Wolfpack Mayhem

Humans are weird: Adaptability

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The assembly hall at the institute of learning on Praxos III was one of the finest halls in the entire system. Easily able to handle over a thousand beings it was specifically designed to allow anyone up on stage the ability to speak to the very back of the rows without the need for technology to boost their voice. A rather convenient feature as today the hall was packed to capacity.

A dozen hushed conversations mingled together as those gathered waited for the speaker of the day. They had come from across the planet and even as far away as the outer colonies all for a chance to hear the subject that had captivated their entire species.

As the voices continued to rise and fall like the tide of the ocean the lights began to dim and a lone figure stepped on to the stage. The crowd’s conversations died away and were replaced by the thunderous roar of applause that shook the hall.

Upon reaching center stage the speaker raised up their hands for quiet and the applause slowly pattered out until once more the hall was silent.

“My name is Ozma Dalhime,” the speaker began as their voice echoed throughout the entire hall, “and I hold the position of head researcher of alien lifeforms here at the institute.”

Behind Ozma a large screen slowly descended from the ceiling and the lights of the hall went completely dark save for the lone light on the speaker.

“In my time here I have come to find many interesting and seemingly farfetched life forms that have been discovered across the galaxy, but none as fascinating and frustrating as the one we are here to speak about today.”

At this the projector turned on and a large image of a strange creature appeared on the large screen. Several oh’s and ah’s came from the crowd as the image came into full view.

“This,” Ozma said, “is a human.”

The images began cycling through several different pictures of humans. Some were male, some were female, some had long hair, some had short, some were pale as a ghost, and some were as dark as the starry skies. Dozens of different photos went by, each unique and different from those that came before, leaving many to wonder how such a chaotic species could have survived for so long.

“Born in the Milky Way galaxy on a rather hostile planet they have creatively called “Dirt”,” the professor continued to the amused chuckles of the crowd, “they have survived countless generations of strife to now become one of the most recognizable species carving their way through the cosmos.”

Ozma paused for a moment and looked over the audience.

“Can any of you tell me why?”

The crowd was silent save for a few murmurs between groups here and there, but no one spoke up.

“I hope when you came to my lecture you didn’t expect me to do all the talking.” Ozma replied happily as he walked back and forth across the stage. “Come on, why do you think humans have survived for this long?”

Ozma saw a lone hand rise from the third row and motioned for the holder to stand up.

“Because they can breathe fire?” they remarked, drawing a rousing laughter from the crowd.

Ozma gave no sign of similar mocking behavior and simply nodded.

“They certainly can seem that way when you make one angry, as I can attest from first-hand experience.” Ozma said. “Does anyone else have an answer?”

Another hand rose further back in the crowd and again Ozma motioned for them to stand up.

“Because of their barbarity?” the second speaker said, this time drawing hushed tones of agreement from those around them.

“You certainly are closer to the answer.” Ozma said, motioning for the crowd to quiet. “When provoked an individual human can draw upon fits of strength that often will destroy their own body, but in the moment they wouldn’t even notice it until their body collapsed completely like a puppet whose strings have been cut.”

Many of the crowd had heard stories of human soldiers lost in this blood madness on the battlefield and had continued fighting even after a majority of their body was covered in third degree burns, who showed no fear when facing down a hive swarm single handedly with nothing but a crude slug thrower and harsh language, that even could wrestle a Draxic warrior into submission despite being half their size.

“In my many travels there is one quality of humans that has superseded their natural, and at times unnatural, strength and is the corner stone of their very being and the reason they have thrived amongst the stars.”

The crowd leaned in as Ozma stopped himself for dramatic effect, smiling to himself before revealing his answer.

“What makes humans interesting, is their adaptability.”

Whatever the crowd had been expecting this certainly was not it. Through the bright lights Ozma could see a few of the guests in the front row showing faces of disbelief, full of questions they thought they knew the answers too already.

“Across my years of travel I have never come upon a species that was so capable of enduring the rigorous extremes that the universe had to offer.” Ozma began, pacing the stage once more.

“I have seen them create homes for themselves on planets with suns that could melt flesh from bone in minutes, on planets so cold that the liquid of your eyes would flash freeze if exposed for even a moment; even on planets devoid of sunlight and filled with creatures of such horrific nature one would believe they were taken straight from the pages of a children’s book have I found them sitting around camp fires laughing into the night.”

Ozma turned and sat on a waiting stool on the stage to catch his breath. He sipped from a water container under the stool for a moment before setting it back down and continuing.

“When I was in the Gamma Belt I found myself waylaid at a space station waiting for the next shuttle out of the system.” Ozma began, his mind reliving the memories as if it had just been yesterday. “I wandered the hallways for days while I waited and came upon many unsavory characters of questionable intent along the way; safe to say I kept my purse string held close for much of the adventure there.”

“During my third day aboard the station I came across one of the most interesting people I have ever met.”

Ozma couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he recounted that strange man. “Their name was Oliver Reid and he owned a small food kart that was nestled on the lower levels of the station.”

“A scruffy human for sure standing no taller than me and missing a hand and an eye, he served a dish made from fresh Razor fish he kept in a nearby tank and prepared right before your eyes.”

A couple gasps came from the crowd at this. Razor fish were some of the most violent of aquatic life that had been discovered so far. Their spines were covered in long protruding spines so sharp that they could cut through metal when provoked.

“When I first met Oliver I could hardly believe his notion that he could somehow provide a dish out of such a violent creature, which he seemed to take offense to and promptly challenged me to a wager.” Ozma continued. “He said if I liked the meal he prepared that I would pay three times what was asked, and that if I didn’t I could eat it for free.”

“Intrigued by the human’s confidence I agreed to the wager and I bore witness to one of the most extraordinary feats I have ever seen come from the creation of a dish.”

“Without skipping a beat the human pulled out a sharpened wooden fork as long as a forearm and strapped it to his missing limb as he approached the tank holding the razor fish; closing his eye for just a moment and without hesitating stabbed the wooden fork into the pot and skewered a razor fish, killing it instantly.”

As Ozma regaled the crowd with his story they could not help but notice the tinges of excitement dotting the professors voice here and there.

“Here was a creature dubbed one of the most lethal killers of the oceans and a human missing an arm and an eye was able to kill it without even flinching.”

“What was even more impressive was that they were indeed able to create a dish worthy of renown that I gladly paid three times for.” Ozma finished as he saw a hand rise from the crowd.

“What does that have to do with their adaptability?” the guest asked. “Truly it is an impressive feat, but I fail to see how it relates.”

Ozma took in the question before standing back on his feet. “As I was eating the dish I learned that the reason Oliver had lost an eye and a hand was from his previous attempts to prepare the razor fish.”

“The first time he had tried his would be entrée sliced through his hand like it was butter and swiftly ate it before he could recover and reattach the appendage; while he had lost his eye on the thirteenth attempt when a spine punctured his eye after getting too close.”

The crowd collectively gasped in horror, one near the back even vacating the contents of their stomach if Ozma heard right.

“I asked him after finishing my meal why he continued with a practice that had cost him so much,” Ozma said, “and he looked me after rubbing the stump that had once held his missing hand and said “If you give up from making mistakes, then clearly you didn’t learn the right lesson it was teaching you.””

Ozma paused once more for effect now that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. “To say I was astounded by such an inspiring insight and find it in the proverbial armpit of the universe was something of an understatement at the time.”

“He told me that through his trials and mistakes he had learned that the Razor fish was unable to comprehend let alone sense wood leaving itself exposed, and that one of its natural defense mechanisms relied on it looking into it’s would be predators eyes and reading the intent from eye motions.”

“Can you imagine that?” Ozma said. “That through his failures this Oliver had refused to give up and continued to adapt and study his situation to such an extent that he was able to overcome seemingly impossible obstacles as if they were nothing more trifling then crossing the street.”

“In an instant the core of humanity was made clear to me; that when presented with a challenge neigh impossible that rather than retreat from it humans would greet it with a devilish smile and continue to change themselves until the impossible became reality.”

The projector that had died down during Ozma’s speech sprang back to life again and showed a new series of pictures. Human settlements on the frozen moons of Jkin VI, roaming human tribes riding massive desert sliders as they crested the roaming dunes of Hava Prime, and even and most astoundingly of the professor standing next to the one handed one eyed human Oliver smiling together over a razor fish dish.

“Humans have the uncanny ability to adapt themselves to whatever situation they come upon and despite the odds rise above the challenge and claim victory; and that is why I find them the most interesting species to observe in the universe.”

a collection of motivational insights regarding content creation and creative hobbies

and of course the classic

Humans are space warriors

So ya'll know about war? It's a crappy thing, isn't it? Families being torn apart, murder being commonplace, stealing what belongs to completely different cultures of people. All because some Rich dumbasses didn't like the way another country looked at them.

Humans are pretty good at fighting, so much so that we even make sports out of it, mma, paintball/airsoft deciding who gets the last slice of pizza out of your siblings; it's safe to say we humans don't exactly shy away from violence, between action movies, most video games and some of the sports I just mentioned it's become a common part of our lives.

Now, considering that Earth might be a deathworld, it's safe to say that this probably isn't normal across space culture. I'm willing to bet this would make us a very feared and/or respected member of the galactic council, making us especially good at being security guards, bouncers, soldiers, etc.

Again though, Earth is a deathworld, so our normal civilians would most likely outclass even the most well trained fighters from other races, but what about our pros? The cream of the crop? The people with looks that can kill.

I think it's fair to say that soldiers or martial artists would essentially be seen as mythical unkillible demigod. Certain aliens would most likely search for these people like an apprentice looking for the kung-fu master only known through legend, hearsay and that one shitty movie that no one liked based off of their life.

Not only that, in fighting we have mutual respect for one another... most of the time, but ignoring dickheads who kick someone while they're down and people who support the british soccer team, humans will know when to draw the line and let their opponent recover.

This culminates in us being one of the most well trained warriors and most well disciplined fighters in all of the galaxy.

Tundi sees Jesse: omg you’re here you’re here I’ve missed… I mean… hi. (they hug and cry and all is good)

Pup, sees Thunder: you’re here you came you… stop fussing I’m fine. (Lots of hugs and deep convos and Bumble trying to trip Thunder)

Fox sees his batch: you… came? You’re here? You… you care? (confusion and a little bit of venting then immediate forgiveness and hugs)

Stone, seeing his batchmates: you know what you did… (Boulder does not know but he plans on working it out so he can get his brother back)

Hound, dancing: my batch died 3 whole years ago, doo dah doo dah, but they loved me when they died, do-da-do-da-day

RIP to my home boy Wolffe

And that's that on that.

It’s-all-just-a-tv-show AU in which they’re all going over the script of the clone wars:

Fives: *reading silently*

Echo: *same*

Fives: what?!? *slams script closed* NO WAY!

Echo: *closing his script and wiping a tear away* aw man, just like that? Just “boom”?

Fives: *pulls echo into a hug* damn man, I’m gonna miss you

Echo: shit, me too. Ah, man, Rex’s gonna be so pissed.

*camera pans to Rex who’s just closed his script on the corner*

Rex: *pointing at the camera* you stop filming this shit right now, I’m going on a strike. *walking away* Oi Cody. CODY! I want you to make a petition online to the writers of this thing RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

i spent way too long on this story

The only human in our crew - one of our mechanics, Jedd - had seemed happy enough. He was respectful, clearly always trying to watch his smiles when he was with us, although his laughter was, according to him, uncontrollable. It took the crew a while to get used to the fact that the human made loud yelling noises and bared his teeth when he found something extremely amusing. Humans, though, made good mechanics - their combination of dexterity and strength meant that they could handle a wider range of potential issues than almost any other known race.

And, like all humans, he was brave, strong, and sometimes did things most people would consider unwise. Sometimes we would find him working on the hull while the ship was under countdown for launch. He would frequently add cosmetic improvements wherever he deemed necessary about the ship, hoarding junk materials in his quarters which would only reappear months later as part of a new project. Occasionally he would even improve existing machinery or electronics, which, strangely enough, he would forget how to use soon after installation - often, he would leave sticky slips of paper on the machine in question with instructions written in his native human language to remind himself how to use the new upgrade. 

He was the “extroverted” type of human, as far as anyone could tell. The symptoms were obvious: he did not spend much time in his quarters besides the third of the day spent in energy-recharging stasis, and he often invited members of the crew to talk with him while he worked rather than only engaging with them at mealtimes or downtime. In fact, he seemed to like it better this way, since he knew that his toothy smiles wouldn’t be seen if his head was buried in the mechanics of the ship. He didn’t seem to find it at all difficult, either - the human ability to perform several high-focus tasks at once is astounding.

But when the Federation requirements were updated and advised all Class-OO ships to have a biological generalists, our captain conducted interviews and hired a human named Stella. The regulations were put in place after a series of unrelated incidents involving accidental deaths caused by medicines that disrupted the functions of certain species. A biological generalist, with a wide knowledge of the internal biologies of nearly all of the Intergalactic Species, would be able to effectively advise the resident doctor on what was safest for the crew.

Stella was much like Jedd, in a way. She enjoyed spending time with the crew in the downtime space, telling jokes and stories about her childhood on Earth or her time in school. She was unusually brightly colored for a human, but she assured us that it was an artificial, cosmetic alteration, and that humans did not grow hair that was as blue as hers. She was extremely intelligent, also, and had an impressive memory for a human. Unlike Jedd, who often forgot the names of his crew members, Stella explained that she possessed what the humans called a “photographic memory,” where she simply had a much larger memory storage capacity than most other humans.

After a human week or two, one of us noted that Jedd had been lingering around the medbay much more than usual. We all rushed to ask him whether he was in pain or in danger - by that point, we had all heard the stories of humans cursed by their own constitution, suffering for days or weeks after exposure to toxins before finally dying. Jedd calmed us, saying that he wasn’t in any danger. He simply enjoyed talking to the other resident member of his species. They became friends very quickly, and we noticed Jedd seemed somehow even happier than his usual happy self, but in a different kind of way. 

Jedd and Stella originated from separate human countries, but, improbably, spoke the same native human tongue. They told us that to each of them, the other had a distinctive accent which told them where they were from, but none of us could notice the difference except in a small number of words. It was remarkable, however, how much more comfortable they seemed when speaking it; they never seemed to stumble over their words or misplace syllables in the signature human style of speaking the Federation language. The two would speak to each other in their human language in the downtime space, often increasing in volume as the conversation continued and the humans became more and more enthusiastic until they both laughed uproariously. Occasionally, they had a conversation with a different undertone, where Jedd would shrink into himself strangely as he spoke and Stella would reach for his hand, grasping it in hers in a motion that was clearly a form of affection. 

One day before we were set to land on Tlaapon, one of us injured in the medbay noticed an odd exchange between Jedd and Stella. Jedd had been covering Stella’s eyes in a very hostile motion, although her body language indicated that she was relaxed. Upon freeing her vision, Jedd showed Stella the new regulation caffeine dispenser he had installed in the medbay for easy access to the brain-altering drug. While deadly to almost thirty percent of the Intergalactic Species and a carefully regulated form of medicated therapy among most of the other seventy, humans are able to use caffeine as a mild performance booster, and even have the constitution to withstand daily doses for years or even decades on end. 

However, when Stella saw this, she did something strange: she pressed her mouth to his cheek, and they both smiled at each other. This was not one of the human behaviors known by the crew, and so it was only later, when we consulted the guidebook, that it was revealed that it was an act that signaled a human’s feeling of romantic attraction. And, most importantly, the lack of screaming or other human displays of displeasure indicated that the feeling of attraction was most likely mutual! This was cause for great rejoicing, as humans are usually very selective with their life-partners, and a human life-partner bond often mutually improves emotional state and well-being in general.

After only a few months on the ship, we noticed the signs of attraction beginning to increase in frequency. They would often walk together holding hands, and began to show each other their previously isolated realms of interest; Jedd loved to tell us about how he was teaching Stella how the engines worked, while, unbeknownst to him, Stella would excitedly tell us all she had learned from him the very same day. They would often demonstrate their affection via the exchange of shiny or colorful objects, which all humans love. Jedd made Stella bracelets or rings out of polished bronze and silver, and Stella would select vibrant flowering plants from the greenhouse and meticulously arrange them in a wrap of paper before gifting them to Jedd with one of their toothy human smiles.

One day, Stella sent a hidden message to a number of the crew. It was soon to be Jedd’s day of birth, and it was human tradition to conduct a celebration commemorating the survival of another human year wherein the human in question recieved gifts and the partygoers indulged in sweetfoods. She wanted to prepare the festivities in secret, however - yet another strange human tradition. However, she knew the human culture best, and so we followed her instructions, awaking before the shift change and spending much time making the downtime area as blindingly colorful as possible. Colorful strips of paper on the walls, colorful banners with traditional phrases, colorful cloths over all the tables, where Stella placed a traditional human sweetfood. The most prevalent color was yellow, as Stella explained it was Jedd’s favorite color, which confused us. How could one color be preferred over any other? They were all just wavelengths of light - but perhaps it was another human oddity. 

Stella then instructed us to hide and burst out yelling when Jedd arrived, but our camouflaging skills were not on par with that of the humans. After seeing us hidden, Stella laughed, saying that we “looked like elephants hiding behind streetlamps” (none of us knew what that meant), and then decided that it would be acceptable for us to simply wait for his arrival normally. 

When Jedd saw the preparations – the banner, the wall papers, the sweetfood, and the shiny, paper-wrapped box that Stella proudly held out for him – he breathed loudly, a look of shock on his face. We were momentarily worried that he was frightened or overwhelmed by the amount of color (as many of us were), but to our relief, he and Stella embraced. Jedd then spoke to her in their human tongue - as he said it, his face became unusually red. We all knew this was a symptom of human embarrassment or shame, but Jedd rarely displayed it, and so whatever he was saying must have been special in some way; perhaps another element of the festivities? To our surprise, Stella made a very high-pitched sound in response to his words and initiated the human mouth-press of affection! We all bobbed and whistled in delight as Jedd and Stella translated: Jedd had asked Stella to enter the life-partner trial period with him, and she had accepted! It truly was a joyous day!

Fox has caf rants after every Galatic Senate meeting. His favorite senators and (mostly) him talk (rant) about how much they hate Palpatine. But it’s mainly just Fox downing 16 cups of caf while outlining even detail about what makes Palpatine the worst person to ever exist in the galaxy while the senators nod and agree. By the end, everyone’s convinced he’s going to leave the room and go shoot Palpatine on the spot, and to be honest, none of them would stop him. They might even come to watch the show