r/humansarespaceorcs

Chairbeing Ci’lax’ith of the Centian Triumvirate cleared its throat (glands?... speech apparatus?) the human emissary was unsure. “We are here to discuss the humans,” it said wearily.

A collective groan rippled across the chamber like a wave. AI delegates slightly powered down their neural nets in anticipation of the machine learning version of a migraine. 

“They have decreased the speed of light by 1%,” the Chairbeing continued.

A scientific attache from the Nymbian System asked, “could it be a rounding error?” 

The lone human delegate shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

“Ask him!” Chairbeing Ci’lax’ith answered angrily pointing at the man. 

“Uh no sir, your highness, err Chairbeing, ma’am,” the human delegate stammered.

“We dispensed with sex and gender before your ancestors were bipedal. Just say Chairbeing or Chairperson if that’s easier. Why would you do this? Do you realize the ramifications?”

“We were trying to achieve faster than light travel…” he mumbled. This unfortunate human’s name was Brett. Brett had drawn the short straw and been sent to the Emergency Session of the Federation of Planets, the majority of whom were already annoyed by how long the human had taken to reach them. They had called the session several years ago and he had only just arrived. 

“You do realize per the tenets of your Einstein,” the Chairbeing used the term mockingly, “you have just decreased the efficiency of all of our fusion reactors by 2%? Even your own sun is generating less energy.”

“E = mc² you idiot,” another alien roared. 

“All you’ve done is made your sun slightly dimmer and totally fucked all our energy budgets!” A particularly enraged AI, whose civilization was heavily dependent on fusion, yelled. 

“Yes, but we made the universe slightly smaller…” Brett tried to interject.

“And made all interstellar travel and communication slower, you simpleton!” An octopoid intelligence cut him off angrily. 

A transmission from Earth appeared on the screen.

Hey, just trying something. Probably nothing. Probably won’t affect universal constants.

“What are they doing now, Brett?” The Chairbeing asked angrily. 

“Probably attempting to fix our mistake,” Brett said hopefully.

Another crescendo of groans echoed across the chamber.

“Can’t anyone stop them?” A scaled arthropod questioned multiple limbs quivering with anger.

“We have interceptors in Alpha Centauri. We could be there in less than a light year. Well maybe slower now because they did, whatever they did…” a large muscular vaguely humanoid being standing at least ten feet tall growled then trailed off.

“I’m streaming this back to Earth, I wouldn’t threaten them…” Brett mumbled. 

The chamber shook then stilled. Emergency lights flared slightly slower than usual. 

“What was that?!” An AI asked as it ran calculations. 

“They’ve lowered the speed of light by 3% now!” Another alien exclaimed.

The room as a whole rounded on Brett who visibly shrank, “I’m sure it’s just an anomaly?”

Here eat it! H: Um - A: You're an omnivore right, I have seen you ingesting all kinds of disgusting refuse?

"Hold on Babe, were almost there!"

He held her tenderly as he staggered forward. Straining with the effort.

"Its o.k... You can put me down... I'll be fine..." She softly whispered into his neck.

He shook his head. "Never... Its just one quick trip."

Onward he staggered. She could hear his heart hammering in his chest. Feel his muscles strain. But he pulled from some deep ancestral well of strength and soldiered on as the rain fell.

"You don't have to do this anymore... It's too much to bear... Please... just put me down and go on." She whined into his chest as he moved onward like a living engine beneath her.

"Your light as a feather... always have been." He was lying of course. He was starting to shake from the exertion.

The man wouldn't be deterred however. He refused to relinquish his burden. It was like the day she'd truly fallen for him. He'd taken a team of volunteers and waded through a literal warzone, against orders to drag her and the rest of her team out of the fire. She could still remember the way he came over the hill. His armor dented and damaged framed by a purple sky. His eyes were like coals of wildfire then...

The way his team roared as they fell on the enemy encircling her medical transport. That 15 man fire team drove off the better part of a division in 3 hours of hellish close quarter fighting and then carried her small medical team and 9 wounded survivor to safety.

She knew then there would never be another man in her life.

She was seriously reconsidering that right now as she slowly DIED of embarrassment!

As soon as the walked out of the market he had taken ALL the bags and hung them from his arm then picked her up in a bridal carry!!! Now he was Jogging thru the center of their little village... Her ears were so red she was pretty sure the rain was actually sizzling when it hit the fur...

"Derrick pleeease... People are starring!" She whined at him with her muzzle buried in his neck.

Her Human just repeated "Almost there. Also, it's raining out. Don't want the squish beans to get wet!" And then muttered something about... "and... One trip..."

...While she slowly died inside...

Finally after what was arguable the 10 longest minutes of Leandra's life they reached the door to their home.

Since the ridiculous oversized ape refused to put her down she unlocked the door while still in the mans arms. All the while their neighbors were giggling and cheering her paramour on.

Finally inside the house Derrick plopped her down on the couch. He started towards the kitchen with the groceries but stopped at the wall mounted video phone kiosk. He punched in a number and squared up to the massive screen.

A few seconds later the call was taken and a big green Buroodian filled the screen. "Sup BooBoo?"

Derrick lifted the bags to show his friend and Battle Rordeck "Jangles" Graid.

"Bro! One trip!"

Rordreck Paused for a second...

"One trip?"

The Human nodded.

"One trip!"

The Buroodian let out a full bodied battle cry "WOOO!!!"

The Human responded in Kind "WOOO!!!" Then ended the call.

Leandra's just buried her head in her hands and laughed while her boyfriend strutted into the kitchen like a puffed up cartoon character.

A few moment later she got a text from Rordeck's wife Maddi

Recieved: The FUCK was that???

Reply: Um... One trip? * Laughcry emoji * * shrug emoji *

Leandra just laughed harder.

As all psykers - human ones are feared. It's scary to hear of spells like "Wraith of Black Sun" or "Eternal suffering". But when you really should run if spell sounds suspiciously nice. For example:

"Sunshine and butterflies" - will summon a sun-eating horror right where you stand.

"Wonders of life" - will turn you into immortal limbless slime with it's insides out, that can only slither, suffering every moment it contacts with reality.

"Octopus party" - will rip existance apart, opening portals to the most terrible worlds, and leaving a beacon in your brain to make it smell like a tasty treat to them.

"Smiles and cheers" - will split apart your consciousness and make the parts fight, turning your willpower against itself, making you desperately destroy everything you are, until nothing is left but a useless and blank mind, filled with one happy wish of being useless and blank, that prevents you from recovering ever.

Also if human will ever start rhyming their spell - running away might be too late for you.

Got the writing bug again. Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cabin sat up high, past where the roads gave out and the maps stopped caring. It was nine thousand feet up on a chunk of granite and boreal pine. You didn't stumble onto it; you either knew the way, or you had no business being there. Elias didn't like neighbors, so the arrangement worked just fine.

Mornings were always slow on the ridge. The chill seeped right through the floorboards, and the sun struck his windows long before the valley below ever tasted the light. This morning was no different.

Elias sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his blanket to work some feeling back into his scarred hands.

"Alright," he muttered, his breath visible in the cold. "Let's go."

His hip answered first. A deep, grinding reminder of a long career. He stood anyway.

By the time the sun broke over the jagged peaks to bleed orange across the valley, he was out on the porch. He held his coffee in his left hand, watching some junk on his tablet and taking in the crisp air. A heavy dog pressed her side against his leg, soaking up his heat.

"Morning, pup," Elias said.

Valka huffed and made a sound somewhere between a groan and a moo, blowing a warm puff of air against his worn denim. Her heavy ears airplaned out to the sides, a goofy, wide grin breaking the stoic lines of her face just for him. It was the same dumb look she'd given him since she was eight weeks old, tumbling over his daughter's shoes in the hallway of a house that didn't exist anymore.

Ten years old. An Old Earth breed, an American Akita. Her muzzle had gone white, and she was slower to rise these days, but she was entirely solid muscle and loyalty.

Elias nodded once and stood to ladle out her breakfast. "Bet you're hungry, girl," he said, spooning bland eggs and bacon into her bowl before returning to his bench.

The radio crackled faintly from the table inside, static cutting through the air. A frantic, clipped voice he didn't recognize was calling for an emergency evac somewhere far down in the sprawl.

Elias listened for half a second, then reached inside and shut it off.

"Not today."

-------------------------------

It was a simple Tuesday when it happened. There was no warning, no buildup. Just a sudden, deafening crack of multiple sonic booms directly overhead as the alien drop pods and ordnance fell from the skies.

Valka noticed first. Her head snapped up, Spitz ears pricked forward on high alert, white-rimmed eyes focused on the strange new noise. A low, rumbling growl vibrated deep in her chest.

Elias followed her gaze to the horizon.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I see it, girl."

The first deep violet streak came down over the far ridge, the chitinous drop pods tearing a jagged, burning line through the atmosphere. It impacted and the ground shook before it dispersed its cargo. More came, landing in the surrounding cityscape at the base of the mountain and off towards the horizon. There were dozens at first, and the number quickly grew into the hundreds. The screaming streaks of purple fire turning the morning dark with smoke from their descent.

The valley lit up in rolling waves of orange and black, fire and smoke spreading quickly around the impact sites. But none fell towards the mountain. The monolith was mostly uninhabited and not of strategic importance.

Elias didn't move. He didn't reach for a rifle or a go-bag. He just sat there, sipping his coffee and watching the world burn from the nosebleeds.

"Figures," he said.

Valka leaned harder into him, a low whine escaping her throat. Elias gave her a heavy, slow scratch right behind the ear, her mouth opening happily as she leaned into it.

"It's alright, Valka."

He didn't get up. He just watched from his high cabin as the colony burned below.

-------------------------------------

Three weeks passed, and the world ended down in the valley in plumes of smoke and ash. Up here, it remained simple. Wood, water, routine, Valka. It was all he needed. All he wanted. He was content to ignore the happenings below so long as he was left alone.

Elias was splitting kindling one morning. His axe bit deep into the pine, but he paused halfway through the next swing as a distant, unnatural light flashed across the gray horizon. He watched it fade into a sickening green hue.

"Looks like they're still at it," he said, leaning on the handle.

Valka didn't look up from the bone she was working over. Good.

Sometimes at night, things moved across the stars. Things that didn't blink like satellites and didn't fit any Terran profile. They were massive and wrong, large blocky things dominating the skies.

Elias stepped out onto the porch once, the freezing air biting his lungs, and watched a colossal shadow blot out the moon.

"Big fuckers," he muttered.

He stayed there a while, watching it transition across the sky, his hand resting on Valka's broad head. Then he went back inside.

"Not my problem." He lied to himself.                                                                                       

-----------------------------------------------

It happened just past noon the next day. As he was enjoying an afternoon snifter of good scotch, the air went totally silent and far too still.

Valka went rigid. It wasn't curiosity, and it wasn't her usual alert. She was locked in on something in the dense trees. Her hackles raised from her neck to the base of her tail.

Elias saw the shift in her posture and the bared teeth immediately.

"Easy," he said, already moving, his voice a flat, calm anchor.

The rifle stayed on the wall hook inside. It was too far away. His hand slid under the porch swing instead, coming up with something shorter and heavier. Familiar black steel.

"Alright," he murmured, thumbing the safety. "Let's see." He crouched low to break up his figure with the fencing on his porch, his bad hip screaming obscenities at him as he did so.

The woods parted. Three of them stepped through the brush like they didn't care about stealth. They were too tall and too smooth, scaled plates shifting under gray environmental suits.

They spread out with no wasted motion. A group of professionals.

Elias watched from the shadows of the porch. He didn't rush. He let them close the gap.

"Hunters," he said quietly.

Then he moved.

The first one dropped before it knew what was happening, its skull caved in by a heavy suppressed round.

The second turned, alien eyes going wide, but not fast enough. It fell backward, chest plate shattered, dark fluid spraying the dirt.

The third was fast. Faster than the others. Its strange, multi-barreled weapon whipped around, drawing a bead on Elias.

Elias shifted violently to evade and his damaged hip screamed—a blinding spike of agony from an old, deep-set injury.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered through gritted teeth at the protesting joint. He rolled, but Valka was already in the air. Ten years old, and she launched herself like a heat-seeking missile. Ninety-five pounds of protective fury. A guttural roar tore from her throat as she hit the third alien high. Her jaws clamped viciously onto the arm holding the weapon, her teeth sinking right through the suit into whatever meat was underneath.

The alien staggered and thrashed wildly at the unexpected canine. It let out a sharp, clicking shriek, trying to shake her loose.

Valka held on. Shaking her head, ripping, throwing her entire weight around to pull the thing off balance. Refusing to let go.

"NO!" Elias yelled.

Too late.

The alien brought its other arm around in a brutal, sweeping arc. The sound of the impact was sickening, and Valka hit the cabin wall. She hit it hard enough that the wood splintered behind her.

The sound she made was devastating. It was thin, high, and pitiful. It cut through everything Elias had left in him.

The alien turned, ripping its torn arm back. It grabbed it, using its other arm to support the damaged limb, its mandibles clicking in furious, wet spasms as the wounded creature slowly brought its weapon to bear.

Elias stood. It wasn't fast, but it was efficient, and the cold hatred in his eyes gave the alien pause.

He closed the distance before the alien could draw a bead on him, ignoring the gun entirely. He grabbed the creature by its throat and armor plating, squeezed, and slammed it into the dirt. He beat it with his free hand until it stopped moving altogether.

He didn't check to confirm the job was done. He had other concerns. Kicking the thing in its head, he quickly turned and dropped to his knees beside his dog.

"Hey," he said, his voice stripped of its previous calm. "Hey, stay with me."

Valka's breath hitched in a bubbling, ragged gasp. The angle of her ribs was wrong. The way she lay against the cold dirt was wrong.

Although the situation had him panicked, Elias's hands moved fast and practiced, carefully working through the blood and fur.

"Easy, girl," he murmured. "Easy. I've got you."

Pressure first, then find the break. Keep the airway clear. Wrap tight enough to hold, loose enough to let her breathe. Hands that had patched up worse running on pure muscle memory.

Valka's golden eyes flicked toward him. They were cloudy with pain, but focused. She was still there.

"That's it," Elias said quietly, pressing his palm over her racing heart. "Stay with me, darlin'."

"You ain't dyin today," he whispered.

---------------------------------------------------

By the time the sun dropped and the cold truly set in, Valka was inside, wrapped tight in gauze and Elias's heavy shirt. Her breathing was shallow, but it was steady. She was holding on.

Elias sat on the floor beside her, one hand buried deep in her ruff. Listening to the wind howl outside. Counting her breaths.

"Good girl," he said softly.

He looked at the old dog, stoic as ever even in the face of death. Then, quieter, laced with something heavy: "I should've been faster."

He didn't get an answer, but he didn't expect one. The single, slow thump of her tail against the rug was reply enough.

When he was absolutely sure she was stable, Elias stood up.

He checked Valka's water bowl. It was full. The passive melt from the snow tank on the roof dripped steadily into the basin beside it. She wouldn't go dry.

The heavy oak table screeched as he pushed it aside. He pulled up the floorboards, the wood groaning against the nails, to reveal the long, dust-covered case waiting in the dark.

He stared at it for a long moment, the silence of the cabin pressing in around him.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Guess we're doing this again."

The latches snapped open, sounding like gunshots in the quiet room.

Inside was everything he used to be. The dull gray powered armor of his Sirius Wars days. Environmental seals. Heavy ordnance. Ammo was sparse, but it should be enough.

He meticulously checked the contents of the box, piece by piece. Diagnostic checks, locking seals, loading. He didn't rush, but he acted without hesitation. He checked the action on the old mag rifle. The muscle memory was perfect.

"Still works," he murmured, cycling it.

From the other room, Valka made a low, pained sound. Elias stopped, walked over, and knelt beside her.

"Gonna step out, hun," he said. Calm, normal. Like he was just grabbing firewood from the porch. "Just for a bit."

Valka's tail thumped again. Weak, but there.

Elias leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, feeling her body heat, listening to her breathe as he gently scratched behind her ears.

"Hold," he commanded quietly. "Watch the house."

He stood and stepped outside into the freezing dark. He didn't notice the cold; his suit was already powering up with a low, sub-audible hum, keeping back the chill with environmental conditioning.

The mountain waited. Down below, in the valley where the world had ended, something moved that didn't belong. Fires stretched for miles, burning in careful, methodical grids.

Elias adjusted the heavy rifle in his gauntlets, letting the suit take the brutal, familiar weight of it.

"Alright," he said, his voice flat and certain. "Let's go talk."

 

I can’t take it anymore. This alien fuc- colleagues of mine said I can’t take my cat with me on our 4 month business trip. It’s been 2 weeks, and like never before I feel that my favorite feline asshole was the only thing keeping me sane on long trips with no human entertainment. They keep saying something about “are you insane?! This thing is programmed by nature to kill!” and “we won’t take predators on board!”, well I’m a predator too, so?! Why don’t you kick ME out?? “But you are sentient” my ass. I even asked my usual crew, who are taking care of my cat, to pass us by, so I can take him against all protests. But nooo “it’s too dangerous, how will we work?!”. Unfortunately, all I could do was pet my furry friend and take a box full of books ignoring the “but the ship can’t handle extra weight! we have already used 90% of its maximum capacity!”.

What do I do now? Do you have any tips on sneaking a cat onto Cabluga 3 ship?

We never learned to shut up anyway...

Inevitably, some humans developed psychic abilities after closer contact with Other Side. As usual, it turned them into outcasts, but unlike others - they were not exiled. They stepped away because being near so much of their thinking and imagining kind was too distructive.

And yes, like all normal psykers - they had to greatly change their everyday life and habits. They settled their own small planet, that was now human version of a riftworld, they greatly overlooked their vision of mind, death and divinity and they couldn't find understand in their former species even if they wanted. Because they are different... But it doesn't stop them.

Unlike others - they don't want to admit their differences. They actively judge those, who develop god complex and recognize it as a mental disease (despite being closer to gods than anyone of their species). They refused to break bonds with their former friends and families, despite the fact that normal connection with them now only possible through hyper relay from afar, so they'd not actually hear their real thoughts. And they still participate in human market, unlike other species' psykers, who mostly turn ascetic or build their own twisted economy, after discovering the real value of things.

They don't do blood sacrifices, death cults, they don't eat children and don't torture themselves with psychic flames and judge those, who do. It seems, that unlike most - something stops them from admitting that they are not human anymore. Even more, they actively assist in the development of psychic supressors, instead of psychic catalists, like normal psychics. Others see it as naivety and lack of experience. Yet human psykers keep chaining themselves to their species of origin... We can't really tell, why.

What's your price?

This is the question that laid the foundation for our entire civilization. What is your worth? What do you have to take? What are you willing to give? What do you want? Are you wanted? It has multiple interpretations, and each one became an origin point for our civilization's philosophy.

Nowadays we can blame our world of origin for that. Seismically active, dry, full of ash and brimstone—and by chance, located right inside a rift in reality itself, the chaotic weaving of which became our sun and stars. It's almost impossible to place one stone upon another in these surroundings and hope to see it still there tomorrow. The price of something stable is the sacrifice of someone else. That is what separated us from the beasts of our world. We knew how to sacrifice.

We originated from scavengers. Our predatory nature is but a mocking gift from reality, and the fact that we gained sapience to understand this is proof that reality has a sense of humor. Our mythology speaks of the First Lord, who brought a dead beast back home and fed his clan. He killed it with the densest thing he knew—denser than ashstones and the petrified remains that covered the ground. It was the rib of his own brother.

Our kingdoms were built of bones and blood, both literally and philosophically. We learned that behind everyone's successes and riches stands someone who gave up everything. Someone who toiled the lava lakes with plows made of their ancestors to pull out slightly denser metals. We made sacrifices for one reason: so someone else would make them for us after.

Our civilization is built on slavery. Thanks to the location of our world of origin, we quickly discovered how little we actually were worth. We bent chaotic fires to cast ourselves gates to the plentitude. We traveled realities like one travels oceans to find those who were willing to sacrifice. And in exchange for their work, we gave what they lacked.

Among others, we became known as interdimensional merchants and slave traders. In a way, our slaves speak of us more than we ever could. We cultivated them so they were willing to sacrifice, and we gave them every chance to do so.

Our food slaves are willing and enthusiastic to become as tasty as possible. We enslaved creatures made of rocks and crystals, and their successors now yearn to be harvested for minerals. We enslaved those who spoke in lightning, so their deathsongs would power our engines. Our scientists enjoy the thrill of discovery and the sparks of their talents, but leave the suffering of failures and the complexity of tasks to those who were made to enjoy them. Even reproduction is left to slaves who enjoy the tortures of birth, growth, and parenting, while we, from childhood, enjoy love, pleasure, and the happiness of family.

So when we stumbled upon humans, our question was the same. It angered them, and their response was as spiteful as they were: "And what's yours?!" Yet it came not from them sharing our worldview—it was different. Why do you think you're worth more? Who are you to name prices? How do you know you are better? Those conflicts grew into a nightmare of a war. But it made us rethink many things. We had become accustomed to thinking of everyone as slaves—if not current ones, then potential.

We saw that humans were willing to sacrifice, but they did not enjoy it. Among them were heroes and cowards, and it was hard to determine one from another. They were eager to make us suffer the things we had avoided suffering. And they gave us the answer to our eternal question. It never mattered how much you were willing to sacrifice. We saw it in our slaves; we had forgotten it in ourselves. The only thing that mattered was what you are willing to sacrifice for.

In the end, we found a compromise. Humans were left as free as ever. But we gained the most valuable slaves of all time—those we could never cultivate. The slaves of willpower. Those who could tell us what is worthy of making sacrifices for, leaving us the simple pleasure of feeling a goal worthy of suffering.

How often, in any given situation, does your Terran accomplice say the words “Trust me” and any other variable phrases.

“Let’s see how these humans fight without the help of Mother Nature!”