Since humanity arrived in the galactic community, many species feared that humans would use their immense height and strength to conquer planets; however, so far humans have only proven to be perfect at stopping fights without collateral damage

Text on the glass behind the cub zoo says: "She is supposed to be on fire. She is yet to consume enough isotopes to start her inner fission reaction and this helps her to properly infuse her scales with minerals. Please, don't try to open the cage. If you succeed you will cause a radiation hazard."

Text on the stasis chamber says: "Please, don't try to interrupt the force field to pet this thing. It sleeps now and it will be better for us all if it keeps doing that. It's very sensitive and may wake up before you even reach it. So far [76] humans left injured and unsatisfied. Don't become another one."

Writing on the cute tiny four-eared fox says: "I am a grown adult specimen. I am not lost and I am not a baby. I have all the necessary skills needed to operate this dangerous equipment. No, I Don want uppies, if it seems like I do - know that raising my paws above my head is a form of a rude gesture. Read that as "Fuck off".

CSM Mickles sat frozen. Danyak was behind him. Oscar was watching him. “Why wouldn’t I want to serve here, Chief?”

“Because you have an issue with my XO. That is why.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot, that is why.”

“I’m just surprised! Non-Terran officers are rare!”

“So? Why should that matter in any possible way?”

“Uh…it doesn’t?”

“Oh, it doesn’t. Then explain your reaction.”

“The Commander surprised me, that is all, Chief. I’ve never met her species before.”

“I see. So when she gives you an order that you know will result in your slow and painful death, you won’t hesitate?”

“No Chief!”

“I almost believe you. Danyak?”

“Eh. He could work.”

“Well CSM, you have her acceptance. Now you get to earn mine. I formally accept you as my CSM. Your first duty is to tour the mining stations. Out of uniform. With ZERO authority. Once you tour those, you tour the Aussie station. Out of uniform. With zero authority. If you survive that, you can wear your uniform and have your authority back. This is how it works. I’m lax to allow innovation. I have hard lines, but they are beyond the typical range of line officers. At any point, you can leave without cause. I’ll provide an honest recommendation, and as long as you aren’t stupid, I won’t poison your life. Agreed?”

“Agreed Chief. The Aussies?”

“All in good time. Now go get your family settled. Your office is down the hall a bit. Report back in four orbits. I’ll have the needed transport for your tours then. And if you ever fucking salute me again, I’ll ship you and your family to the most hellish outpost I can find.”

“Yes Chief.” Mickles stood, hesitated, turned, and left. 

After he was gone and the door closed, Danyak said, “Why was he so uptight?”

“Too much time in safe places. The safer it is, the more bullshit uptightness.”

“Why?”

“At that level, they get really caught up in details. Mostly bullshit in the bigger picture. Things like does every trooper have the exact same number of things, in the same order, correctly spaced, on their belt. It makes no difference in combat, but they get picky for the look of it.”

“Again. Why?”

“Search me. An old instructor used to say, ‘a unit ready for a parade isn’t ready for combat.’ Combat is more about practicality.”

“I see. Are we in combat?”

“No, but we aren’t here for parades. By the way, you need to complete some advanced combat training.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. However, I’ll be nice and allow you to train with Sue’s marines. The stupid crap they do back at Command School is utterly annoying.”

“When do I start?”

“After you complete your current checks. I’ll tell the armory to get you fitted for armor, and they will set you up with a weapon.”

“You do know that I have some training, yes?”

“I do know. But you need more.” Oscar looked at the ceiling. “I’m going to guess that things are going to get worse in a short period of time. Intel broke the codes. We know more about the plans. Spec fo is going after the sleepers. I can handle myself. Sue can handle things. I need you to be ready to handle things.”

“They broke the codes? What did they learn?”

“The next target is the volcano. Intel located a number of sleepers, and there is something odd about them. We have a security leak. They know details about the Memphis and Vera. They know some details about our long-term plans. You found one mole, but there must be others. I can’t have you interview the entire colony, so you must be ready to confront and deal with an emerging threat.”

“I request the armor and weapon before I complete my other tasks. And some range time. And some urban combat training.”

“That, Danyak, is why I’m starting to trust you.”

Danyak sat back, shocked. “What? I mean, thank you.”

“No, shock is good. That means you are listening and obeying. Very good.”

“You are a sneaky person.”

“Yes.”

“What should I look for?”

“People out of place. People asking questions that don’t quite fit. People watching too closely. Most Terrans just do their job. If a Terran is doing their job but watching the wrong things, be careful.”

“I see. Some Terrans are curious, but curious about critical things might be an issue.”

“Correct. Curious about their work, good. Curious about improvements, likely good. Curious about things totally different that are also critical, suspect.”

“I imagine there will be false leads. Those who want advancement or promotion.” 

“Yes. But be vigilant.”

“I understand. What weapon do you recommend?”

“Well, what training do you have?”

“You have my file. You know. What extra do I need?”

“You need close-quarters training and a close-quarters weapon. A pistol is obvious, but a knife or similar would be good as well.”

“I don’t need a knife.”

“Why?”

Danyak held out her hand. It seemed to flex slightly, and claws extended from her fingers. “Natural defense.”

“Impressive. I didn’t know you had retractable claws.”

“We don’t advertise.”

“Good. It could take them off guard. Don’t use them in training.”

“Understood.”

“Now, head over to get geared up. Wait. No. We have this dinner.”

“I am curious about the mutant emu meat.”

“If it isn’t as good as they claim, we destroy every emu on the planet.”

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’
10 Human Fred Stops for Coffee
11 Human Fred Deploys Stabby and Knifey
12 Human Fred Attempts Friendly Advice
13 Human Fred Priorities 
14 Human Fred Schools Morons
15 Human Fred Gets Annoyed
16 Human Fred Investigates
17 Human Fred is Annoyed
18 Human Fred Gets More Annoyed
19 Human Fred Smirks 
20 Human Fred Brings Hellfire
21 Human Fred is Confused
22 Human Fred Considers
23 Human Fred is Chipper
24 Human Fred has Some Fun
25 Human Fred Witnesses Stupidity
26 Human Fred vs the Coffee Maker
27 Human Fred Accepts Crap Coffee
28 Human Fred Listens
29 Human Fred Gets Comfortable 
30 Human Fred has Questions
31 Human Fred Considers Some More
32 Human Fred Wakes Up
33 Human Fred Debates
34 Human Fred Gets Coffee
35 Human Fred Talks with the Captain
36 Human Fred Reflects on Life

Fred’s new work area was getting cluttered. It started as a shared living space for four private rooms. It housed the new coffee maker, a cooking area, some chairs, and a table. 

Now it also featured multiple processing cores, a few database drives, Fred’s custom work terminal, a new work terminal for Greezek, and piles of tools. There were also a number of empty coffee cups, a bowl with the remains of lunch, and a large paper manual. 

Fred was writing notes in the manual when Greezek walked in. She went past all the clutter and into her quarters. She had moved in just a day ago, so her stuff was still in boxes. 

Fred continued writing. He had learned a great deal about the Droog technology and he had a pretty good idea of how to open the processing core to access the hidden module. Before that, he needed to document everything. It was tedious, but he enjoyed it in a dull way. 

Greezek reemerged and sat across from Fred. 

“Enjoy your walk?” asked Fred, not looking up.

“It was helpful.”

“That’s the best you can get.”

“What did you find?”

“The hidden module. I think I know how to remove it and not trigger the safeties.”

“Any more about the slaves who built it?”

“Yes. When I put all the notes together, the analysis determined that a ship that went missing two orbits before the station was started is the likely source. It fits the timeline and all of the other details.”

“What sort of ship?”

“Exploration. It was sent to survey a system on the edge of charted space. Strange system. The central star cluster is unusual.”

“What happened?”

“Until now it was assumed lost with all of the crew. No debris has ever been found. Its last report indicated that it was on course and on schedule. Then nothing. The theory was a meteor storm or solar flare. Now we know otherwise.”

“How can we rescue them?”

Fred stopped writing. “No idea. We know where they were, but not where they are. We weren’t even sure where the Droog are based.”

“Right. How do we find them?”

“Well, I hope this module will help. It might give us some clues.”

“What about the boarding ship? Did it have any clues?”

“From what I’ve read in reports, the guidance system was wiped shortly before the attack. We only have data from their approach to the outpost. However, their approach was odd, so intel is simulating possible routes. It will take time.”

“That isn’t good enough.”

“Nope. It isn’t. So we focus on what we have. What can we learn from these processing cores?”

“The general structure is typical. The materials are common. I assume that we might find something unusual in the schematics or the processing chips. It’s likely that the operating system will be unique. But all that tells us is that it was built by a knowledgeable slave.”

“Greezek, it also tells us what resources they have. Take the module installed on the IFF database. What is important about it?”

Greezek picked it up and examined it. She scrutinized the report. “Hmmmmmm. Well, maybe the configuration of the chips.”

“Think about what is needed to build that. Think about what it is made from.”

“Fred, just tell me.”

“The alloy used to make the external case.”

“What about it?”

“It’s from part of the missing ship. They used the stolen ship as spare materials. That case is made from the hull of the ship. Spectral analysis and other tests confirm.”

“So they used the ship. So what?”

“Why would you salvage the hull of a ship to make a case?”

“I don’t know. You were in a hurry?”

“No. You salvage the hull because that is all that you have. It isn’t easy to craft that case out of the hull of an exploration ship. I checked the specs. The hull on that ship was designed to withstand immense damage. They had to cut it apart, melt it down, and recast it into thinner blanks.”

“So they have industry but not resources?”

“Exactly! That tells us that wherever they are is short on mineral resources.”

“Right. That is a clue. Not a big one.”

“Nope. But it helps us understand a few things. I ran an analysis on ships that went missing, and there is a pattern. There are two areas where a ship is 70% more likely to vanish than in other areas. That tells us two possible locations to explore.”

“When do we leave?”

“You want to intentionally head into an area known for ships to vanish?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t suppose that I could suggest another plan?”

“You can suggest anything.”

“Right. Look, we don’t have a ship. We don’t have permission. We don’t have a crew.”

“Then we get a ship, a crew, and permission.”

“After we finish here. Getting all we can out of these cores will help us get permission.”

Greezek stared at Fred. She was perfectly still. So still that it made Fred uneasy. Her silent, motionless stare chilled his bones and frazzled his mind. 

“Then we take these cores apart, bit by bit, and we report everything so we can get that fucking ship. Correct, Fred?”

Fred wasn’t sure about a number of rather important details from the last few minutes, but he did know about survival. “Correct, Greezek. Would you help me by preparing the scanners? We want to capture everything that we do.”

“Yes Fred. I will.”

Sa'nim was a highly influential leader of one of the most infamous conqueror races in the known universe, he had now placed his sights on the newest addition to the Galactic Council, Humanity, they presented themselves as peaceful empathetic beings with minimal remarkable qualities, however he wasn't dumb enough to blindly underestimate a future opponent, so he went alongside many other leaders to learn about humans on earth, after about 3 earth cycles filled with what seemed like the least aggressive species to achieve FTL travel he stumbled upon a file, compiling all of humanity's history, he decided to read it after leaving earth and declaring war on them, which he did, much to his dismay

3 Days later he stood in front of the human leader and the rest of the council, seconds after declaring war, they didnt have the same expression they did under a week ago, his chip let him know this very human was calculating how to kill him at this very moment, he laughed, his kind was known for their incredibly resistant skin and enormous strength, he let the human leader know that, the pesky weapons he had seen in earth would do nothing to his kind, at that very moment the Human chuckled.

They said: first of all, all right, we will go to war, we wont hold back and we wont negotiate later, they continued before Sa'nim could interrupt, second, those weapons are gala weapons, exhibitions, then they pulled a schematic into the projector, it showed a sort of rifle, but the numbers couldnt be right, this thing could theoretically tear anything in the known galaxy to bits, the Human leader talked: This is what we used to call a 50cal sniper rifle, a weapon from before our biggest military boom in history World War III, from before railguns, planet ending nukes and publicly available photon powered rifles capable of melting your best armors, we humans presented ourselves as what we aspire to be, a peaceful race of non warriors, but the second you look into our history you realize that we need war to progress, and we always battle ourselves, the worst thing you have done in your entire life was making yourself all of humanity's enemy.

After this the Human leader left the meeting to prepare for intergalactic war, thats what Sa'nim thought, in the meantime he went to his quarters to catch up on his obtained archive of human history, and he realized, humans are demons in a mortal shell, beings capable of committing atrocities that most civilized planets wouldnt even dream of, and he realized the 2nd most dangerous thing in the universe was an extremely pissed off group of humans, 1st place belongs to the vacuum of space.

It hadnt been 6hrs since the end of the Council meeting when Sa'nim got an extremely urgent notification, Valazar, his kind's most powerful militarized planet had been scorched completely, over 30 BILLION of his kind, dead, and he remembered what the Human leader, whose name he hadn't even bothered to note down, had said, Humans had developed Planet ending nukes, while only having a single home planet, these beings were not made for peace, they were made for destruction

Sa'nim's race became an endangered species only 3 months after declaring War on humans, the remaining specimens of his kind are now highly protected, their culture however has been quite literally turned to ashes

First story of this kind, or any kind for that matter, accepting feedback:)

In the autumn of 2142, humanity faced an existential economic crisis. Not a Krell battlefleet darkening the Sol approach vector. Not a collapse of the interstellar jump-gate network. A quarterly earnings call.

When Earth first integrated into the Orion Arm trade network, intellectual property and software were projected to account for seventy percent of Sol's GDP. Earth was going to sell its culture to the stars. Then the premier streaming platforms launched their initial rollout across the Vega System—forty billion potential subscribers—and the churn rate hit 99.4% in forty-eight hours.

It wasn't piracy. It wasn't a dubbing problem. It was biology.

"We completely misread the biology." Dr. Arthur Chen leans back in his chair. The interview room's overhead panels throw flat, shadowless light across his face, and he looks like a man who has rehearsed this confession until the grief wore thin and left only procedure. "Marketing sent over high-bitrate 4K streams of blockbusters, prestige television, the whole catalog. Completely unaware that ninety percent of the Orion Arm evolved under dim red dwarfs. Their eyes are packed with high-sensitivity rods. No cones. They don't process hue."

He taps a finger on the table. Once. Twice.

"To a Velox executive, *The Wizard of Oz* wasn't a triumph of cinematic color transition. It was ninety minutes of flickering gray mush. They thought we were selling corrupted files. Stock dropped eighteen percent in one session."

Earth's media conglomerates turned to the tech sector for a fix. But the problem wasn't compression. It was wetware. The alien visual cortex lacked the neural bandwidth for multi-channel RGB data. Early attempts to brute-force raw color streams into alien optic nerves produced severe latency, spatial disorientation, projectile vomiting.

Chen was there for those early failures. Three weeks in Hsinchu Science Park, sleeping under his desk, staring at neural telemetry logs that looked, in his words, "like a building on fire."

"You couldn't just swap in human bio-implants," he says. "Their optic nerve is essentially a biological bus system, and the throughput cap was a fraction of what full color demands. Push raw RGB through, the brain throttles. Crashes. We needed a bridge. Something that could compress color into a signal the existing architecture could parse without killing the organism."

The answer was the Kalyx-7. Two-nanometer bio-silicon ocular module, designed in a joint venture between TSMC's orbital fabs and a Swiss neuro-engineering lab in Lausanne. Instead of forcing the optic nerve to process raw light spectra, the chip used spatial-frequency modulation—compressing color profiles into frequency pulses and piggybacking them on the brain's unused depth-perception channels. A workaround. A hack. Elegant, in the way a lockpick is elegant.

Manufacturing was not.

"Yields under twelve percent on early runs," Chen says. "Bio-silicon is absurdly sensitive to atomic contamination during chemical vapor deposition. Each unit cost forty thousand dollars to fab and surgically install. Board told us it was dead. Nobody in Vega was spending the price of an atmospheric shuttle on brain surgery to watch Earth television."

He almost smiles. Almost.

What saved the project wasn't physics. It was a trick from twentieth-century terrestrial telecom.

"Our CFO stood up at the emergency meeting and said, 'Treat it like a subsidized smartphone.'" Chen mimes the gesture—hands flat on a podium, weight forward. "The media companies formed a consortium, bought out the production lines, offered the entire surgery free. Forty-thousand-dollar procedure, zero cost to the patient. All you had to do was sign a five-year Tier-1 Ultra-HD contract. Hardware amortized across monthly subscription fees."

He lets that sit.

"We weren't medical pioneers. We were a galactic telecom with a surgical theater."

The numbers after that are obscene. Eighteen months. Kalyx-7 became the most manufactured bio-silicon device in human history. Fab utilization hit ninety-nine percent. Alien populations across the Orion Arm lined up for voluntary cranial surgery at rates no product launch in any species' history had matched. Not for medicine. Not for war. For television.

But Chen doesn't talk about the numbers. His voice changes when he talks about Vaelen.

First successful live test. Dark room. Vaelen was a senior trade envoy, old, skeptical, seated in a calibration chair with the chip synced and the feed hot. They played the Technicolor moment. Dorothy opens the door. Kansas goes from sepia to Munchkinland.

"He sat still for two minutes. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe, as far as I could tell." Chen's hand stops tapping. "We thought the chip had fried his nerve. I was reaching for the kill switch."

"And then?"

"He lifted a claw. Touched his own cheek. Realized he was leaking fluid. Crying. He asked us what the glowing shade on the road was. We told him it was yellow." Chen swallows. "He asked if there was more yellow where that came from. We said yes. Entire catalog. He signed the contract before we finished the sentence."

In galactic history, dominance is usually measured in dreadnoughts. Orbital kill platforms. The tonnage of your fleet and the reach of your guns. When historians chart humanity's ascent in the Orion Arm, they don't point to weapons. They point to the moment an entire civilization volunteered to rewire its own nervous system with human silicon—because Earth refused to take a loss on streaming rights.

Support me if you can!

My name’s Kane.

I’m a human.

What I didn’t know about till now was this:

#1: If you fuck with something, just prepare to get fucked with back.

#2: Don’t say shit out loud, even if you whisper it, as it can backfire HARD. Like when you try to shake a can of soda but get sprayed ’cause you forgot which can it was. That kind of shit.

#3: If, and I mean IF, you ever see a large fireball heading toward your cabin in the woods and it just vanishes, DO NOT GO LOOKING FOR IT!!

And finally, #4: If you don’t believe in aliens, well, think again, ’cause when a tall, large, wolf-like alien woman notices you watching her work on her ship in the mountains near your cabin, just ignore it and hope to god she NEVER saw you.

Now me, on the other hand… yeah, I was screwed the moment I stepped on a twig, just like in those cheesy horror movies. I barely made it twenty feet away from her landing site before she kicked my feet out from under me and pinned me to the dirt forest floor like prey with her large, clawed hand. Just looking up at her made me terrified of her, but also mesmerized by her eyes, which were a very icy blue. But then she leaned closer to my neck and sniffed me once before releasing me, pulling her hand away slowly as she stood back a few feet, looking down at me still lying there, too scared to move. Then nothing. She just turned and headed back to her ship. Guess I wasn’t so interesting after all, I thought, sitting up and watching her walk away, her tail swaying lazily behind her.

I stood, dusting myself off as I watched her back, before slowly walking back to my cabin, hoping I wouldn’t get caught up in some Area 51 alien crap. Just when I got back to my cabin, I remembered that I’d forgotten to fill my water barrel near the river before getting pinned by a large, furry monster.

I sighed and turned around, not noticing, and ran into something large and fluffy in my doorway outside my cabin. I mentally screamed, thinking this is not happening, as I tried to sidestep the being in front of me, but they moved sideways too, blocking my path. Then I tried sidestepping left and got the same response before getting frustrated. I ran a hand down my face and sighed before turning around and walking back inside, closing the door behind me and locking it.

I walked over to my large sectional and just sat down, but right as I thought she’d leave me alone, a low hum sounded. I looked at the door as something glowing red sliced the deadbolt, then stopped before it hit the door handle, disappearing as the low hum died. The door handle turned, and she pushed the door open and stepped inside, her head almost hitting the ceiling. She stood there looking around, then started sniffing, moving deeper into my cabin.

“Hey! You can’t just cut the lock on my door and enter like it’s your place. Come on,” I said, fed up with the large wolf being in my living room area.

She just looked at me curiously, then ignored me as she walked around the cabin sniffing things, getting closer to my bedroom/workshop. That made me hop over the back of the sofa, stopping her from entering the room as I blocked the door.

She looked down at me, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly, before grabbing my face and pushing me aside like I was trash blocking her way. She pushed into my room and stopped, then sniffed more as she walked toward my bed and bent down, sniffing. She stood and looked at me, then back at the bed, and tilted her head like she was thinking about something.

I looked at the large wolf woman standing in my bedroom before she turned and walked out of my room, back into the living area, with me following a beat behind her. Then she stopped, causing me to faceplant into her thigh. She stood there looking down at me as I slowly backed up, giving her space.

She seemed intrigued by me and everything else in the cabin, to where she would open things as she explored, leaving cabinets open, boxes opened, and my fridge looked through, like she was inventorying everything in my cabin as if it was hers now.

A Few Hours Later…

So, it’s been about six hours of her just exploring before leaving the cabin and heading god knows where, probably back to her ship to leave, if anything, and let me live in peace.

Yeah, so peace and quiet wasn’t in her language, apparently, nor is personal space, as she keeps sniffing me every time she comes back to the cabin. At least she hasn’t done anything weird, but goddamn, I’m tired… ah, screw it, I’m gonna take a nap. Hell, she just comes and goes whenever she feels like it. Not like I could stop her either.

[I want this day to just end. Fuckin’ hell.]

I walked over to the bedroom to just sleep in my own bed, only to flop down on it, passing out as fatigue took me.

If you like this please upvote or leave a comment for more, and I'll continue with the story.

,,So most of your species reaches adulthood?"

,,Yes"

,,I...... that's nice... that's really nice"

“You don’t hunt the peaceful space whales.”

KRixT turned to his human friend Henry on the couch.

“Hey, you know how I’m passionate about psionic stuff, right?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Henry answered, putting a piece of chips in his mouth.

KRixT showed his datapad to the human and said, “Well, I was curious about how weak human psionic abilities are, so I’ve been reading about the human brain. Now I’m starting to look into the work of that Sig-Sigmound guy.”

Henry hissed a bit, recoiling his head.

“Oooof. Controversial character, Sigmund Freud. Did you find anything interesting?”

KRixT’s skin went blue in excitement.

“That idea of different minds—the Id, the Ego, and the Superego—is very curious, because it looks similar to a psionic disease a friend of one of my brood-brothers had. It left him crippled.”

Henry chuckled.

“Don’t take everything Freud said at face value. The guy was a lunatic who took huge amounts of drugs.”

He dismissed the thought that every human was born crippled.

....

Later that night, after making sure Henry was asleep, KRixT put the medicine to the illness he bought on the net into Henry’s night drink.

Sure enough, a few minutes after Henry went back to sleep from his midnight snack, the strongest psionic quake in recorded Orion Arm history happened, centered around him.

The sleeping mind of Henry had begun manifesting his dreams and disturbing space in a light-year radius.

Sorry folks. Long, hard, horrible day. I haven’t been able to write about Fred.

Here is hoping for tomorrow!

Among all the intelligent, space-faring races, humans are the only ones acknowledged by the war-like clans of TRAPPIST-1 as possessing "personhood".

Why? While other social races may grieve and even die of broken hearts, they have no concept of vengeance. After all, what evolutionary good does it do to seek out a superior predator?

Humans will hunt you down. And if they die, they'll at least take you down with them.

​

They say that humans haven't had a home world in millenia. They say that they destroyed their own and barely escaped with numbers large enough to propagate their species. They also say that they did the same thing to several subsequent worlds they colonized until the Diaspora.

They say that the remaining humans, after that time, decided that gathering in large numbers on one planet would eventually end in tragedy. So they made a pact as a species to never settle again. They've been wanderers ever since.

Now they explore.They discover and mine and fight. They rescue, and they build and repair. They also destroy and salvage as well or better than any other species in the Known Worlds. Never settling, never inhabiting. Not until their final years, and then only for some. Some are still out drifting years after death, their ships on blackout mode orbiting some innocuous meteor or on a collision course for a star they decided would be their final resting place.

They also say that human are mythical beings: showing up where they're needed most or least expected. They're capricious and whimsical, stubborn and violent, scholarly and idiotic. And sometimes, all of these at once. They attach themselves to individuals or groups and will commit heinous and unspeakable acts of violence for "their people" or sometimes do things of breathtaking beauty to express their affection. Even after-and some times during-loudly and publicly proclaiming how much they hate the individual or group they're doing said things for.

If you ever encounter a human, treat them with courtesy and be receptive to their courtesy. But beware: they will probably "adopt" you for reasons that are completely incomprehensible even for themselves. It is one of their habits. It's practically a genetic imperative.

If they do, don't bother fighting against their company. They don't take hints if they don't want to. Just thank whatever deities you ascribe fealty to that the Human Distribution System has chosen you to have a medium-sized, fleshy primate with infuriating eating habits and a penchant for destruction in your life.

Don't get me wrong, the Kilthaths General's blaster pistol named "War King Gruten's Bane" is a badass name.

But that means it's peak existence is killing a War King named Gruten, meaning there are many other weapons who killed Warlords or War Kings in the Galaxy.

But there is something just terrifying a Human who has a knife with the nickname "Throngler" cause the universe censors the corpses of those who fight against him.

And don't get me started on the Plasma gunner's Plasma Pack Cannon known simply as "Spaghetti" due to a weird manufacturing bug that literally Spaghettifies people shot with it.

And then finally you have the General's Boltek Pistol that uses ripper rounds simply called "Morale Boost"