Amalgam Universe

Holiday prompt the third! Author’s choice what the human shows their companion, as long as it goes pear-shaped

[AN: This story precedes yesterday’s]

Deathworlder entertainments are not advised for non-Deathworlders, said the Wikipedia Galactica, only the native life forms of a Deathworld can withstand even the most allegedly gentle of their entertainment vehicles. Though the Deathworlders insist that these entertainments are safe, be advised that they are only safe for Deathworlders.

Rael could easily believe, and understand those words, now. Especially ones he looked over the tallest peaks of a ride calling itself The Bone Bruiser. And very much especially you once he saw the look on Shayde’s face. It was a decidedly unholy and Deathworlder expression of anticipatory glee.

The same look, he recalled, she got when she saw the Space Elevator.

“No. Absolutely not. No way. I am not riding that with you.“

“Come on, yer the toughest thing there is next tae me! There’s no way it could hurt you. Yer vacuum-rated, and impact-proof. Ye could take a swim in lava, parkour around asteroids, and finish it up with a dip in liquid nitrogen.”

It was times like this, Rael regretted telling her that his species’ specs were publicly available. “One: just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to. Two: I am alpha-test. I do not want to find out where my factory flaws are the painful way. Three: there’s very little that you could offer to convince me.”

She took this as a challenge. “They do deep-fried chocolate cake…”

Curse her for knowing exactly how to bribe him. “Slices or whole?”

“How aboot a slice afore, an’ a whole one after?“

*

People were staring. He couldn’t really blame them, it wasn’t every day that a cogniscent turned completely silver in front of their eyes.

The memory of the ride, and their escape haunted him in flashes of vivid detail. The moment he knew that Shayde knew he was in trouble. The way that her face dropped from enthusiastic joy too worried terror as her eyes swirled from cheerful gold to a sickly chartreuse.

Her immediate reaction was to grab him and pull them both through their own shadows.

There was a moment of absolute darkness. Absolute cold. And somehow, terrifying voices demanding that they take his place.

And then, the blistering burst of genuine sunlight. Repeated impacts against the soft, cushioning walls of the bouncy castle. And her arms, tight around him, as she wept tearful apologies into his shoulder.

It took four medtechs just to get her away from him.

You need to visit a visit to the Med Bay, but it was a close thing. Some mis-assigned instinct to regurgitate had battled furiously with his designed desire to hang on to every last calorie he got.

Thankfully, she had calmed down once they announced he would be fine.

And once the medtechs cleared away, he could see that she had fetched him a Double-Dog Dare Platter from Deep-Fried Everything. With spray cream, and spray cheese, and chocolate sprinkles.

Now, he sat quietly, clinging to his reflective blanket and picking gingerly at the feast before him. Shayde sat opposite the bench, primed and ready to dash for anything he desired. And snivelling quietly into handkerchief.

“I thought ye’d be awreet,” she repeated intermittently. “I’m sorrah. I’m reet sorrah…”

This felt worse than a trip through a wormhole. At least going through Hyperspace included the need to eat. “How silver was I?“

“Fall-blown smooth mirror.“

She was right to be terrified for him. As he recalled, the next stage up in hazard signs was complete torpor with flashing, luminous spots at regular intervals. “Next time, assuming I consent to a next time… we work our way up.”

“Babbie Funland it is, then,” she agreed. “After ye get yer calories in.”

[Muse food remaining: 14. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Vote for my stuff!]

The holiday continues, introducing the friend to things like non-irradiated cheese, actual lemons, and real dumplings

It started small. Well, comparatively small. A steaming curry at a van vendor, swimming in grease and overloaded with turmeric rice.

What followed was a tour of all the places that still sold unsuitable or unexportable food. Haggis, Casu marzu, Lutefisk. Pizza cones. Powdered doughnut pancake surprise. Death By Chocolate cake.

And now it finished here.

If it wasn’t the birthplace of Unsuitable Food Eat,

Well, at least the human was excited about the holiday, however ill-advised taking the trip to Earth with them was going to be…

“Thereitis, thereitis! Earth. Aw… it mostly looks the same…”

“I did tell you that it’s been five hundred years since your departure. Geographically, little has changed.”

“I’m goin’ tae stop in at Wales. Go see what’s happened tae home.”

Rael, a little more prepared, had tried to find Shayde’s ‘home’ on a map.

There were a line of little heads on the mat near the bed, just the heads. The damn cat had been at it again!

Sandra drew her toes up again and hid them under her comforter. It wasn’t a straight line. More of a curve. All those dead, bloodied little heads. Arranged in something of a semicircle in a kind of post-mortem worship of her bed.

And in came the cat. Black, sleek and proud. Smirking at his fine achievement. Tail

After the omlette incident, realising exactly how much human food, like cake or pies or snacks, involve eggs.

Day 3.

Hen eggs declared non-cogniscent food. Also declared sterile. Also declared offensive. Further adjudication necessary.

Day 5.

Adjudication finished. Human can consume extant eggs, but only in utter privacy and behind offensensitivity shielding. The human must not consume any more eggs or egg-based products while aboard Science Vessel Sigma-Four.

“WHAT?” Sta-see yawped. Humans could get loud. At least she had been trained to

The unthinking introduction of an omlette to a birdlike alien species.

“What are orbs?” said the assigned Human Watcher. So far, it hadn’t been as dangerous or nasty as she’d been lead to believe. Ri’ki’ki was starting to believe that all the stories were just… stories.

“Eggs,” said the human. Her name was Sta-see. Or something close enough. She was organising her little kitchen according to her own rules.

“You having egg in stasis? They is never hatch.

Prompt: A Lilo and Stitch-esque scene with numidid and surfing humans.

T’yoree was frequently trotted out as an example as to why scientists should not be allowed to breed. She had, even to the humans, the self-preservation instincts of a concussed whelk.

As a keet, she would ride the larger dogs and invented the concept of Frisbee Dodge-em.

Some said that the natural Deathworlder attitude towards risk had rubbed off on her.

And she was the first Numidid to surf. Of

“You do That! for fun?”

“What the heck is that?”

Charlie peered past Kress’ shoulder. “Oh. That’s my wingsuit. I use it for base jumping.”

Kress screwed up her saurian features. “Base… Jumping.”

“Yeah,” Charlie grinned. She started to bounce in her enthusiasm. “It’s like skydiving, only instead of jumping out of a plane, you jump off of something really tall, build up speed with the suit, and then rip silk.” She hastily amended, “Uh. That means