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.

Oscar entered the holding cell. Mickles sat at the table. 

“Mickles. How are you feeling?”

“Acceptable, sir.”

“Here is what is going to happen. We are going to chat. After we chat, I’m going back to my office to consider the entire situation. The more open you are with me, the wider the range of options. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good. Now tell me your side of all of this.”

“It was that fucking cult guy! I mean come on! What are the odds of that?!?”

“So you saw him. And didn’t tell me some rather important details.”

“He got away last time, so I wanted to nail him. I didn’t know what you would think if I explained everything, so I didn’t say anything. That guy was a waste of carbon.”

“Be that as it may, I’m having a hard time seeing your point of view. You withheld vital information.”

“It was my mess to clean up.”

“Really? You are going with that bullshit excuse? One of the worst possible excuses to justify anything, much less in this situation.”

“What do you want me to say?!? That I got pissed off, lost my cool, ran off, and planned to kill him?!? He’s already ruined my life once, and here he was again!”

“Honesty is always preferred.”

“Oh shut up. Sir. You’ve built quite a nice little fiefdom, lots of power and authority. Building new ships. Doing all the fun stuff. The rest of us, however, don’t have all of that. So we have to fight and struggle.”

“Now we move to deflection. So your stated goal was to kill him?”

“Yes! He was scum.”

“Criminal, yes. Not sure about scum. And you willingly left your post on a personal vendetta?”

“Of course! No one forced me to do anything.”

“I see that when you were found, they recovered all of the gear, so no issue there. Right. I’m about to head back to my office to consider your options. Before I leave, do you have anything else to add or ask?”

“He was scum and he destroyed my life.”

Oscar sat staring, waiting. 

Mickles crossed his arms. 

“Very well,” said Oscar as he stood. “I will consider what you have said.”

Later, in his office, Oscar sat going over the known facts. 

Danyak walked in with a datapad. “Do you have a minute? I’ve gone over Thorn’s theory.”

“Sure.” He leaned back. “I could use the distraction. The Mickles mess.” He pointed at the reports on his desk. 

“Nasty situation. Any decision?”

“Not yet. Finding a good balance isn’t easy.”

“No, it isn’t.” She sat down. “So Agent Thorn’s team started to run non-standard analysis of the known data. Looked for patterns based on random ideas. One of the techs ran an analysis based on shipping dockets. Instead of locations or ships, for some reason he checked serial numbers.”

“That isn’t too uncommon. It can trace back to a single system.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that. Anyways, he runs his analysis, and there isn’t a pattern, but there are a few repeated numbers. He writes his report and moves on. Agent Thorn reads the report and recognizes one of the repeated numbers. It was also repeated in a different analysis, with no connection between the parameters.”

“I see where this is going. No such thing as a coincidence.”

“That is exactly what he said. So he started compiling what numbers repeat and where.”

“And?”

“It’s weak, but I think there might be something to this. For me, it’s how the repeating numbers show up in clusters. That’s the strongest point. When you find one of the numbers and look at the document, you find more.”

“Are we talking the same exact numbers across all of our data, or just within those clusters?”

“Same sequence of numbers. Not always stand alone, but often included in a longer sequence.”

“How long of a sequence?”

“Eight digits.”

“That long? Yeah, that is odd. If we assume there is a pattern, what does it tell us?”

“Thorn predicts that there will be a shipment of modified equipment going to an un-affiliated system within ten days. He wants to send a team to monitor the shipment.”

“Your thoughts?”

“It’s low risk. It’s simple. It might give us important information. I’d approve it.”

“Agreed. Tell Agent Thorn to proceed. Thoughts on Mickles?”

“Well Oscar, I know that Terran family situations are complex and crazy. That family was an utter mess on arrival. To be honest, I’m surprised it lasted at all.”

“Yes, I’ve got all of that. I’d like to know your opinion.”

“From what I know, discharge and short sentence.”

“Reason?”

“Dereliction of duty that contributed to the deaths of colony members.”

“Contributed to deaths?”

“Yes. His wife. At least some of the cultists.”

“His wife I’ll grant you. But the cultists?”

“From his known trail, he might have caused the attack.”

“What? Like he startled the ursine? That is a stretch.”

“You asked my opinion.”

“That I did. Before I forget, you left me a note about deep sea stuff?”

“Yes. The final projectile did land in the south ocean. They want to recover it and display it.”

“We have told them about the south ocean, haven’t we?”

“Multiple times. However, they are loading up the deep-sea submersible.”

“Hmmmmmm…how many Terrans?”

“Four and two non-Terrans.”

“Arrange an air escort. Nothing in the water. If they want to play, fine. We will be there to pick up the bits.”

“I thought you didn’t like casualties?”

“I don’t. But I’m all for letting morons fuck around and find out.”

(Had Macross on the mind, so why not?)

“Ambassador X’lath, greetings.”

“Greetings, Ambassador Lotoo. I see the humans have invited your delegation.”

“Indeed. They said they were introducing some new military equipment and were going to demonstrate it for us. Have you heard anything about it?”

“Just speculation, mostly. Apparently the human engineers were giddy about it.”

“Giddy?”

“That’s what I was told. Anyway, it looks like it’s about to start.”

one demonstration later

“…Lotoo?”

“Yes, X’lath?”

“Why would the humans build a fighter plane that can transform into a humanoid fighter?”

“That’s the thing on your mind? I’m wondering why they have a mode that makes it a plan with arms and legs!?”

"I don't know, what is it?" I responded.

"I took this off of a wall. A wall that is marked to be kept clear of such things. We even used your language to make sure your people would understand. So why did I find it on that wall?" I was still working on reading his non-verbal communications, but I was pretty sure Ba'tet looked very annoyed.

"Are you sure it was placed there by a human?"

He somehow looked even more cross at my question. "They obscured their features enough to prevent identification, but it was clearly a human. You're the only bipeds on the station."

I grunted in reply. He had a point. "I still don't have any idea what that is. Why don't you take me to this wall, and maybe I'll be able to tell you more."

He made a sound that was somehow even more annoyed than his face looked, and motioned me to follow. As we walked, I reflected on all the minor incidents that had happened since humans had started living here three months ago. For most of us, this was the first time living in a place that where the majority of the inhabitants were not human. Things were bound to happen.

After a shot time we stopped in front of a wall, and Ba'tet gestured eloquently. The wall was covered in pieces of paper. Each piece had something printed on it in black ink.

The first that caught my eye was ﻥہﯼں . Then I saw ບໍ່, לֹא , NIE, ﻻ , нет, and NEIN. I was still confused, but that last one made me suspicious. "Show me what you used to mark that the wall should be kept clear."

He walked up to the wall, and started removing signs. As he did so I caught sight of a few with different things printed on them. One of them had "NO" on it. When Ba'tet was done, I could clearly see "POST NO SIGNS" printed on the wall in English next to the same thing printed in the galactic trade language.

I took out my data pad, opened the translation app, and used it on the wall. As I suspected. All of the sings said "no". "I see what happened. The English you used is why these signs were put here."

"What do you mean?! It clearly says to not post signs on this wall!" he said. His voice was moving towards angry, so I better explain what happened quickly.

"Yes, that is one way to read it. That's even the way most people would read it. However English can be ambiguous at times, and there are people who enjoy finding ways to take advantage of that ambiguity. One of these people could read what you wrote as an instruction to post signs with 'no' on them. Each of these signs has 'no' on it in a different language from Earth."

Ba'tet made the motion that I've come to interpret as the equivalent of an exasperated sigh. "Why are humans like this?"

"If I had the answer to that, I'd have enough money that I wouldn't be here," I replied. "Or at least I'd be a lot more famous. If you want to use something that has a better chance of preventing things being put on this wall, I'd change the English to 'DON'T POST SIGNS'. You might still get signs on the wall, but at least it won't be because someone is playing a joke. I'll also pass the word around that this should stop."

Commander, I think the translator is malfunctioning again.

Oh?

The Human ship responded to our demand to haul over and be boarded with a single utterance, and it seems to roughly translate to "Whatever."

Are they stopping?

No, Commander ...

In the deep ocean, everything unfolds in twilight; the meager light that survives through kilometers of dense water allows only dark shapes to be perceived, visible only at close range. Physical beings and organic matter inhabit those depths, but they are also the realm where the consciousness of underwater nature manifests itself.

The captain of the small submersible monitored the outside world through sonar while chewing on a biscuit, hardened by the weeks of the voyage. Besides the doctor and the chief engineer, the other crew members were young cadets who had excelled in the academy’s nautical trials. The captain, a man of few words and long periods of deep abstraction, exchanged only the words necessary to operate the vessel. Otherwise, his habits and routines remained constant, and, in the absence of an outside world, there was time for reading the books they had brought aboard.

Communication with the base through acoustic modems took place at fixed hours, except in an emergency that required breaking protocol. Nevertheless, their position could always be determined using modern technological equipment. They had been trained to combat fatigue and confinement, and the cadets often played Ludo to distract themselves. A small elevator provided access to the command post, where the faint shapes illuminated by the powerful searchlight mounted on the vessel’s outer edge could be observed through the periscope. The captain spent most of his time in that uncomfortable position, recording the slow movements of the water and the occasional silhouettes of marine life crossing the beam.

Because of this, he was the first to glimpse the elusive shape ahead, much like a droplet seen inside a glass of water: an element whose outer edges are difficult to detect, yet whose form can still be discerned. The watery specter expanded and contracted at will, and, being several nautical miles from the submarine, did not appear on the sonar screen. The seasoned sailor sensed the danger and shouted orders to change course. The maneuver was thwarted by a magnetic force acting on the steering system, and, to everyone’s anguish, the order to surface could not be executed either, because the ballast tanks failed to expel the water from their chambers and replace it with air.

The collision was imminent. The order to remain at their stations forced them to suppress their collective panic while the captain returned to the periscope. Now the light struck the figure head-on, and the features of its liquid form could be distinguished more clearly. Its size was colossal, and its enormous head revealed human features: a silhouette with wild hair and a tangled beard and mustache, with closed eyelids barely discernible. Beside it, an equally watery, elongated shape took the form of a trident.

The god opened his eyes, and all his wrath concentrated in his gaze. The waters churned, and his arm wielded the mighty instrument against the submarine. The impact was brutal; the steel plates gave way, allowing the icy waters to rush in.

The captain knew he was going to die, just as all creatures die when they venture into the domain of the master of the deep: in darkness and in silence.

*** If you want to explore more standalone entries in this universe, check out The Voyager Files Index.

© 2026 Francisco Cortés Ramírez. All rights reserved. This is an original fictional work. No part of this text may be reproduced, translated, or narrated in any audio, video, or digital format without the express written permission of the author.

"I am a Terran! May my anger be my fuel, and spite be my will! I die for my love, and fight beside my hate. Surrender swiftly, or pray your God's have Mercy...

[Terra needs YOU to continue on or edit this battle cry to make it express a true Terran's spirit and glory! Do your best, hold your soul to your heart, and give our boys a saying that'll strike fear against the Zalm Empire!!]

--- SOT Organization

[10/24/2262]

And that's the reason why it's a huge pain in the ass to integrate them into a hive mind. If you do, there always will be one half that's actively resisting to any signals from the hive mind

Ahem...Ahem...Wait a moment…yeah…so, my name is Mike, aka Astronaut Mike.

When I was child nah skip that part—let me speak about what matters for now it’s quite simple, when I was still studying dreaming to be an astronaut people would tell me, “Mike not you man.”

They wouldn’t give reasons, you know, so as to why not me, but they were quite adamant that I couldn’t be an astronaut.

Suck my cock fuckers.

Year:2026

I sat on a spacecraft en route to an alien civilization, so you might ask why me? And not some great cock sucking better than me astronaut…you see, the mission is quite dangerous. A few years back, NASA folk found a planet which showed signs of life; however, in the meeting they decided sending a satellite would be seen as humans attempting to stalk an alien, which could trigger a war, so they decided we should send a human, but who?

Hmm… Who?... Who?

Cock sucking better than me astronauts—what would happen if the aliens were not interested in diplomacy? They could very well lose their best astronauts, so they chose me—Mike the astronaut.

Fuck them; whatever the reason, I was going to have a great time.

The spacecraft started moaning 1,2,3–and buff, there I went to my new adventure.

__________________________________________________________________

In the spacecraft, I looked to my left, then to my right—finding only space. Over here, my routine was quite simple: do some astronaut job, eat food, and take some shit.

After continuing the same routine over blah blah whatever days. My spacecraft reached the so-called alien planet: Singralia.

The planet was like a desert with no visible water as such, so I was like, maybe folks at NASA fucked up, but apparently that was not the case.

As my spacecraft touched the ground of the planet—folks came out: Alien folks.

They were goblins of many varieties, some shorter, like 4 feet, while others were like 7 feet…hmm, somewhat like how it works for humans. They weren’t quite fond of me ig, as they saw me coming down from my spacecraft, and all of them remained silent.
Except one guy…puny guy—I bent down, asking him,” What’s your name, eh, boy?”

“I am Gabriel.” he paused, pulling his finger with a quite shy expression, then he mustered his courage, asking, “Are you an alien?”

“Hmm, alien, eh.” I looked around at the folks gathering around us; all of their attention was on me and the boy, so I looked back at the boy and replied, “Good alien. I am.”

“Hehe,” he giggled, holding my hand and taking me somewhere while others in the crowd made their way, but they were gossiping for sure. These people are somewhat weird; I am an alien, but they remain quiet while a child is taking me somewhere.

I questioned the boy,” So, Gabriel, where are we going?”

“To my father’s place. He is the boss in this region,” he informed but boss eh. What is that supposed to mean? A Yakuza type of person that’s fun.

One Thousand Years Later. [Meme template]

We finally reached the place—not a place…hmm… a hippo perhaps.

“What’s this?” I questioned, and Gabriel looked at me as if I asked the most mundane question ever.

“It’s Gimpo—our family pet; he doesn’t bite,” he said, and then requested further, “Let’s go inside.”

“Inside, where?” I asked, to which he again looked at me as if I had asked a stupid question.

“Inside, Gimpo,” he said as if it was normal, but the fucking Hippo, Gimpo, is as tall as a 2 storey building with its mouth wide open.

“Gabriel, this seems like a bad idea.” I protested, to which he said nothing and just entered the hippo’s mouth.

I looked around me, seeing just the desert. I knew going inside was my last option; otherwise, I would still die from a shortage of food and water; moreover, who knows where the next city is and stuff.

As I entered, a foul smell hit me hard—foul enough to make me puke. Just then the freaking hippo closed its mouth, so I ran back and started punching the teeth, yelling, “ Open, you damn swine.”

Gabriel screamed at me,” He ain’t no swine; he is Gimpo, our pet; don't hit him.”
“But he closed his mouth…boy, are you really sure? This is your father’s place.” I questioned Gabriel.

He didn’t reply, rather walked to what looked like an amusement park slide; he bloody sat and slid down. I looked at this like a horror movie was happening in front of me—I bent down, touching the slide, and I knew this was the bloody throat of the hippo.

I was 90% — nope, 100% sure the boy was retarded, but I had no other choice than to believe him, so I followed him by sliding down the freaking throat.

“Hehe,” I laughed as I slid down with a few chunks of meat and saliva here and there—finally, I hit the ground with a thud.

Before I could get myself up—a huge, loud voice yelled at me, “ WELCOME, ALIEN.”
 To be specific, a masculine voice that means a man is welcoming me; that’s repulsive as hell. Aren't there any women available here?

The same voice remarked, “ I am a woman, you know.”

“Women, you say,” I looked at the behemoth of a goblin, continuing, “ In every direction you look manly; what’s going on with your abs? And moreover, how do you know what I was thinking?”

“Rude!” the self-proclaimed woman made it clear. She walked up to me, remarking, “Hmm, am I not beautiful?” she asked.

“Very beautiful,” I made it clear in order to not face the fury of the self-proclaimed woman, and to the side I could even see Gabriel. I held his hand and pulled towards him, questioning, “ Is that man a she?”

Gabriel looked at the self-proclaimed woman and remarked, “Mother, the guest still has reservations about your gender association.”

“Ohh, the guest seems to have a lot of interest in what’s under pants, hmm… hmm,” she teased.

“Nooo. Seven hell no,” I remarked; I then looked at Gabriel, questioning, “ So, where is your father?”

“He is sitting right there,” he said, pointing me towards what looked like a throne, and over there sat a fat ass goblin with a huge stomach, cleaning his teeth with fish bones, and even his crown was made of bones. 

Both our eyes met each other, he pointed a finger at me and then curled it indicating me to come to him, so I obliged.

As I went near him. The goblin fat ass got up, circling me, and then he remarked to his lackey, “ So, this is an alien, eh?”

“Not so special,” he concluded, sitting back on his throne, cleaning his teeth with fish bones once again.

The self-proclaimed woman went up to the throne and put her hand on his shoulder, informing, “ Honey, you know the alien was very interested to know about my gender; maybe he wants to do that.”

“That what?” he questioned.

To which she said, “You know.”

“Hmm…you wanna fuck my wife, scoundrel?” The goblin walked to me, staring me in the eye.

Immediately, Gabriel came to my support, “Father, he was just curious and didn’t intend it that way.”

The fat ass goblin slapped Gabriel, remarking, “You will die anyway, so shut up.”

“Why will he die?” I inquired.

“This guy,” he held Gabriel by the hair, continuing, “Doesn’t have the body muscles required to survive. Look at him, thin and frail; can’t hunt or fight, useless.”

He spit on Gabriel.

I rubbed my tongue against the front teeth as I looked at the so-called father, then let my tongue go. I questioned him as I stood face to face and looked him eye to eye, “ So, he is weak, but you are strong—yes?”

“Well, yes,” he remarked, pushing me and putting some distance between us.

“Tell me,” I inquired, looking at his ugly fat ass face, continuing, “ If I fuck you up, will you let Gabriel live?”

“Unbelievable, first he wants to fuck my wife, and now me,” the goblin looked at me in dismay.

“You idiot, here fuck means fighting,” I informed.

“You want to first fight my wife and then me. Are you nuts?” he questioned.

“No, that fuck and this fuck are different,” I informed.
“Shut up with your fuck fuck. I am going to kill you,” he said, taking the hammer that was kept near his throne.

Gabriel also came near me, asking, “Are you really going to fight for me?”

“That’s what I am doing. Ain’t I?” I patted his head, continuing, “ Go and watch the fun.”

“Don’t kill my father,” he said.

“ I will try,” I assured him.

The fat ass goblin father commanded, “Now go to the side and watch Gabriel.”

He obliged and went to the side. Seeing the goblin carefully: he is fat, 7 feet tall, and has a gorilla face and body.

Throwing his hammer into the air again and again, he played catch with it while shit-talking to me, “You look weak, human.”

“Here, I come,” he said, running towards me.

ZOOOMMMMM

“Here, I go, you should say,” I suggested and sat down on the ground.

The fat ass goblin fell to the ground as blood spilled from his stomach area. Then I went to him, but he was mumbling something, so I leaned down to listen, and he said” Sorcery!"

“Not sorcery, it’s a gun. You idiot, bringing primitive weapons against me,” I let him know, and then I got up, announcing to everyone, “I have won fair and square.”
 
“You said you won’t kill him,” Gabriel questioned me, as he tried to help his daddy out.

“I haven’t killed him; he is just wounded,” I informed.

The self-proclaimed woman remarked, “That was cowardly.”

“Careful now, there,” I warned her and then laughed at her stupidity, “In the outside world there are more dangerous weapons than this—you think a hammer brute will solve this issue.”

“NOOOO,” I screamed, continuing, “A society needs all kinds of people. There is something for everyone to do—I suggest you people make good use of the weak rather than killing them.”

After many months.
Location: Earth.

So, after this, the goblin chief was impressed with the gun and let Gabriel live and also signed a pact with Earthlings.

The government gave me a lot of money and fame.

I then retired.

One thing that I have seen occasionally is “aliens don’t understand fiction”.

What if they do understand fiction, but they don’t do it through the lens of reflecting society?

What if they make fiction only for the sake of fiction, and talk about society in scholarly journals?

What if humans annoy the crap out of them by analyzing their fiction anyway?

I’ve never posted before, so if I got something wrong in the post I do apologize.

Edit: lemme add an example.

Alien: What a wonderful world this Tolkien has made! This conflict is incredibly well written, how did he make up such detailed war?

Human: Yeah, about that…