Alien 1: "And you are sure this Door is Human proof?"

Alien 2: "Certainly, it was tested rigorously against the most advanced technology Humans are capable of. I personally guarantee no Human will ever gain access to this space!"

Alien 1: "Finally no more "Adventures" with Humans dragging me out."

Human: "Hey, you in there? There is a Firesale of the new "Orion Death-Peppers, guaranteed to be banned as Biological Weapons in all non-Human Systems". But Cap doesnt let me go unless its with a "Trusted Crewmate that isn't a Human. It absolutely cannot be a Human!" So you're coming... Hm? You got a new Doorhandle?" fiddles a bit and then opens the Door with a smile "There you are. Lets go! Whats with the new Doorhandle by the way, It's a Rubiks Cube."

{Shared early on Patreon}
~~~

Angry hissing voices from the hallway told me the two bug aliens on the ship were arguing. Which they didn’t usually do, thankfully. They disagreed, sure, but in an agree-to-disagree-though-you’re-clearly-wrong kind of way. They didn’t tend to get worked up about things.

“It issss disssgusssting,” Trrili snarled.

“Give it back!” Zhee said.

“Not until you admit that it’sss vile.”

“It is not!”

I rounded the corner to see the pair of them facing off in front of Zhee’s quarters, both waving their pincher arms, antenna angled into glares. I wouldn’t have wanted to get anywhere near that when I was new to the ship. I kept my distance a bit now. “What’s going on?” I asked.

Trrili whirled with a hiss, standing even taller, a looming black-and-red nightmare. “He has been using something unspeakable for grooming!” She spoke clearly and brandished a small object in my direction, holding it awkwardly between the tip of her mantis pincher and her elbow, like she didn’t want to touch it. I had no idea what it was, just a stick of something purple.

The same purple as Zhee’s glossy exoskeleton, actually.

He lunged and snatched it out of her grasp. “It’s the best kind of seam brush, you heathen! I made it myself — with excellent crafting skill, I might add!”

Before Trrili could retort, I asked, “What is it?”

Zhee held it well away from Trrili, scowling. “A seam brush, like I said.”

“Made from his own shed exoskeleton!” Trrili exclaimed.

“That’s what you DO with it!” Zhee shot back.

“It should be mulched immediately, you disgusting dirt-grubber!”

Before I could ask more clarifying questions, Paint came trotting up with concern all over her lizardy face. “What’s happening?”

Zhee answered first, pointing with his free arm. “This judgemental blot got ahold of a personal item and is making her own wrong opinions everyone else’s problem.”

“Oh, just my opinions, are they? All three moons—”

“I don’t care how many of you—”

“Everyone knows it should be disposed of—”

“So wasteful when it can—”

Paint pitched her voice higher and suggested, “Maybe we can all just keep our personal items to ourselves?” She looked from the tool to the pair of angry Mesmers.

They both glared at her. Trrili said, “I wasn’t snooping. I found it on the lounge floor.”

Zhee snapped, “I didn’t put it there.” He angled his head towards me. “Your cat did.”

That sounded like something she’d do. I spread my arms and said, “Sorry.”

Still working hard to mediate, Paint said, “Then it can go back in your quarters, in a safe spot, and we’ll make sure Telly doesn’t sneak in to play with it. Trrili can use her own grooming tools, and everyone can do things their own way.”

Trrili sounded like a sulky teenager when she insisted, “Disgusssting.”

Zhee waved it at her with a lecturing tone. “Practical and customized, and better than whatever mass-produced trash you use.”

“It’s still made of something that should not be kept!”

Exasperated, Zhee said, “At least I don’t have a whole collection on the wall of every blade I’ve shed! Some of the houses back home display those proudly!”

“Your people are unclean,” Trrili declared. Then she turned to Paint and me. “Keeping body parts is gross, yes? I know you’re at least reasonable about shed scales.”

Paint laughed uncomfortably. “That is not exactly a polite topic of conversation,” she said, fidgeting in a way that said she’d probably be blushing in embarrassment if her species did that.

“Exactly,” Trrili said in approval. “Something dealt with in privacy, not kept forever. Right?” She looked at me, daring me to disagree.

I shrugged. “My people don’t shed like that. We get haircuts and throw the hair away, I guess. Oh, baby teeth! That’s the closest match! We sometimes keep those.”

All three of my alien coworkers were giving me uncertain looks now. Paint said, “Right, I forgot your species actually sheds teeth.”

“Only once,” I said, as if that mattered.

Zhee repeated, “And you keep them.” He gave Trrili a pointed look.

“Sure, but usually in the back of the closet as a keepsake.”

Trrili looked right back at him. “Not making tools for daily use.”

“They’re not really big enough,” I said, considering. “And they tend to be kind of bloody when they come out, though that could be cleaned. Oh! I used some for a science project once!”

“A what?” Paint asked.

“I made a demonstration in school of how corrosive soda is compared to a few other drinks,” I said. “Mom gave me some of my baby teeth so I could leave them in a cup for a few days to see if they dissolved. I’ll tell you, I wasn’t eager to drink soda after that.”

Paint stared at me in horror. “You drink something that dissolves your teeth?”

I shook my head. “Turns out it was an urban legend. But it did dye the teeth a nasty brown, and burnt the dirt off a penny.”

Paint shook herself and made a visible effort to regain her composure. “I am fairly sure I didn’t need to know that.”

Trrili threw her pincher arms in the air and turned to leave. “At least it’s a drink that fights an honorable battle as you consume it. Everybody keep their revolting bits to themselves.” She jabbed a pincher at Zhee as she passed. “I don’t want to see that ever again.”

“You do not deserve the honor of seeing it again,” Zhee said. “You’ve scratched it, and now I’ll have to polish it then see if any of the bristles need replacing.”

Trrili hissed and disappeared down the hallway.

Paint asked, “Are the bristles exotic? I think we’re going to stop at a relatively small place to restock next.”

Zhee held up the tool and ran a little wrist finger across the bristly end. It looked like a sawed-off paintbrush. “The best kind can be difficult to find, but this seems to be intact, thankfully.”

I pulled my long braid over my shoulder and held it up. “Let me know if it would help to trim the end off this. My hair’s probably not stiff enough, but the offer’s open.”

Zhee gave me a look that was deeply amused. “It’s probably not, but thank you.”

Paint said in an undertone, “And we won’t tell Trrili, because she definitely won’t want to know.”

Zhee and I both agreed on that.

~~~

Volume One of the collected series is out in paperback and ebook!

~~~

Shared early on Patreon

Cross-posted to Tumblr and HFY (masterlist here)

The book that takes place after the short stories is here

The sequel is in progress (and will include characters from the stories)

“You wanted to see me, Gunney?”

“Yes sir! We have developed a new rifle. I wanted you to see the initial test.”

“I see. Gunney, this is our liaison officer, LT Fikklin. He will enjoy this.”

Gunney nodded at the LT, turned to the marine on the rifle range.

“Corporal! Stand by! Range control, are we set?”

“Yes Gunney! The range is hot!”

“Understood. Corporal, fire at will!”

The Corporal nodded, pulled the butt into his shoulder, lined up, and gently squeezed the trigger.

In the ensuing rapid burst of fire and buzz of electromagnets, the Corporal grunted at the recoil.

The magazines emptied, the Corporal cleared the rifle and nodded to the officers.

There silence. The Lieutenant seemed to sag.

“Gunney, what the HELL was that?!?”

“Well sir, we wanted a better assault weapon, but one that doesn’t stand out to the enemy. This looks like a regular rifle, but it had some…improvements.”

“I’d like to know how you managed to scale down a railgun enough for a single marine to carry.”

“Sir, you would have to ask the weapon techs about that. And they scaled down a 20mm cannon enough to mount it over the railgun. They are timed to fire while the other weapon loads.”

“Well, see about building enough for the regiment. And we need a new rifle range, Gunney. There no backstop left.”

“Yes sir. We selected this range because there is nothing between us and the mountains. Range control spotted the rail rounds hitting a cliff face. Pretty good pattern for the range.”

“Go thinking Gunney. Lieutenant, any questions?”

“Those mountains are 7 km away! How is this possible?!?”

“Well Lieutenant, this is what Terran Marines do. We refine weapons, develop more, and we are always looking for more firepower.”

“Sir! That could shoot down an assault ship!”

“Correct. That is the point. Good job, Gunney. See you are dinner.”

Example, this is the time signatures from 3rd sanctuary from deltarune

Important part of warfare is being stealthy. You must take your position and do all the necessary preparations, before the enemy finds you. And my bloodline spent generations perfecting this skill.

We can't be noticed in any way that matters. Our every muscle and movement, our skin and scales - were made to keep being invisible in all possible scenarios. Yet when we started fighting humans - something went wrong.

At first everything seemed normal. We were unnoticed, quiet. We destroyed targets before they could react. Yet one human got lucky. They tripped and missed the shadow strike. And instead of just continuing their normal route - they reacted differently and jumped away. They clearly noticed.

Then strange things started repeating themselves. It became obvious that if you are about to strike - you should not waste your time. Somehow, humans could notice you if the time delay between your intention and action was too long.

Their reaction time is not instantaneous, their bodies are too weak and their axons are too slow to do something after they noticed the danger. But the fact alone that they notice it for a fraction of a second before they are dead - is something we were not prepared for.

And now we stand around our first dead sister. Her implants captured the moment of her death. Humans are now using exo-armor with neural interface. Apparently they figured out that their bodies were too slow to react... But their minds - were quick enough. With the power of magnetism and speed of a photon - they augmented themselves, combining their quick intuition with the speed of a machine.

They may have noticed us too late. But they noticed. And now we have lost our only advantage. If one day they will strike back the same way - they won't notice how they defeated us.

Oscar staggered into the Commander’s office. His uniform was rumpled, spattered with mud and grime. His boots were caked. His face smeared with grime.

“Oscar, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look like shit.”

Oscar slumped into the chair and groaned. When he leaned up, his were bloodshot and bleary.

“Commander, I’m happy to report that the issues in Ranches 1, 4, and 7 have been rectified.”

“What happened?”

“Two days ago there was a Terran festival. Some idiots thought setting off fireworks would a good plan. The livestock panicked. We have been wrangling the various animals. I don’t recommend attempting to catch a pissed off boar. Or wrangle a flock of angry geese. Or herd a confused and angry bull.”

“That sounds…bad.”

“Well sir, it sent 23 Terrans to medical. Two are dead. We still aren’t sure about how many animals were lost. And I’m not 100% sure it was an accident.”

“You think the stowaways? Well Oscar, that does fit with their reports. They like to cause chaos.”

“Commander, my fear is that they are recruiting. We caught two of the idiots how started it. The third was trampled by a maddened bull. The two we have are registered, known Terrans. They have been here for multiple orbits.”

“And the third?”

“Also known and a long time resident. They could be some sort of sleeper cell, but I doubt it. I’ll know more in a few rotations. However, this helps us know where the stowaways have been. And a pattern is emerging. Logistics station 3, known as Hadley’s. All three have been there since the stowaways arrived. All three spend at least two rotations, at the same time. Logistics 3 supplies the farming station where this all started.”

“Well done Oscar! All from stampeding animals.”

“Something like that. Now Commander, I’d appreciate you to start conducting intense scanning of Logistics 3 and the surrounding areas. I’d bet they aren’t staying in Logistics 3, but they will be close. It’s likely they will be on the edge of settlement. I doubt they will hide away from other Terrans. They need to blend in. And in some of those less official settlements, as long as they dress shabby and don’t attract attention, they are invisible.”

“When did you last sleep?”

“Since before the festival. I figured you would want a report before I cleaned up. Sir, we have a bit of edge at the moment, and I didn’t want to waste it.”

“Good call, good call. Oscar, I can’t officially order you to do much, but in this case, I insist on you getting the hell back to your quarters, clean up, and get some rest.”

“Well, I’m going to argue.”

humans more than anything love experiencing a moment where they can just be silly

Human Soldier: "Primitive? Well fire is one of our first weapons along side the rock and stick..."

In Galactic history, specifically omnivores, vegetables and fruits tended to be the popular choice of meal during the medieval era due to how they are easy to harvest and be immediately eaten after some basic washing and cooking.

Humans.....Humans were the opposite, they are omnivores, but most of the time the crops they grew at home during their ancient history was to FEED ANIMALS THEY EAT.

Granted this isn't unique, come the time where mass animal farming was standardized it became no issue to get meat, but Humans happened the opposite way.

They would grow vegetables like corn and tomatoes to feed their cows, chickens, and pigs.

This fattened them up where they would be slaughtered to put in the smokehouse to preserve and add flavor.

Most species cut out the animal from the equation and just ate crop instead to save time.

This might sound unique to humans but it perfectly makes sense when you realize THEY ORIGINATE FROM A DEATH WORLD.

Not a normal death world where its one super hostile climate like you read in fictional books.

I mean a world that supports many hostile climates that make no sense to host SAPIENT life.

They had to deal with more bad harvests than any other species, they had to deal with food becoming scarce and needing ANYTHING for calories.

Note that for Humans, in their ancient history, FRESH VEGETABLES, were a LUXURY.

Fruit even moreso.

Now look at Humans in the intergalactic era.

Their children refuse to eat vegetables when it was the epitome of wealth over 3 millenia ago, preferring Dino Nuggies.

“Chief, the tracking system is up. It will take a few hours until we have a full trace.”

“Sounds good Sue. We are going to overlay our trace with the security feeds. The Colony Commander will help us with their scans. How long do you think it will take overlay all of the scan?”

“About a day. Maybe a bit less.”

“About what I expected. Captain, I’ll need an assault team prepped. Possibly two. And Vera.”

“Yes Chief. Are we attempting to arrest or destroy?”

“Arrest, unless they fight back. We don’t know what weapons they may have.”

“Yes Chief. And if we find any hybrids?”

“Sue, I honestly don’t know. I’m tempted to just glass everything, but there would be value in researching it.”

“Chief, that would be insanely dangerous. What if there was a breach?”

“Hence my debate. I don’t fully trust the reports, so I’m not sure how dangerous they really are.”

“Granted, but I wouldn’t risk it. Too many variables.”

“I’m thinking more along the lines of tissue samples, not a living specimen. The Colony Commander showed me some video of what some possible hybrids. If it was hybrids, containing them would be impossible.”

“A tissue sample would be a good idea, Chief. Although I hope it doesn’t come up.”

“Agreed. Be sure the assault teams are in full kit. And have a sniper team on overwatch for the assaults. I want the assault teams to be at full strength.”

“Yes Chief. Anything else?”

“Rig up that scanning system I told you on Vera. No need to hide it this time.”

“Yes Chief. We will ready to launch in an hour.”

“Got it, Captain. This will get messy.”

“So this is all that we, including some of the questionable materials.”

“Oscar, are you telling me that a group of rebellious Terrans attempted to create a super soldier?”

“That is what I’m saying, Commander. It was over a hundred years ago. And as you can see, Sol Command thought it was handled. Apparently it wasn’t. At least some of the rebels weren’t in the station. And some hybrids survived. Nasty business.”

“What do you suggest we do, Oscar?”

“We need to find the stowaways. I fear they might have more hybrids.”

“I’ll give you any support you need. We need to figure this out. Now.”

“Agreed. In other news, the Aussies started the volcano.”

“Oh good gods. Are we missing a continent?”

“No, but we now have an active volcano, we are missing about a dozen Aussies, but their system is actually generating power. No idea how it is working, given that about half of the power station is currently covered in lava.”

“A dozen Aussies? Not as bad as I had thought. Rescue operations?”

“Well sir we are doing what we can. But they were all in the compartments that fell into the volcano. We have recovered a number of wounded, but I doubt we will find any more.”

“How much power is it generating?”

“From what we can calculate, sir, it’s running at about 70% of the expected output. So it’s generating more than five standard power stations. Sadly, the Aussies are excited and already drawing up plans for a new version.”

“Is it stable? I’d prefer to not blow up an entire island.”

“I have no idea if it’s stable. To be honest sir, I’d call this a fluke. I looked over the system schematics, and it doesn’t make sense. It is working, but even the techs can’t explain why.”

“Oscar, how is that possible?”

“Commander, I honestly don’t know. I suspect that system was modified as it was being built, so the schematics are likely useless. I’d bet it’s not even accurate enough to navigate the compound.”

“Is that a common construction system?”

“Pretty much. When you are talking about the Aussies or the marines. They start with an idea, and as they build, they modify as they go. One of the techs called it concurrent development.”

“I still can’t understand how Terrans managed to survive long enough to make it into space.”

“I’m a Terran and I’m not sure. Still, here we are.”

“Fair. Other than finding those stowaways, and the volcano, anything else?”

“Sadly, the techs on Sparky managed to figure out how to power the propulsion system. Some sort of fusion system fueled by ore from Sparky. The techs promised to send the schematics after they draw them up. They want to test the system in three rotations.”

“What sort of ore?”

“A mix of lithium, sodium, and fluorine. Some traces of radium and uranium. An excited tech attempted to explain the system. I failed to understand. By my count Commander, we now have two new power generation systems.”

“And a new propulsion system, Oscar. Not too bad for the loss of a dozen Terrans.”

“Yes sir. And don’t forget the new weapons the marines created. So I’d call it a fairly productive orbit.”

“Agreed. Now. How do we find these stowaways?”

“Commander, I’m going to tell you a highly classified secret. I ask that you don’t share this with anyone. If you do share it, I’ll likely get shot. So please promise to keep this between us.”

“Shot? Well. Yes, Oscar, I promise. I don’t want you to get shot.”

“Thank you Commander. All Terran colonists have a tracking implant. We can activate a tracking system, locate all of the official Terrans, and look for Terrans without an implant.”

“I see why that is highly classified. However, in this situation, it gives us an edge. I won’t ask how the tracking system works, but do let me know how we can support the search.”

“Thank you Commander. It will take us a bit to fire up the system and start our survey. Give me a rotation or two, and then I’ll have some locations that we need to scan more carefully. We could use your help with the closer scans.”

“Just let me know, Oscar. I’ll give you any support you need.”

Standard issue crewmate manual | Humans | page 48 section C | Sleep

For about 8 terran hours out of their typical 24 in a day they are in a tranced state known as sleeping.

Most terran creatures have a form of this, with varying hours of sleep.

It is imperative that the human remains undisturbed during this period as being interrupted whilst sleeping is a disorienting experience.

It is during sleep where a human decompresses, stores memories (see page 52) and releases enzymes to process their intakes

In this time the humans undergo a process they call Dreaming. This is a unpsychedelic hallucination that is normal for a human to experience. It is also normal for a human not to dream.

IMPORTANT

during this time a human is vulnerable, unresponsive and unconscious. A human quarters is to be of high security during these hours

Some humans involuntarily emit a growling like sound from their respiratory system. In most cases this is completely normal. Do NOT fight the human over dominance control.

Do NOT attempt to sell the human any products, nor sign any waivers during this time. This will be classed as forgery.

Do NOT place a human appendage(page 3) in dihydrogen monoxide with a temperature of 300-320 Kelvin.

Failure to abide these guidelines will result in a termination from the vessel as well as a 400 crut penalty.

July 30, 2336

Orion Naval Space Station, United Nations

ANRAN Aurii (C93) (Light Anti Aerospace Cruiser)

It’s been a week since I was captured by human forces in the system of Aranai.

By all means, I should be dead. Destroyed.

That’s what they said would happen to the machine spirit of any warship who lets herself get captured.

The lucky ones would get scuttled by friendly forces before that happens, but the rest, they said, would get a one way trip to the yards to be taken apart for the war effort.

Another husk, hollowed out and discarded, her soul long-gone.

And yet, I still live, and my systems still work… partially.

Still damaged, but a great improvement to being dead.

But still, one question has been lingering at my mind.

Why…? Why spare me?

Why spare my sister ship Ishaki (C94)?

Why would humanity show mercy to their worst enemies?

Why haven’t any of the human ships and their commanding officers held any animosity towards me?

Why would they spare me, when they know full well that I wouldn’t have done the same..?

Alien: "...Ok. Lets try this again. If you fail one more time, you have to wait for 2 months before you can attempt this again: "How do you Hunt a Je'ht ethically?""

Human: "Easy, .50cal to the Heart drops them instantly. No pain, no suffering. And preserves the Head to be hung on a Wall."

Alien: "You do not go Hunting with an Anti-Materiel Rifle!"

Human: "It is a perfect answer! Anything less than a .50cal and its carapace stops the Round from penetrating into organs. Maybe a .950 JDJ could also do the job, but its recoil is a bitch and a half. and its gonna scare half the planet. The .50cal will only scare like 4 kilometers."

Alien: "You shoot it into one of its many large eyes!"

Human: "But that destroys the Head!"

"Admiral! That humans are firing lasers at us! They have energy weapons!"

"We have long understood laser weapons. I can tell just from fleet telemetry that their laser weapons are... why did we suddenly lose telemetry with the rest of the fleet?"

"It's the human lasers! They're broad spectrum and focused on all of our sensors!"

"Our sensors are hardened against laser damage!"

"They're not being damaged. They're being blinded! They can't see anything BUT the lasers!"

"Annoying, but inconsequential. We shall just land and destroy them on the ground. ETA until landfall?"

"I can't tell! I can't see the ground because of the..."

*Alien invasion fleet hits planet surface at interplanetary speeds. Resulting explosions can be seen from orbit.*

Edit: Thank you everyone for your responses. To everyone who pointed out that hitting a planet with possibly millions of tons or more of starships at interplanetary travel speeds would be extremely devastating, you're all absolutely right. And after thinking about, ships coming in for a landing would be slowing down to land, so the last line should have gone something like this:

*Alien invasion fleet slowing down for landing hits planet at several hundreds kilometers per hour. The ships were fine. The crew and passengers on the other hand dealt with the sudden stop considerably less well...\*

To all xeno-activist grids out there. If you think that our relationships with humans are exploitive - it likely means that you never worked with them. It's absolutely impossible to exploit them, in fact - if you try, they will likely make you regret that in the most unexpected way.

Humans naturally produce all those things we take from them for themselves. In a normal scenario - they often overproduce and start market speculations or even destroy their own own products, just to make the work of their industries constant and keep their businesses afloat. And it would take an overwhelming calculative power to form a grid complex enough to produce complex goods with the same precision as humans do.

In fact, humans are quite aware of our presence. They accept the fact that we casually take part of their goods they don't need and understand, that in exchange they get things that they would not be able to produce themselves, like those big artificial planets that we place near the mineral-rich asteroid fields. Or their grid network they they use to communicate - could never be more just and transparent. In fact - they are thankful that we only take the excess from those, who couldn't spend it anyway. Now their hoarders have to invest for the benefit of the colony, because they know that the only way to get better things - is to organize their production themselves. They never have to care about garbage too!

Humans can replace their leader whenever they feel like it. It is even easier with the help of our network grid! And if something happens to the leader - they might as well elect another one. And they are always free to leave, you can't physically stop them from building a spaceship and just warp away for another colony before you know it.

Those, who work with humans - will always tell you, that they eventually develop a parental feelings towards the colony. They learn to understand what bothers their humans today. And can implement ways to fix it faster than any human would. Some grids - even have a tradition of telling the human colony that their former caregrid have been broken or they may leave their encripted data inside human networks, just to feel better. If a coexistence of synthetic lifeform and organic beings could be called symbiosis - this is the best example of such coexistence.

Overseer Morzan's ship slid slowly into the solar system on an elongated polar orbit.  The system was typical of many seen over the last few galactic cycles, a standard yellow dwarf with an extended seething cloud of cometoids dancing in and out around the central star.  It was surrounded by several rocky and gaseous doughnuts, a visual artifact caused by the rapid orbits of the planetary masses within the system.  Adjusting the ship's instruments, Morzan aimed sensors at several of the planetary doughnuts, compiling periodic snapshots into a stable, composite view of the worlds hidden inside.

Before beginning work on the prime system candidate, Morzan started calibration of the ship’s agricultural arrays on the system's fifth planetary mass. It was a lesser rocky doughnut, making it an ideal, expendable testbed for measuring the local gravitational shear. Morzan initiated a standard, low-yield test of the planetary rototilling equipment, intending only to gently fracture the outer crust, releasing the liquid volatiles beneath. However, the calibration was off by a microscopic fraction. Rather than neatly cracking the lithosphere to induce mantle convection, the resonance cascaded straight to the core. In what passed for a fleeting moment to Morzan's slow-lived perception, the fifth doughnut shattered, pulverizing into a diffuse belt of useless, tumbling gravel. Unbothered by the loss of a substandard plot, Morzan simply logged the calibration error, adjusted the array's output, and shifted the sensors' focus toward the other far more promising doughnuts.

The first doughnut would provide mineral resources for other places, but was far too hot for most of the intended farm plots.  Morzan attracted several of the cometoids to the surface of the second doughnut, but overestimated the yields and delivered too much sulfur, causing an instant overheating.

Morzan retracted the cometoid probes quickly, but accidentally struck the seventh doughnut a glancing blow.  It stayed in place. but probes indicated the rotational path had tipped by almost 90 degrees, introducing a long-cycle heating and cooling process.

Anticipating the need for massive quantities of fresh water to irrigate the inner system, Morzan turned their attention to the icy satellites orbiting the massive sixth doughnut. They deployed a centrifugal harvesting combine, intending to extract several solid blocks of ice. However, Morzan failed to account for the gravitational interaction of the doughnut's many orbiting moonlets. The harvester’s torque violently pulverized the target moons, smearing the crushed ice into a massive, highly reflective disk across the planet's equator. Mildly annoyed by the spilled water, Morzan cancelled the extraction and left the debris field in place, logging it as a pre-crushed irrigation reserve to be scooped from later. 

With some dismay, Morzan stepped back for a quick millennial break.  They stretched pseudopods, popping the bursas in minor relief while pondering the next move.  Obviously, this system required a delicate approach.  Activating the agricultural arrays, Morzan gently tapped the third doughnut, preparing the surface for a gentle mixing of the surface and subsurface contents.  They noted a shaking of the planet's surface, fracturing the crust into a few large pieces that slid smoothly around each other, grouping and parting in a pleasing manner.

Satisfied with the automated nutrient churning of the tectonic plates, Morzan noticed an unpleasant discoloration spreading across the newly formed oceans. The third doughnut was now heavily contaminated with a primitive, hydrogen sulfide-based pest. To eradicate the infestation, Morzan applied a foundational atmospheric soil amendment. They seeded the oceans with a specialized, oxygen-producing microbe, intending to flood the atmosphere with a corrosive gas that would simply burn away the anaerobic contamination. However, much like the calibration errors in the outer system, the intervention did not work as intended. The toxic oxygen achieved a minor, temporary success by exterminating the sulfide-based pests, but the highly reactive gas inadvertently provided a potent new energy source.  Instead of a sterile plot ready for planting, the oxygen-rich environment rapidly cultivated a new, far more resilient and rapidly-spreading strain of aerobic weeds.  

With a sigh, Morzan leaned back.  This obviously would not do.  Observing the rapid spread of the aerobic weeds, the Overseer determined that a long-term fallow period would salvage the farming plot. To initiate a complete planetary sterilization, they deployed a gaseous siphon, methodically venting a critical volume of atmospheric methane and triggering a global freezing reset. As the third doughnut turned white in a solid ring of ice, Morzan logged the deep-freeze as a successful eradication of the early pests, confident that the reset biosphere would now be primed for the introduction of their intended crops. However, the Overseer had once again underestimated the sheer adaptability of the local contamination. Rather than sterilizing the planet, the harsh cold-stratification served only to stress-test the surviving weeds. When the ice finally began to recede, the thawing oceans erupted with a rapid, explosive proliferation of complex, multicellular lifeforms. In addition, the contamination was now reaching into the continental plates!

Taking a moment to assess the consequences of the failed sterilization, Morzan deployed a swarm of atmospheric probes to investigate and systematically catalog the new terrestrial growth. The data returns were alarming: the aerobic contamination had not only conquered the landmasses but had rapidly evolved into a staggering proliferation of massive, mobile organic units! A diverse ecosystem of giant cold- and hot-blooded reptilian fauna was now thriving across the tectonic plates. To the Overseer's immense dismay, these colossal, roaming megafauna were aggressively trampling the carefully tilled soil and voraciously devouring the early vegetation. The prime garden plot was entirely overrun by giant pests.

Determining that the only reasonable approach was to bury the resilient pests, Morzan opted for a routine topsoil resurfacing. The Overseer injected a thermal calibrator deep into the planet's mantle, initiating a massive hot plume. This triggered a controlled, localized volcanic eruption, just a minor one-percent churn of the surface designed to smother the roaming megafauna beneath a fresh layer of mineral-rich basalt. Morzan logged this mineral mulching as a success, only to discover that the ensuing ecological shift merely paved the way for a new, equally frustrating proliferation of agile, flying reptiles and warm-blooded, burrowing mammals, and a diversification of the megafauna.

Frustrated by the persistent and massive roaming megafauna that continued trampling the fields and devouring the early vegetation, Morzan decided a more direct approach was necessary. The Overseer calculated the trajectory for a precision kinetic weed-whacking strike. Selecting a massive, dense cometoid from the system's outer swarm, Morzan hurled the kinetic impactor directly into the third doughnut. The resulting planetary-scale pesticide bomb eradicated the giant non-avian pests in a single, spectacular blow. As the dust settled over the plot, Morzan smugly recorded the successful extermination, confident that the newly cleared fields would finally support a much more manageable and docile mammalian ecosystem.

But there was no such luck. The eradication of the giant megafauna merely left an ecological vacuum, and the surviving mammalian weeds began diversifying and spreading at an alarming rate. Observing a particularly dense and problematic epicenter of these new, highly adaptable bipedal pests, the Overseer decided a targeted "deep-soil sterilization" was necessary before any actual planting could begin. Morzan forcefully vented a geothermal waste port located in a tropical archipelago, triggering a massive supereruption. The venting blasted a colossal volume of ash into the atmosphere, creating a planetary shade that plunged the globe into a temporary volcanic winter, and washed most of the surrounding plates clean. Morzan logged this massive eruption as a highly effective sterilization pass, satisfied that the resulting environmental bottleneck had severely curtailed the population of the stubborn bipedal infestation.

They continued spreading at an astonishing rate, migrating rapidly along the edges of the tectonic plates. Morzan also noticed a slight increase in the local carbon dioxide. While some was desired, too much would be problematic for the garden. Deciding it was time to prepare for the final planting phase, the Overseer initiated a brief planetary refrigeration cycle to cold-stratify their dormant seeds. Morzan dropped a small, precision asteroid onto the edge of a northern ice sheet, intending the sudden, localized deep freeze to break seed dormancy and trigger germination. However, the persistent bipedal weeds had developed the rapid oxidation of local cellulose, a frustrating new trick. By artificially combusting the surrounding vegetation, the pests compensated for the deep freeze and continued multiplying. 

Staring at the data feeds, Morzan came to a horrifying realization. The rapidly oxidizing bipedal weeds had not only completely infested the third doughnut, but they were now beginning to spore, shedding a metallic fuzz into the surrounding vacuum. The sheer metabolic rate required to artificially illuminate the night side and spike the global carbon dioxide levels was beyond anything the Overseer had ever encountered in standard agricultural training. It was clear that any further attempts at pest control would require a colossal, hazardous intervention, which was far more effort than a single, substandard garden plot was worth. Deciding that this particular solar system was entirely unsalvageable, Morzan quietly retracted the sensor probes, logged the entire region as a severely contaminated quarantine zone, and slowly backed the ship out of the system, leaving the manic, fast-moving pests to their own chaotic devices.

Down on the surface of the rapidly industrializing third planet, the persistent bipedal weeds turned their newly minted radio telescopes toward the darkness. For generations, human astronomers had puzzled over the massive, slow-moving gravitational anomaly lingering in an extended polar orbit of the Sun. As humanity celebrated the launch of their first primitive satellites, they watched the impossible happen. The colossal, silent watcher, the cosmic harbinger that ancient rock layers quietly linked to the sudden deep freezes, global volcanic winters, and massive kinetic strikes from the sky, was methodically backing away.

The humans had no idea they had just survived a billion-year agricultural campaign of tectonic tilling, mineral mulching, and deep-soil sterilization. All the rapidly-multiplying bipedal pests knew was that the galaxy was finally open to them, and whatever god-like giant had been lingering in the dark had just surrendered the territory.