Chuckled “I sense death behind us”
The moment the human said that some ordinance were detonated behind us, and a Vicious growl to our south -- Anon Guest
Human methods of memetic communication leave much to be desired. One has to know a certain volume of Terran art forms, especially popular Terran art forms, in order to understand what a memetic Human is attempting to communicate.
In this example, a stylised Human is sitting in a means of public transit and giggling about being in mortal peril. There is no further context. Humans have been known to fake a chuckle and say the phrase in a creepy falsetto. Usually, this happens before something explodes. Usually, the something explodes because of something the Human arranged beforehand.
Strangely, this phrase has never been any given Humans' last words. Statistically speaking, most Humans' last words are similar to, "They can't possibly hit us at this ran--"
Once this has been established knowledge, there are Humans who will misquote their own memetic communication methods because it amuses them. This is why most of the Alliance continues to classify Humanity as insane.
This is why the Companion occupation exists. The rest of cogniscent life needs someone whose job it is to be certain of what their assigned Human is actually saying. Ironically, this has done more to ensure that any given Human is more likely to speak plainly than otherwise. However, as always, there are inevitable outliers on the bell curve.
Meet Human Jo. They refer to their peculiar verbal collection of abbreviations, acronyms, portmanteaus, and memetic shorthand as "speaking in tongues". It has taken Companions Thork and Grex a record two Standard Months[1] to understand them completely.
Therefore, the survey mission on Veltex VII was disturbing on multiple levels. First, there was a resource extraction camp there, run by a group of Vorax. Secondly, those Vorax were extremely hostile towards otherwise nonviolent survey groups. Third, they were in the process of creating some extremely unethical weaponry.
Human Jo was suspicious in their absence a mere handful of seconds after learning all of this. Their last known words were, "Hang on a tick." Which was Human Jo's primary means of communicating, "I need to go fix something real fast."
The rest of the survey team eventually tracked Human Jo on a vector towards their camp and away from the Vorax's. Companion Grex went out with the security responders to find out (a) what the flakk Human Jo had been doing, (b) whether or not they needed medical attention, and (c) what the FLAKK Human Jo had been doing?
Human Jo was unharmed, and very pleased with themselves. They met the team with a casual disregard for any concerns the rest might be having, and lead them back towards their own camp. After about half an hour of this, Human Jo chuckled in a disturbingly unhumorous way and announced, "I sense death behind us," in a false and childlike falsetto.
That was when the Vorax camp exploded. Whilst not an "earth-shattering kaboom", it certainly made itself known via transmission through land and air alike. Worse, there was something in the forest with them. Now it was apparently angry, as an audible growl could be heard behind them and too their left.
It was this, and not the distress of their crewmates, that actually alarmed Human Jo. They became instantly concerned and turned to walk towards the ominous rumbling. "Aw..." they cooed. "Aaw, iss okay... Izza poor didduw kiddy upset? Aaaw, iss aw wight... Deres'a poor didduw kiddy kat..."
The "little kitty" was a feline-like beast that stood one point six Sidu at the shoulder and approximately massed the same as a bear. Human Jo apparently saw no difference between this animal and a lap cat or semi-domesticated Skitty. In fact, they were busily delivering ear massage and chin scritches to the creature. An animal that butted at Human Jo and switched from growling to meeps and purrs.
"Human Jo..." sighed Companion Grex. "What the flying flakk?"
"Oh right," cooed Human Jo. "You haven't met Zebra." They kept delivering scratches and the enormous monster of a catlike creature literally rolled over and acted like they were in seventh heaven. "I took her in after the Vorax got her mum and most of her den. Don't worry. She's really a softie."
This was going to be a lot to put down into the finalised field report.
[1] The Galactic Standard Calendar is four hundred days long and contains ten months made of four weeks, which are in turn made of ten days. Only Humanity seems to have any kind or problem with this.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / RATOCA]
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