Amalgam Universe

A 2291-post collection

Challenge #00919-B188: Here's to the Parents

a quote from historian Will Durant as I remember it. “Let me give tribute to all those Mothers, who over time dragged their children kicking and screaming through centuries of Civilization.” I presume he means the good Mums. Have fun.

“Say-shun! Say-shun!” Sprout ricocheted around the cabin, enjoying the free-fall before docking. “SAY-SHUN!”

Gavin fielded her on the fifth pass. “Settle down. Sprout. We gotta remember Rule One when we dock. What’s Rule One?”

“S'ay close.”

“That’s right. Good girl. We stay close. Now. Who do we stay close to?”

Sprout pointed at him.

“Yes! We stay close to each other. Now Papap has to talk to some boring people, so the first thing you’re gonna do is have an adventure in the kindergarten.”

Sprout frowned. “Rule one. S’ay close.”

“Well, Papap figured you wouldn’t like being in a boring room with boring grownups talking. Right?”

Sprout sucked her thumb as she thought this over. Eventually, she nodded.

“Right. It’s way more fun at kindergarten. There’s lots of toys, and lots of other children, and there’s fun big toys like see-saw’s and slippery slides and swings. If you’re lucky, there might even be a sand pit.”

Sprout looked skeptical. And no wonder. She’d spent almost her entire life aboard The Rusty Rustler. Big toys were unknown territory.

“And when we’re done, you can help Papap spend all his profits. I know you will. We’re gonna get new clothes, and good food. And we’re gonna put flowers on Momma’s grave. And if things go right? We’re gonna buy a place to live on the Station. Papap’s going to find some stay-in work. Won’t that be good?”

Sprout shook her head. “Wanna ‘vencha.”

“I know, darlin’. But adventuring on a solo scavenger ship is not good for a little Sprout. You need people to talk to other than your old Papap.”

She was three years old. And it hurt to see tears in her eyes. “Papap s'ay close. Don’ go ‘way.”

He’d told her that her Momma had ‘had to go away’ after she’d died. The only time Sprout remembered being on a station was when someone died and her short life changed forever. Gavin hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. “Papap’s gonna try his hardest, sweetie.”

“Her real name’s Sequoia, but I call her Sprout,” Papap told the strange lady. She wore a brown knit suit the colour of poops and smelled like flowers. It was a sticky, intense smell. The belt around her middle was hung with a variety of shiny, interesting objects that rattled whenever she moved.

Sprout clung resolutely to Papap’s leg. Her knuckles gone white. Papap’s hand was warm on top of her head. Comforting.

The stranger knelt. “Hello Sequoia? Will you let me call you ‘Sprout’ too?”

Sprout shook her head. She didn’t trust this stranger. She didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t even trust that the three bracelets on both ankles and one arm were going to keep her safe. She wanted Papap to stay close.

“Why don’t we have a look together? If you don’t like the looks of this place… I’m pretty sure the boring people won’t mind you colouring in a corner.”

Papap let her hang tight to him as they entered…

…a rainbow wonderland of play. Other brown-suited grownups stood watching or played with many other children. Some were her size. Some bigger. And some were smaller. They were all laughing and having fun. They were loud. It wasn’t the wrong kind of loud, the loud that made Papap put her in the pod until he took care of things. This was… fun loud. Like games of Tig or Sing As Loud As You Can Nights.

And they had an entire tub of tinkertoys!

Sprout let go of Papap’s hand.

“You wanna stay?”

Nod.

“Papap has to go and be boring. You gonna be okay?”

Nod. This was just like Papap’s EVA, when he went out the danger door to fix this. The only difference was that she didn’t have a comm link to hear his voice. But then, no comm link she knew of could combat the noise of so many children having fun.

Papap kissed her and let her kiss him back. “Stay safe, Sprout.”

“S’ay safe, Papap.”

Okay. Good news - this trip of urgency had been profitable enough for them to move on to the station. And there were enough low-risk jobs to pick from once Sprout and himself picked out a place, he could pick one of the dozens nearby.

And if he sold The Rusty Rustler… He’d have himself some good funds to help Sprout out.

One of the red-shirted Child Supervisors was waiting for him at the door. “O thank the Powers you’re here.”

Abject terror. “Something happen to Sprout?”

“Not… exactly…” She had made a terrifying mask out of play dough and scared some of the little ones. Drawn alarming pictures that had the novice Supervisors concerned until they learned that Sprout spent most of her life in space. Would not share the food she had made at cooking skills with the others because it was ‘for Papap’. Built an enclosure around herself and the foodstuffs with tinkertoys and threatened anyone who came close with a pair of craft scissors.

Gavin entered the playground to see Sprout huddled defensively in her tinkertoy cage. She’d been smart about it, anchoring parts into the larger structure of the play gym, and was ready to make a permanent mark with safety scissors.

“Sprout,” he sighed. “This is not playing nice.”

Now she cried. Between sobs, sounds that could have aligned with, “They wan’ed ‘a ead id all…” escaped her.

He took one, to calm her down and show that Papap got the food she made. Then he declared it so yummy that he just had to share it with everyone. Thus satisfying the needs of the curriculum.

Only after all feathers were settled and all messes tidied, did Sprout get the lecture about playing nice and being good. She would have to wait one day more for ice cream at Unsuitable Food Eat, and had to stick with Papap during the second part of the boring stuff. Sitting in a corner. Being quiet.

A sentence worse than death, according to Sprout. She spent a good ten minutes in that corner crying. He let her have three more in silence before he declared it was all right to sit on his lap.

Station Administration was understanding, at least. And the advised daily visits with a counsellor until Sprout was ready to socialise. And in the meantime, Gavin was going to make sure Sprout learned how to deal with their neighbours.

He hoped they were ready for her.

[Muse food remaining: 11. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]

Challenge #00915-B184: Wheeeeeeeeee!

Rolling down a hill is a valid use of your time.

Rael reached the top of the hill. There were not enough sweet treats in the human lexicon to pay for this much ‘just wanderin’ to his mind.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “We’ve reached the top of the hill. Now what?”

“We lie down,” said Shayde.

“For the last time, I am not engaging in extreme haptic communication with you.”

“I’m no’ askin’ ye to,” she said. “We lie down. Then

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Challenge #00914-B183: Cautious Eaters

Some species evolved without certain chemicals in their background, or with them causing no effect. Therefore they never evolved a receptor for it. Meanwhile others had to identify toxins or marker chemicals immediately and are highly sensitive even if it’s unnecessary -ie bitter vegetables -. This leads to nonplussed galactic citizens wondering why the deathworlder took a bite of that boring stuff and immediately gagged or refused it entirely because it smelled like pure evil.

Food unites. Meals shared tend to

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Challenge #00913-B182: The Challenge of Challenging

So capsaicin is dangerous, and even the species that can eat it recreationally recognise the effects as painful. Mint, on the other hand, even in high doses, causes no such thing. (L-Carvone (spearmint) at least appears totally harmless). Safe fun food for everyone?

Humans are insane. No other species makes a game out of painful ingredients in otherwise harmless things. No other species combines schadenfreude and friendship, and expects the friendship to continue.

And no other species can convince otherwise sane cogniscents

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Challenge #00912-B181: Mama Hen-Bear

The adventures of Tyr’ip and her big scary bodyguard mother hens.

(does this make her technically the species ambassador? Not a galactic ambassador I guess since her people are already part of the community and if there was one for every species encounter there’d be billions of them but still)

[Galactic ambassadors generally stand for their native planet and, in the case of low-gravvers and nomadic ship-tribes, habitation construct.]

It had been quite the journey. The humans formed a walking

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Challenge #00907-B176: SUO's - Small Useful Objects

A lot of us have a “kit” stuff we cart/tote everywhere, stuff we need. Mothers carry stuff to feed,amuse and cope with the Sprogs. Crafts people carry weird stuff(well I do). So what does a Joat carry? Or pick another character/profession and add kit.

Rael could tell a newbie JOAT. It was the way their limbs trembled
under the weight of the gear in their coats. And the gentle ‘ping’ of
stitching giving way under the stress. He

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Challenge #00900-B169: Mama Bear

Murphy’s law of Babies 2:  Toddler gone? It’s with the humans.

Nita almost didn’t notice the curious little Numidid until she nearly stepped on the poor child. She was big for a human, and this little scrap of pinfeathers barely cleared her boot.

“Whoops,” she said. “Hello, little peep. Where did you come from?”

Alas, the tiny child was still talking Scribble. Multilingual Scribble, but still Scribble. It varied between Numidid, Amity English, and Galstand. She sounded irritated, and

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Challenge #00899-B168: Rule of Innocence

Murphy’s law of Babies: When you look away for two seconds and your child has absconded, it will invariably be found in whatever situation would cause the quickest messy death or most political upheaval if an adult were in the same situation.

Luckily children can get away with anything by virtue of being children, and will not be immediately vaporised for hiding behind Graknor, Conqueror of Galaxies’ legs.

Sahra let her toddler go so she could tuck herself back in. Poor

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Challenge #00898-B167: Rule of Cute

Observation: The more fragile a species is, the less danger it is in (physically) from the humans. The ones that can withstand them are treated aggressively and with much suspicion, and the dainty little ones are coddled and cooed over. And petted if the humans can get away with it.

[AN: Just FYI, not all Havenworlders are tiny. But loads of them are]

It should have been an ordinary shortcut. Just a quick dash home to pick up her LifeAlert bracelet. She

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Challenge #00897-B166: Adult Onset Responsibility

So if the first person to contact another world is automatically ambassador, what happens if an accident involves first contact being between the alien civilisation and Bigot McAssface, who would fit right in on that Greater Deregulation. Specifically, the rest of BMA’s civilisation, especially the ones interested in galactic alliance, would usually say the complete opposite of anything he does, but now he’s their galactic spokesperson.

[AN: This story will contain slurs because my main character is an arsehole]

“Keeping

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Challenge #00891-B160: Nil Mortifi Sans Lucre?

FAQ Assassins

- Business hours are 9:00 to 5:30
- Please deposit last will and testament in box below
- Knock and remove shoes before entering

They say that life is cheap on Ghiisham, and they are correct. Life is cheap. You get one for free. Living can be expensive and death, though inevitable, is much more expensive than taxes.

Especially if you want it tailored.

Junior assassin Mykoss looked up at the client. They were all over sores and

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Challenge #00890-B159: Absolute Power...

Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est - Knowledge itself is power

Knowledge is power. The knowledge of physics allows many species access to space travel.

Power corrupts. Those with the power to conquer worlds will do so.

Those with the knowledge of how to fight back… sometimes fail to apply it. They have better ways.

“This system is now ours,” boomed the bird before them. “You will serve us in all things you do.”

“As you will,” said the Chief Librarian.

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Challenge #00888-B157: Station of Babel

Everybody panics in their own language.

This was where JOATs came into the fore. Electronic translators had
their limits, and one of the most prevalent of those limits was
breaching the Understanding Barrier.

Grammar is important. Especially in a panic situation.

Thus, in an emergency, the most level heads of the JOAT community come to the fore.

Shayde
stood on one of the plinths, using her own passive magic to make herself understood to all listeners. “Please proceed in an orderly
fashion

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Challenge #00885-B154: Dawn Technology

“Like many other things, if you know what you’re doing, an open fire isn’t particularly dangerous.” Says the person wearing no safety gear, having lit a campfire with flint and steel and currently rearranging the burning sticks barehanded.

“You’re… burning raw cellulose,” said the alien, through its translator. “There is no safety equipment.”

“Got a shovel,” soothed Tanja. “Got loads of sand. We’re good.”

“You are not knowing if this cellulose is loaded with toxins.”

“I live

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Challenge #00883-B152: Stress Indicators

Hiccups.

“But… I can’t be an ambassador,” Lalama protested. “I’d be the worst. HIC! There’s a reason -hic- there’s a reason -hoik- a reason I -hic- I went for -hiku- for Oort mining.”

“Well understood,” said Ruraha. She was a saurian. “Galactic law is not on your side. Friend Yayama… is breathing problem medical-dangerous?”

“No, I -hic- I just get -hyurk- get hiccups when -hroooip- when I’m nerv– HIC! Nervous.”

“But… you are

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