The sign said "Old Terran style poetry for sale! Custom sonnets, written for you about what you love, [i]in GalStand[/i]! Please fill out form and provide one Hour; finished poem will be sent to you within the next ten days. 50% discount for JOATs." The human seated at the table the sign hung from had a large stack of blank forms, a couple of completed forms, several one Hour notes, a notebook, and what looked like several kinds of dictionary. They were busily scribbling in the notebook and muttering to themself, occasionally crossing things out, and frequently checking the dictionaries.
On closer inspection, one of the "dictionaries" was actually a thesaurus.
They'd been surveying the planet for several months now, the haven-worlders and their human friends. The planet was more than sufficient for colonization, that seemed to be sure, but they wanted to see how the changing of the seasons played out in full. Sitting within the large shelter base they'd set up, the humans feeding more wood into the fireplace they'd absolutely insisted on building into the design of the base, the captain had an odd feeling of peace as they relaxed on the lounger by the window. Springtime rain was pattering on the roof, the crew and scientists were talking, some playing games of dice, the crackle of the very well contained fire which brought extra warmth into this place. They realized they felt... content tonight. This place felt like... well it felt like home. From when they were young. A rainy night like this? Made them look forward to when this place opened for colonization and they could bring their family here.
The ship is being raided by pirates, you and the human locked yourself in the storage bay. The human is applying some liquid on their skin, asking “could you help me put on the shield generator?” You assisted them asking what they trying to do. “I’m gonna do a old scare tactic” while talking they snap their fingers and flames begin to cover their arms
Humans love stories. Humans also love adventure, and choice, and danger. Thus was born the "choose your own adventure" style of story. A small group of level 5 havenworlders, in an attempt to improve their genetics, undertake reading one of these stories, with the goal to "survive" to the end of the book. They quickly discover that survival alone does not always a "good" ending make.
Everyone's heard of the Terrible Twos. Well, everyone who's familiar with raising human infants. A piece of information that's been surprisingly slow to make its way around, though, is that those years are only so terrible because the little ones have wants and needs and thoughts that they don't know how to communicate; a combination of not being exposed to the words for what they feel and having tongues too big for their mouths, making it near impossible to articulate the words they do know.
All of this can be circumvented with any form of sign language and a bit of effort to introduce more vocabulary on the part of the caretaker(s).
That said, toddlers are universally curious, not so good at thinking ahead, more mobile than expected, and surprisingly good at disassembling everything they come across in an effort to find out what's inside. What happens when a mixed-species daycare, meant for the young offspring of ship-board passengers, finds itself saddled with a toddling human who, while familiar with instructions to be "gentle" with soft, furry friends (in an effort to get them to stop yanking the poor skitty's fur and sticking their fingers up the dog's nose), hasn't gotten the memo that the whole of the universe isn't familiar with the cobbled-together signing vocabulary they use with their parents to communicate such vital things as "baby eat waffle" and "baby drink juice" when they want something specific.
An instructor greets his new students in the class known as "Know Your Human" A class meant to prepare various individuals for the maddeningly wonderful work known as being a human's companion.
It is well known that humans are insane, dangerous, and violent. And yet, they are also the most gentle, kind, thoughtful, and soothing species in the galaxy. You will find they are wild, yet tame, they are beyond stupid, yet terrifyingly brilliant, they brought their furry headaches known as cats, yet those animals turned out to be so valuable there's not a single station without one. They're as terrifying as a very large, very hungry, Oshit, as destructive as an exploding star, and yet they are the least terrifying and most creative species yet discovered.
For those studying humans, all of these facts are 100% true. There is not a single lie anywhere to be found. But, my students, don't be fooled. This species, and this course, will test the limits of your endurance both physically and psychologically. However, in the end, after your training here, you will be able to better work with, and handle, the humans you are assigned as your companions. And, you will find, it will be the most rewarding, and the most heartbreaking, career you've ever had.
As a warning for any future scientist: Do not hook up a warp-drive engine to a gravity-generator. you will create a gravity cannon that will obliterate 1/3 of a class zegalbond warship, but also lose 1/3 of you blood without any wounds.
The two human in this ship are really close. They will do nearly anything to save the other. On the other claw, they destroyed the training room arguing about a earth insect is a lighting bug or firefly.
Some level four, and level five, havenworlders know their species is quite fragile. They also know that, in order to survive, to thrive, in this harsh universe, they need to grow stronger. With that in mind, and speaking to other havenworlders that were of higher levels, they all agreed training was in order. They hire a team of humans to help them learn to grow stronger. So, when they have their children, their children will be born stronger. The plan was for their children, like the parents, to train here too, and make things better for their people in the long run.
@InterNutter Yeah I saw that, the red wave of crabs. I showed a friend's kid a video of them and they asked me if the ground was bleeding because of how many there were. Always makes me wonder just how many predators are filled to bursting every time the crabs make their march.
Humans are insane. Definitely. Undeniably. Humans are insane by the standards of the greater galactic community. That did not prepare anyone for the sight of one of the passengers, at most five from the look of them, possibly younger from the sound of them, seizing a mug meant to hold hot liquids, approaching their nearest parent, and saying:
"Hey! Where my coffee?"
That the desired liquid turned out to be [i]hot cocoa[/i] that the child was only [i]pretending[/i] was coffee did little to ease the crew's distress at the thought of the chaos that could be created by a very young human energized by caffeine.
They were wealthy. Beyond wealthy. They owned two space stations and an entire solar system, and ran these places harshly. Those that displeased them lost their jobs and were often left in ruin, even for the smallest infractions. Entire families sent into desperate poverty and isolation just because a single member made a mistake on the job.
And for them? Life was excellent. They had everything they could ever need or want. They lived in utter luxury. They had more Time than they could ever spend and had a devil-may-care attitude toward the rest of the universe. But you know what they say about how all parties must end? The people, tired of mistreatment, refused to work. Found other jobs. Some who knew the products they produced found a way to make knockoffs that were just as good, in fact in some ways better, than the original, and sold them for far less. Business partners and trade deals began to dry up as people found other ways to live.
Even the solar system they owned, the sun suddenly going unstable and the people that lived there all desperately fleeing until no one remained on the one inhabitable planet. The unstable sun flaring out, it had a previously unknown 20,000 year cycle of stability, then severe solar storms that lashed the entire system, before returning to a stable, calm, course. This sudden stormy period ruined them. Their finances slowly dried up, the life of luxury and constant spending suddenly curtailed, they began having to sell many of the luxuries they took for granted. Now, they had to live the life they had forced upon so many others. But could they?
A human with a fascination with the history and preparation of toxic plants for food is caught in a survival situation, on a death world filled with toxic plants, with a group of havenworlders who require simple sugars. With a scanner, personal knowledge of ancient human techniques for purging toxins from potential foodstuffs to make them edible, and a time limit based on the amount of prepackaged food that survived the crash, this scholar has to find a way to process certain death into edibility.
Bonus points if the human has to or chooses to eat incompletely prepared food in order to give more packaged safety to the havenworlders and winds up sick enough to be miserable, but not too sick to gather, pound, dry, crush, soak, and boil things.