“What the Heck are they doing?”
“They’re having Fun.”
This is a line from a Very old Movie called The Boatnicks„ See what you can do with it, not necessarily to do with boats, could be anything us humans think of as fun.
2. . Jam, treacle, puffed rice. Who would have thought it could be used as a weapon.
3. “Once you open a can of worms, it takes two cans to get them back.” have fun.
(1)
Usually, the Numidid said, when deathworlders meet havenworlders, the deathworlders win. They take over by force of numbers, by disease, by war, by famine, and in most cases, by their sheer capacity for breeding.
Humans were the first known deathworlders to try and make everything even for everybody.
Can’t glide like the Numidid? Humans will engineer wingsuits that turn unaerodynamic apes into the best fliers.
Not as fast or as tireless as a Human? They have a special breed of horse that will carry you in a smooth and level gait, and help you keep up with your human associate.
They defied death on a daily basis.
And they invented strange passtimes.
T'reka watched in curiosity as the young humans hauled themselves up to the branches of a sky-raker tree by means of a swing seat attached to a set of pulleys. Once up, they would lower the seat for the next child. Those already on the branch waited in a queue to get to the outer part of the branch and then leap off, relying on nothing but the fabric attached to their harnesses to keep them from grievous injury upon landing.
She would not be shocked if those demi-spheres of fabric were made from cellulose.
T'reka finally swallowed her trepidation and lit by an adult helping the young fold their deflated demi-spheres for the next trip.
“What are they doing?” she begged.
“They are having fun,” smiled the human.
Of course. They were deathworlders.
(2)
Captain Pam was an unassuming woman who tended to call everyone “dear” or “sweetie”. She was nice to everyone she met, and polite as she could be.
Which made people wonder how she came to be the leader of the Bloody Fang Pirates.
Some would say she made most of her Time by telling her story, and she was glad to tell it. And it went like this:
Oh, it was years ago now, when my little Lynn was just a toddler. The Bloody Fang captured my freighter and demanded poor Lynn as a hostage. She’s all grown now, but she was nearly at the terrible twos, then. And she could escape anything. Her playpen, her clothes… I lost count of the number of times I had to fetch her in an escape pod, naked as a jay, and covered in something sticky.
So I didn’t just give them my Lynn. I gave them some food for her. Treacle, jam and puffed rice. Three of her favourites at the time.
Do any of you have small children? No? Then you have no idea what a devil puffed rice is. I had to buy a gengineered critter just to keep it out of my air vents. We called it Rover.
Anyway, I went into my cell as quiet as you please. Did you know the Bloody Fang used to make their internal bulkheads out of toffee? Peanut brittle to be precise. I figured it might slow my little Lynn down, a bit, but it wasn’t long before the screaming started anyway.
Never act scared of a baby. They think it’s funny.
I think it took a sum total of three hours for them to surrender. And a further half hour to get all the stuff out of Lynn’s hair. And being a good businesswoman, I taught them all how to make better money at what they do. It was just natural.
Oh, and I’m the inventor of the Sticky-puff bomb, for all my sins. Nasty job it does on the air. And once you have a Spacer’s air, you have their undivided attention.
May I have another drink, dear? Thanks very much.
(3)
Everyone thinks that Ghishem is a lawless system. This might be largely due to the sheer volumes of what other planets call crime in there.
But, however, should one attempt to travel through official channels, you will find the most intensely tangled gordian knot of red tape ever conceived by the minds of Lovecraftian demons.
And yet - humans came up with it.
Tangle with Ghishem law, it was said, and be prepared to lose the rest of your life to forms and madness. And it was in this madness that Captain Krik was trying to extract hirself.
“It is not my department,” sneered the clerk.
“I was informed it was,” said the Captain. “I need to obtain form E98-TY234 in order to retrieve my vessel from impoundment and get the flakk off this damnable planet. To get that form, I need form 3459-HY87-B to get form EGRY8-345BKJ, to get form 3498Y-MBN34. But in order to get any of that, I have to start with FR5B4-Y238-K. Which I was told was your department.”
A single raised eyebrow. A consultation of a computer, one precise keypress at a time. The metronomic tick-tack of the keys soon matched the twitch under Captain Krik’s eyelid.
“Ah yes. FR5B4-Y238-K… sadly you must first fill out R42-085UY-8E4.”
The Captain let out a very undiplomatic growl. Carnage was soon to follow.
It was then that one of Krik’s companion crewmembers (they were taking it in shifts by now) came up to the counter looking angry. “Excuse me,” said the human. Her name, as far as Krik could pronounce it, was Lor-el. “Excuse me! In order to issue R42-085UY-8E4, you first have to complete the competency test for form 8623SK-1D00. Have you actually done so?”
“Er,” said the clerk. And quickly ran off.
Krik looked stunned and amazed. “Crewman, what–”
“It’s okay, Cap,” soothed Lor-el. “I’ll take it from here.”
Krik followed in increasing confusion as Lor-el went from office to random office, demanding that each clerk fill out or qualify to fill out form 8623SK-1D00. It took her half an hour to get the entire administrative complex busier than an ant’s nest looking for this purely mythical form.
And just when they were at their peak of panic, she idly asked the extremely terrified and occupied clerk for the original form E98-TY234.
They had it in a drawer, and were eager to get rid of her in their hurry to find form 8623SK-1D00.
“Et voila,” smirked Lor-el.
“You’ve earned a promotion, a paid holiday, and shares in the fleet,” boggled Krik. “How did you know to do that?”
Lor-el smirked. “Saw something like it in an archival cartoon, once. When we’re safely away, do remind me to tell you about Asterix the Gaul.”
[Muse food remaining: 15. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]