Humans are Deathworlders, but they can be Friends, too.
Context: the main alien is Feja,ae/aer, an adult 4th gender tuscia (bipedal beings that communicate mainly through frequencies higher than humans do. They have 6 sexes and 4 main societal gender roles)
Feja didnât get along well with aer crewmates. It was always hard to communicate cross-species, and even harder when most of them were humans and couldnât hear you. Thatâs why, when they stopped to pick up a group of even more humans in the Acrux solar system, Feja wasnât exactly excited.
The humansâ voices were low, loud, rumbles in as they boarded, speaking of things Feja didnât know about and couldnât share. But ae had to do aer job, which involved initiating a small group of new humans who would share the same sort of tasks as aer. Not that ae wanted to share tasks with beings who drank poison for fun and kept predators as pets, but aer job was aer job.
âHello, welcome to the Yenna,â ae paused, allowing a few seconds for the translator to work. It was always so awkward to wait. And sometimes older translators wouldnât pick up aer voice correctly at all. âMy name is Feja, ae/aer, tuscia, and I will be orienting you to your roles and responsibilities. You should have already received a brief. If you have any questions about that, please let me know.â
One of the humansâ mouths let out a few rumbles, followed by Fejaâs translator repeating their words to aer, âAre their Uni-10 translators provided? I missed some of what you said.âÂ
Feja smiled and the humanâs eyebrows scrunched. From previous experience, ae knew that it was confused, probably not used to tuscia body language. Feja let out a small hiss, but replied, âWe donât provide translators, but if communication is an issue, I can transfer you to a different group.âÂ
A pause, a low rumble, and then, âI think thatâd be best. Thanks for being flexible!âÂ
The other humans in Fejaâs group had better translators, and ae was able to finish aer initiation protocol with few issues. Slightly exhausted, ae started to walk back to aer room. Why did ae ever sign up for this? Why didnât ae apply to somewhere where beings could actually converse with aer without a translator? And why, oh why did ae have to work with so many deathworlders?
Turning into a narrow corridor, Feja saw a human, looking at a number on their watch, then the signs next to each door, apparently trying to find a match. Their long white hair was plaited and reached their waist, and they were wearing a blue tunic that contrasted with their tan skin. It was too narrow to slip past, so Feja clacked aer mouthâa sound that ae knew humans could hearâbut the human didnât turn. Instead, they tried to open another door that also didnât open, evidently not theirs . Feja clacked louder, to no response. As the human tried the next door, ae got rudely close and clacked once more. The human jumped, then turned and waved. Lucky not angrilyâ humans could take Feja down in a second. They looked down to their watch and started typing something.
Hey! Iâm Kell, they/them, human, and new on board the Yenna, but not a traveler. The text was transmitted directly to Fejaâs watch, and ae was surprised to see it was in universal language, not a human one that would have needed further translation. Iâve been hired as a tech assistant, so I should get my own room, but my initiation guide didnât tell me where it was, and Iâm having trouble with these numbers. Does the ship use a different language?
Not an uncommon problem for those first on board. Why didnât their initiator tell them that?
âMost written text on the signs is in the captainâs birth tongue,â Feja explained. Kell tapped their glasses and captions scrolled across their screen as they looked at aer. âItâs Suav, and probably not in your translatorâs database. You can add it, or you could use Anglu, which is close enough that it picks up most things.â
Kell nodded and switched their watch to Anglu, then translated a plaque on the wall. Seeing the results, they hit their forehead with their fist, thumb out. Feja startled, neck ruff raised.
âAre you alright?â Ae asked, cocking aer head. Even with how durable humans were, most of them didnât hit themselves. Fajaâs words scrolled across Kellâs glasses, then they laughed.Â
Iâm fine. That was sign language; I was calling myself stupid because Iâm about 100 doors and a floor away. They looked up and chuckled.
âSign language? Like the Ruqâ?â
Yeah, though the Ruqâ never evolved ears. Mine just donât work, Iâm what humans call Deaf. I grew up with signs.
âSo you sign to your fellow humans?â
Ha! Kell raised a lipâa sign of a negative emotion, though Faja wasnât sure which one. I wish. Iâve only met a few who know any, and then usually not the same one I use. I text to talk to most beings. Thatâs why Iâm in tech and not navigation.
âBut you use the Universal Interplanetary Language, not Human, and thatâs quite a feat of learning. Surely you had a choice in your occupation, especially considering how youâre a humanâŚâ Feja shifted on aer feet. The human-other ratio on board Yenna was unusually high, but that was because they specialized in human transport. Humans easily got jobs as medics, security, or anything else, especially as almost every intergalaxy ship had at least one. But most beings didnât want to so much as be near the same fleet with so many of such a volatile species. Humans were known for their adaptability, cunning, and ferocity after all.Â
When you canât communicate with most people, you learn to do what makes life easier, and for me that was making sure to limit translation times as much as possible.Â
Feja winced at aer own thoughts of Kellâs possible violent nature. Ae looked down at aer messages, a wall of one-way texts, and winced again. Ae typed back, thatâs my reason for learning UPL, too. Receiving the text, Kellâs eyes widened.Â
You stopped speaking? My translator can write your words out for me.
Feja smiled. It didnât seem fair. We can keep a record of what I say, too.
 Thanks. Kell blinked and shook their head. Thatâs not something I even thought of.
I know what itâs like when itâs more work to communicate. The humans tend to avoid me. Faja recalled the human who requested a new group earlier that day.
Me too. Kell had a look on their face that Feja felt often.Â
Iâll walk you to your room. I can read Suav numbers, at least. Whatâs yours?
Kell brightened and checked their brief. It should be 470.Â
Alright, thatâd be down this hallway. Itâs a relief, Faja thought, that they arenât pushing me away.
A few steps later, Fajaâs watch buzzed. Ae looked down.
Hey Faja, how many languages do you know? Kell looked at them and Faja stared. Humanâs colors were usually so dull, but aer eyes were drawn to the vibrant green of Kellâs, a color rarely seen in space. Shaking aer head to focus, ae counted the languages ae knew.
Three fluently, five partially. Theyâre fun to learn, though it doesnât mean much when no one on board can hear me.
Kell thought for a second, started typing, paused, then sent their message. They peered at aer from behind their hair.
Language isnât always about hearing. Have you thought about learning sign language?
It was Fajaâs turn to pause. Kell fidgeted with a button on their watch. This human was making an effort to bond⌠with aer. Even though ae was a different species, and even though ae couldnât offer any career advancement or connections. Ae closed aer eyes and inhaled. Maybe, just maybe, ae would make their first friend on board. It really wasnât a question, then, was it? This deathworlder wasnât so bad.
ae typed aer reply:Â
Iâd love too.
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Based on a post by @bunnyycat, this is the edited version post-a-good-nights-sleep. Image description in alt.











