Challenge #02135-E306: It's a Bit Like Bognor
Humans have 3 states of existence. Yes, No, and hold my drink. -- Anon Guest
Thax had never met a Human before, but it was highly advisable that she get one for her expedition into the Edge Territories. The information available was... incredibly scant. Well. The information that wasn't also attached to an offensensitivity warning.
Humans have three states of existence, it said, Yes, No, and "Hold My Drink". They were Deathworlders, but they were also classed as "Mostly Harmless" until provoked. There was a long and boggling list of things that could provoke Humans, ordered from most likely to least likely to cause a hostile reaction.
Having read only twenty percent of it, Thax decided to have a bodyguard for her meeting with her potential bodyguard for her journey into more hazardous territories than Whaddahell Station.
Everyone was in their Minimal Livesuits as a matter of etiquette. So many species had so many communicable diseases that could lay waste to populations; so the prudent and polite thing to do was to keep one's own viral biota to oneself. Thax attempted to stay calm in the middle of three cogniscents who could, if they chose to, squash her flat. She tried not to think about two out of three of them being on her side against a potentially dangerous Deathworlder.
This one wore a mostly clear body-sheath livesuit, which displayed the physical nature of the Human within it. Like most Humans known to the Galactic Alliance, this one had a brown hue to their skin, though this one was dappled with both lighter and darker patches. They had hazard-coloured Skins on under their livesuit and Thax could see why.
This was one of those Deathworlders who modified their body.
Art had been added to their skin, a process that involved multiple, rapid injections of ink into the epidermis by way of tiny needles. Pieces of metal went through the cartilage of one ear, and both earlobes had been extended outwards with colourful disks. They had also chemically altered their hair. Dying it virulent colours that looked like they could supply their own illumination.
According to their physiognomy, they were female. A distinct and unnerving departure from the dimorphism in Thax's own species.
When she spoke, Thax expected a gruff and harsh voice. Thax expected incorrectly.
"Hello, pretty birdie," she cooed. "My name's Zo. Can you pronounce that, or would you like something easier?" She had pitched and modulated her voice into perfectly soothing and gentle tones. Just right for a Deathworlder communicating with a Havenworlder.
Thax recentered herself. Humans were Deathworlders. They were also the best Deathworlders for protecting Havenworlders against the slings and arrows of a cruel universe. An irony that was not lost on most species coming into the Edge Territories. They were frail, and they knew it. The Galactic Alliance was safe, but the most scientifically interesting stuff always happened on the edges, where things were generally less so.
"I can pronounce Zo," Thax allowed. "Thank you for accommodating me."
Human Zo was careful to smile with her mouth closed. "It's not a problem. I've worked with Galactics before. I have my own home pod that can dock with most Galactic ships, so I can keep my refreshments out of your preferred atmosphere."
This counted as a good mark on her profile. "My information is limited access. Can you please clarify the three states of Human, stated as 'yes', 'no', and 'hold my drink'?"
Human Zo covered her mouth as she laughed. "That is a... cynical way of putting it. To clarify... 'yes' is the mode in which a Human is enthusiastic about a course of actions. 'No' is the mode in which a Human will stubbornly resist a course of actions. 'Hold my drink' is a mode in which a Human has come up with a potentially dangerous course of actions that have unexpected consequences, and a high likelihood of disturbing Havenworlders like you." It took some time to spot, but she had shaped her teeth. The ends of her frontal dentin had square zig-zags cut into them. For the record, I attempt to stay in the 'yes' region."
"And the -er- modifications?"
"My choice, of course. They make me feel powerful and like a bad-ass." She flexed her ample muscles. "Helps that it throws off a lot of the toughs out there. Nobody messes with me much."
Thax had heard the term 'preventative camouflage' but had never encountered anything that fit it until this moment.
"I have testimonials," Human Zo offered, sharing a series of endorsements from others that she had escorted through the Edge. "What's your gig?"
Thax had to check her slanguage dictionary. Gig, an event in which Humans perform, either artistically, or as a service to others. "This shouldn't be much more than a standard escort mission. I am surveying a planetoid in the orbit of the star #2EC-JIM90."
"The star system Jim? Anything in the Goldilocks zone or are you looking at the outliers?"
"Er..." another consultation with her apps. "We are specifically looking at the fourth planet from that star."
"Yeah, we should be cool. I know some people in the station between there and the third. I can swing you clearance. Odds are, what you're after isn't what we're after."
The whole star system had been marked as Extremely Hazardous to Life. "There are Humans living there?" Thax yawped.
"Got a baby colony on the second planet, and a station out between third and fourth. Nothing big. Mining, mostly. The should be okay with it. Fourth planet's a bit of a shithole right now."
Thax had to wonder, given the Human presence already there, what the Deathworlders would consider unpleasant.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Spectral]
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