when you think about anthros, but I think it should be among the most important fields in furry hygiene. Proper protection from the parasites.

Fur is thicker than human hair and it wi be harder to just wash them away. And it's harder to spot a tick under fur. And more importantly - clothes won't help, since parasitic bugs are much smaller than one can spot. But dangerous nevertheless.

IMO - furry settings should include hygiene and collective grooming traditions. And clean and healthy looking body fur - should be a mark of civilized person.

Public bathhouses are vital in the ancient times and baths, that you can fully submerge in - are normal in modern setting. (Maybe their share in general buikding area - should be bigger than one in humans) Strongly smelling weed products are normal part of everyone's routines and in general seen as a smell of a good neighborhood. I'd think of regular anti-flee medicine , that poison anthro blood for fleas, but I see that as a bit too much. But anti-flee properties of clothes cleaning products - can be the case.

I'd think of anti-flee collars, but that sounds more like a conceptualization than a canon.

Because of the few very successful, famous and infamous individuals - everyone expect great achievements from humans. So when you suddenly lose a fight to Krikki, fail to fix something with duct tape and spit or fall to simplest psychic trick - it becomes a matter of discussion for many cycles and gives a massive confidence boost to those who defeated "The human".

Whenever you try to get some of your favorite meals - you soon find out that it would be easier to eat whatever tasteless mess others eat rather than dealing with all the bureaucracy required to justify exitence of one gram of mustard aboard. Whenever someone is in trouble - they always think that sticking up to a human is a winning strategy. Even if said human themselves is a student with more loans than hair.

And the most annoying part is if you don't fit into those unrealistic standards - many start to think of you as of "wrong human", that's how strong are the stereotypes. Whenever you say that you will bring a pet - everyone expect a freaking direwolf. Not Wurri Chirp-slug. Because apparently if it is unable to get you to personal meeting with your ancestors - it's unfit for human.

And don't let me start on famous human "horniness" part. Not everyone is willing to fuck a human-sized snail. But go and try explaining it to that slimy 500kg organic tank that finds you somehow attractive. At best - you will insult them greatly, at worst - you will be misinterpreted and won't like where this may lead you.

In short - being a human is a burden. There is a reason, why humans mostly stay on their worlds. Because going out to open galactic community - is alike to an announcement that you are either very brave or incredibly dumb. And in both way - you can never surely expect anything afterm.

The lost human tribe, as they were known back then - really made everyone nervous upon arrival to Earth. They were different in shape. Their ships barely resembled ships. And their language... They had to recall terran languages and greatly mutate their voice cords to be able to speak to their former kin in a way they could understand.

But when the actual meeting finally happened - the tension dynamics was unexpected. Turns out, the lost ones - didn't believe that humans still existed till the last moment. They thought it was all part of some trick, holographic projection or collective delusion. Their strange questions were in fact attempts to expose the lies. And when all doubts were proofed wrong - they dropped their serious masks and rushed to greet their kind in the kindest ways they knew.

Humans were still there, Earth was not consumed by Greedflesh, Sun hasn't hatched into Star Devouer, Humans have not encountered dream demons and didn't accidentally create another iteration of Steel Prophet, they didn't have to fight for their timeline, their bodies were still fully real and not half-trapped into another dimension, they could trust into their memories as they weren't infested by Whispering Void and in the end of the day - they were still the same old humans.

Not whatever is needed to pretend that you still present, made of humans. Not human-containing surrogate. Not even an engramms of humans. But actual humans. Natural ones. With red blood, soft skin and those big terrified eyes they had after hearing what their other kinds had to come through.

Wars are inevitable. No matter how strong - not a single galactic empire have yet to enforce global peace. No matter what founding of Galactic Community tried to bring compromise among different civilizations - it all ended the same. In fire, pain and suffering until someone ambitious enough didn't turn the galaxy into a flaming torch, starting another age of fire, only for another generation of interstellar civilizations to build anew hope for peace on a rouns of once glorious and mighty empires. Those, who have survived at least one such cycle - is formally called "ancient".

Though this iteration is going for far longer. And the reason for that is humans. Not because they are such strong warriors or powerful enforcers of peace. But because they know war and look where many don't. They look at horrors it brings beyond the battlefields. Humanitarian missions, support programs, whole sections of galpol dedicated to cases connected to wars. Humans stopped needing their own wars after they found out the state galaxy was in.

They are not naive, not a single of various human factions claims to be able to defeat the war... But they have proven that they can indeed clean up the mess. And buy this iteration of Galaxy - a bit more time, where mutual hate, fear and revenge - won't turn into a mreaning of life for too much people. They have seen where the neverending cruelty can lead. So they always know, where to seek it's prey...