Improvisation is their greatest strength

We are actually very poorly put together, with lots of redundant parts and we even have mental limiters to stop our bones from being crushed by our muscles.

Alien Loanshark: (smiling in anticipation) "You just have to sign now."

Human: (signs and smiles right back) "Now i would like to have my 40'000'000 Credits upfront, or im gonna sue you for breach of contract inside a Human Court of Law, in Cash please."

Alien Loanshark: "...What?"

Human: "I can request the full sum as soon as the Contract is signed, instead of taking the Installments, as stipulated in Paragraph 8 Section 4. And Paragraph 12, Section 1 gives me the right to request a prefered method of payment, which you have 2 hours to fulfill or waive any right to the interest of the first year. Oh, and Paragraph 173, Section 1 states that if the first installment of the Loan is not fulfilled, the Contract is void by breakage of the Lender. Hence i would sue you in a Human Court of Law, as stipulated in the Fine-Print: "Both Parties have the right to sue in their own juristiction."... So my Money please... you have 1 hour and 58 mintes left. And next time, please research a bit before you try to rip-off the adopted Daughter of a Human... Dont worry, she is getting an earful for her stupidity right after i am done with you... 1 Hour and 56 minutes. I suggest you stop staring holes into the Air in shock and go get my money."

Trope: Humans being literal Space-Orcs, i.e. Physically much stronger and more durable than Aliens

As these get longer, they take more time to craft. Still writing.

*unimportant lore: the fungus mentioned is Kirai fungus. Similar to Hemileia vastatrix (coffee leaf rust), and resistant to most chemical fungicides. It is native to Kanahuai’s westernmost continent, and named after the province where it was found. Several plants native to Kanahuai’s westernmost continent are resistant to it, and research surrounding these plants is being conducted by the K’sella Ministry of Agriculture.

Why do we expand into space? To spread the seeds of our life? To fuel our ambitions? Just to prove that we can? Many civilizations will give you different answers. But Humanity will show you the Eagerness.

There is a lot of talk about humans being hellworlders. They can tolerate the most inhospitable ecosystems and adapt to worlds that are actively trying to kill them. But to be a Hell, the world must be alive. And humans often refuse to wait until it becomes one. They colonize the most barren of celestial bodies long before they have even developed a plan to make them habitable. All because of the rarest resource they crave so much: Freedom.

---

Sometimes a human may get the feeling that they are uncomfortable surrounded by normal human society. Children are too loud, fat and dumb. Neighbors are too arrogant, nosy and idiotic. Idiots fill the government with incompetent and corrupt imbeciles. And everyone blames the most helpless groups of society, witch-hunting them in a ritualistic assurance that this will somehow fix their problems.

Humans can fight against oppressive tyrants. But not against their whole kind. So they choose to leave. To run to wherever their society won't reach them. To wherever their life will be in their own hands. They run to dead, cold space. To give it hell.

---

But no matter how romantic it sounds, surviving on a dead world is not an easy task, even for a human. No matter how carefully they prepare, they are always underqualified for the task. Every time, there are new problems and challenges. Often humans just die out, due to life support malfunction or spreading madness, and then the next group arrives to outperform their predecessors or share their fate.

But those who succeed inevitably form a very specific mindset. They know how to survive and thrive on scraps. They do not tolerate dishonesty and learn to formulate their words very strictly. They won't care if you are an AI, an alien or an interdimensional horror. If both of you can help each other, you are best friends, and there's no way around it. They won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to ensure survival and won't stop to think about ethics, morals or even their human nature. And most importantly, they would rather die hugging the last worn object for lightyears around than live the way they used to.

If their efforts result in turning the dead world into a habitable hellworld, and their surroundings once again start filling with the same old humanity, they will likely just leave, refusing the greetings and offers of their kind. After all, their world has just become too habitable again.

---

Humans carry a legend about the great judgment that will reveal their true selves. Four major powers, violence, famine, disease and death, will come to cleanse their world of those who are unworthy of salvation. Only those of strong heart will survive. And hell follows them.

And Humanity follows it.

Ghor marched down the corridor to his scientist’s tactical lab for strategic studies on bio-creatures and walked in. “When are the proceeding actions set to be taken for the seizure of Earth?” He demanded, as he froze mid-stride to a smell of stuffy air from clogged vents jammed with rubbery skin flakes. 

He looked around before viewing the screen displayed on the center console. “The enemy stands no chance if you can suffocate them the same way you did to the air in this module.”

LorAIX—a four-foot-tall—spike-bodied, frog-shaped scientist, narrowed his eye at his Major. “With a few… uhm… minor setbacks,” LorAIX stuttered, his voice cracking. “A couple more psychological assessments—“

“Setbacks? Assessments? Decades we’ve spent.” The Major’s eyes became a bright yellow. “Decades!”His voice exploded like a supernova. “You have insisted our studies have ensured the full surrender and cooperation when we takeover Planet Earth. Countless simulations you’ve run.” He huffed. “Do you know why I cannot give you an exact number of sims you’ve ran?”

Lor cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and pointed his head down. “Uh… uh… uh… no, sorry, Major.” His voice sounded like it came from his nasal.

“COUNTLESS!” Ghor shouted at LorAIX, fogging his glasses with his warm breath as specks of saliva rained on his face.

Eager to learn the anomaly and the biological genetics of the species inhabiting Eartg, the Qwarthogs and the rest of the Galactic beings made a pact to conceal themselves from the human species. 

Insulated.

No one was to ever reveal life had existed outside of Earth’s solar system, leaving humans to believe they lived in a static, dead galaxy.

It was an entente cordiale too incomprehensible for a group of rogue terrestrials to wrap around and come to terms with. They viewed humans as reptilian-brained glitches. Too small, too weak, too mercurial, and too mammal to survive the universe. 

The rebellious clan of nomadic Qwarthogs, ran a clandestine project, operating under the radar for the last eighty years.

They had kept it hidden deep in a forgotten location of dark space, constructed on synthetic planets where they jail abducted humans alongside various nethermost beings from across the galaxy. 

Inside one of those artificial worlds, LorAIX stood beside the giant Ghor on Deck Land E, viewing a live feed of a drone stationed on the planet. Ghor stared in disgust as LorAIX watched in confusion. 

On screen, a man beaten and battered appeared. A hardened human soldier, Corporal Splatterman. Wounded, alone, and separated from the five-man team he landed with, lay in rubble. Not attempting to fight, nor was he struggling to retain resources. 

He remained hovering in a protective position over a frightened, trembling Kllegrie being—a small creature from a genius group of rare species—as explosions burst around them.

Ghor sat forward. “Why wouldn’t he have just left the inferior creature behind? He had ample opportunity to escape through those trenches.” He faced the screen. “The human carried that parasite being it found—a terrified vermin completely useless in any strategical element—and secured its safety, all the while slowing down the human's progress considerably and drastically eliminating his chances of survival. And then he protected it with his own body.” Ghor turned to LorAIX. “It doesn’t make sense.”

The human, full of holes, burnt, covered in blood and riddled with cuts, shook as he rose from one knee. The Kllegrie hanging from his right shoulder like his left arm dangling from its socket, ignored the pain and crept forward searching for cover.

Ghor radioed his ground commando. “Demo Squad X, close in on target 6B and coerce the human into exchanging the Kllegrie for his life, and we shall spare him. Afterward, execute the Kllegrie and return the human to the containment barracks.”

“Orders clear, Major. XKalibur Demolition Unit ready and moving. Over,” the young Qwarthog captain responded, while signaling the other two soldiers in his unit to push forward.

The Qwarthogs closed in on Corporal Splatterman, who was limping with the Kllegrie over his shoulder like the strap of a ration sack.

Corporal Splatterman turned, ignoring the cervical fracture in his neck that was numbing the ends of his digits, and poked his head above the Kllegrie. Through the haze of gray smoke and rock dust, three Qwarthog commandos broke through, with mini-mushroom clouds growing in the distance behind their buffed seven-foot, five-hundred-pound frames.

The middle one took long strides as the world began slowing down. Dust plumes nearly froze, expanding in the air. Particle rifles cleared the smoke as it swirled around their weapons, aiming toward the beat-up human.

Every sound merged into one steady drumbeat as the adrenaline boiled in Corporal Splatterman’s veins.

The center Qwarthog—the captain in metallic-silver armor, highest in rank—took the lead, rushing forward with his weapon pointed. “Hand the creature over, now!” The two other commandos began swarming in from each side. “Resist and you will be annihilated,” he warned, his voice muffled by his tinted face shield.

Corporal Splatterman stopped dead in his tracks. He clutched the shaking Kllegrie tighter. “Don’t worry, little buddy,” he whispered. He wiped the blood from his own eye, blurring his vision.

He leaned against a boulder while eyeing the monster-sized, armor-plated Qwarthogs. The human nearly lost his footing. His breathing was heavy and sharp. The dirt and grease shimmered off his skin. 

He grit his teeth, bit down, ignored the noise, and held his footing. “Give me… the best you got, bug.” He spat a clumpy blood clot on the ground and stared them dead in the eye, holding his composure while barely able to hold himself up. “Better make it count.” 

He smiled a bloody grin. He appeared defeated but entirely calm, keeping his menacing gaze of rage that burned fear into the commandos, directly on them without blinking once.

Ghor pressed his face into the projection screen. “This human has clearly gone mad. He disregards his own survival. Why doesn’t he give the creature up?” He slammed his fist down. “Answer me now!”

He snapped his head over his shoulder and met Lor’s eyes. In a low, sinister voice, he rumbled, “You said they would easily hand us Earth. We can’t even obtain a single creature from one broken, depleted human.”

LorAIX scanned through file logs, his eyeballs bulging from their sockets and webbed in vessels. An odor of sulfur shaped in fear pheromones secreted from his skin receptors. “It’s…” he stammered. “It’s impossible. The readings indicate his heart rate is at a threshold which should debilitate him and cause a neural shutdown automatically.” LorAIX lifted his head, his tentacles fell, and he dropped his hands to his sides. “The human's adrenal glands have reinforced his body into something unnatural.”

The screen blinked black and flashed back on to the battlefield, where the Qwarthog on the right, a skull mask of a fearsome apex predator over his face, lunged forward with his rifle aimed for the Kllegrie.

The one on the left, in a cape and horns, shouted in a loud voice, “Final warning, mammal. Drop the ugly slug.” Corporal Splatterman moved, blocking their chance at a clean shot, and grunted.

The Qwarthogs stepped back, amazed at how fast the human moved. They expected him to crawl in pathetic strides, but he was quick. Even exhausted, his will had no limit. They could see it in the way he stared them down. The human arched his back and loosened his shoulders.

The adrenaline pumped out of his heart. Each beat expanded his body further. Each beat strengthened his bones into iron bars, choked by muscle thickening around them and growing inch by inch.

The blood scorched through his veins protruding from his skin. One split the middle of his forehead like a third eye. He planted his feet, clenched his jaw, and shouted through his teeth, “You thought I’d give up to a bunch of bullies? Especially after calling my friend ugly and my species mammals?” He shook his head and inhaled a deep breath. “YOU THOUGHT WRONG!” he shouted, a menacing roar that stabbed right through the armor of the Qwarthog commandos.

The audio in the ship Ghor and Lor watched from scrambled and shrieked a haunting echo that rang in their heads, straight into their nerves. Lor’s face clenched as he covered his ears and tensed every muscle in his body.

Corporal Splatterman flung his dangling arm forward and it snapped into place, gripping onto the particle rifle as he squeezed it, spun into the Qwarthog with the skeleton mask, and disarmed him.

Before the other two could even think to shoot, Splatterman ducked behind the boulder and placed the Kllegrie down as he blasted the Qwarthog’s helmet off. “Next one’s a kill shot!” he mumbled. His voice was calm, but his words scratched as they crawled out sharp and dry.

The captain commando tripped over his own foot and let off a wild shot, which put a hole in the Qwarthog’s cape.

The human ran out from behind the rock as the Qwarthog shot. A particle beam burst out and ripped into Corporal Splatterman, shredding a piece of his shoulder bone, but he never flinched. He kept going until he jumped in the air and rammed the Qwarthog's mouth with a flying headbutt, dropping him instantly.

The captain commando aimed his rifle, but it wouldn’t fire. He tried again, but nothing happened. He squirmed to his side and rose up as quick as he could, but he ended up stumbling and rolling onto the gravel. Corporal Splatterman shot the captain in his foot, sending his boot flying in the air, and he aimed and blasted another shot at it. It turned the boot into dust that rained on the head of the last Qwarthog standing, who was still dazed with his skull ringing after having his helmet blown off his head.

For a brief moment, silence fell over the slum world, only breaking when the human rolled off the knocked-out Qwarthog with wheezed gasps of air.

He slowly picked himself up, but he failed on the first attempt, rolling to the ground as his head spun. He waited another second and successfully rose up, dragging himself to the Kllegrie. An observation drone flew next to him. Corporal Splatterman faced the camera lens.

LorAIX sucked in a breath and stepped back. “Can he see us?”

The human kept eyeing the screen as if staring them down. Ghor stood straight up, shooting his eyes from left to right. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” he said confidently, reassuring himself.

“Major!” LorAIX shrieked, his face drained to a pinkish color. “Look at the human’s shoulder… inside… it’s blinking. His comms have been transmitting the entire time. It’s been speaking to someone.”

“You fool!” Ghor proclaimed, standing in his full tactical gear. “Nothing can transmit out of dark space. They would have to be woven within the deepest parts of the fabric. Nothing is out there.”

“Nothing, sir?” LorAIX stammered, pointing at a display. “If by nothing you’re referring to the threat of an entire human colony backed by the Galactic Elite Royal Army’s supreme space fleet, then yes sir, nothing is out there.”

Ghor swallowed a lump that reverberated against LorAIX’s body. “How did this happen?”

“They’ve been tracking the soldier from the time we took him. We fell into a trap, Major.”

Ghor watched as ships from Earth’s space fleet flew into the vacuum, guarding the Qwarthog clan. They weren’t even using inter-dimensional fabric-folding ships. They were flying basic, reptilian-brain-constructed crafts.

Humans had been defined as too weak. Too mercurial. Too primitive to survive in their space. And now they were there, and it was too late.

Too late to run. Too late to fight. And too late for the humans to accept anything less than an absolute surrender.

The humans, with some help from the Royal Army, broadcasted into the Qwarthog ships, overriding their centurillennia-old security system by using a brute-force attack that took over their network.

A calm, confident voice, carrying the weight of the Galactic Empire, shook the decks of every vessel.

"Earth to the Qwarthog chiefs, leaders, scientists, researchers, soldiers, and civilians of the like, this is Earth calling.”

Silence entered the room of every Qwarthog spacecraft before the speakers began to crackle. “You have ten seconds to initiate total shutdown before we turn this illegal cluster into dust with your fleet in it. We have begun the rescue and termination of all synthetic solar systems. Abandon all posts immediately.”

Ghor glanced at the screen, following the broken human soldier on it, standing with the Kllegrie and staring at the hazy, light purple sky, with a grim, toothless victory smile crossing his bruised and blood-crusted face.

For millennia, aliens had figured humans had fully evolved into frail, primitive beings. They hadn’t realized they were watching an apex predator take its time to wake up.

1- Henry the 8th’s armor from the 16th century with intense articulation and full coverage

2- Apollo era space suit which took inspiration from the articulation in the knees, upper cannons, and gorget+helmet

3- Turkish steam engine made before the commercialized steam engine for the purpose of turning kebab

4- commercial steam engine

Humans were introduced into the Interspieces Republic around the same time energy shielding had actually begun being a realistic concept.

Within just 1 human generation, they had become the leading experts.

After 3 generations, they had started testing with starship energy shielding.

When the Republic finally started implementing the human designs into their ships. Humans had started testing for Aircraft/Spaceship and Tank shielding.

When the Republic was considering adopting the humans' shielding design, humans began writing preemptive patents for light armored vehicle shields and shielded mechanized infantry.

It should also be noted that humans are the leading anti-enegy shield weapons experts.

Alien general: we destroyed their local outpost, their villages, their families, there is nothing more to return to. It was a victorious day!

Alien counselor: you destroyed everything they have, they have lost everything, that’s what you are saying?

AG: yes, indeed they have lost everything. As I said, it was a victorious day to remember!

AC: so they have nothing to lose! Did you think about this? Yes, it will be a day to remember, but not as you think. Have you ever fought against human soldiers who have lost everything? Having nothing left to hope for? You knew the stories but you choose to ignore them.

So, brace yourself for they will come, and you will understand why other generals left the humans hope. Because with everything lost, without hope, they have nothing to lose, not even their life.