#disabled human

The humans’ voices were low, loud, rumbles in as they boarded, speaking of things Feja didn’t know about and couldn’t 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.

“Hello, welcome to the Yenna,” ae paused, allowing a few seconds for the translator to work. It was always so awkward to wait. And sometimes older translators wouldn’t pick up aer voice correctly at all. “My 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.”

One of the humans’ mouths let out a few rumbles, followed by Feja’s translator repeating their words to aer, “Are their Uni-10 translators provided? I missed some of what you said.” 

Feja smiled and the human’s 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, “We don’t provide translators, but if communication is an issue, I can transfer you to a different group.” 

A pause, a low rumble, and then, “I think that’d be best. Thanks for being flexible!” 

The other humans in Feja’s 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 didn’t 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 mouth—a sound that ae knew humans could hear—but the human didn’t turn. Instead, they tried to open another door that also didn’t 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 angrily— humans could take Feja down in a second. They looked down to their watch and started typing something.

Hey! I’m Kell, they/them, human, and new on board the Yenna, but not a traveler. The text was transmitted directly to Feja’s watch, and ae was surprised to see it was in universal language, not a human one that would have needed further translation. I’ve been hired as a tech assistant, so I should get my own room, but my initiation guide didn’t tell me where it was, and I’m having trouble with these numbers. Does the ship use a different language?

Not an uncommon problem for those first on board. Why didn’t their initiator tell them that?

“Most written text on the signs is in the captain’s birth tongue,” Feja explained. Kell tapped their glasses and captions scrolled across their screen as they looked at aer. “It’s Suav, and probably not in your translator’s database. You can add it, or you could use Anglu, which is close enough that it picks up most things.”

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.

“Are you alright?” Ae asked, cocking aer head. Even with how durable humans were, most of them didn’t hit themselves. Faja’s words scrolled across Kell’s glasses, then they laughed. 

I’m fine. That was sign language; I was calling myself stupid because I’m about 100 doors and a floor away. They looked up and chuckled.

“Sign language? Like the Ruq’?”

Yeah, though the Ruq’ never evolved ears. Mine just don’t work, I’m what humans call Deaf. I grew up with signs.

“So you sign to your fellow humans?”

Ha! Kell raised a lip—a sign of a negative emotion, though Faja wasn’t sure which one. I wish. I’ve only met a few who know any, and then usually not the same one I use. I text to talk to most beings. That’s why I’m in tech and not navigation.

“But you use the Universal Interplanetary Language, not Human, and that’s quite a feat of learning. Surely you had a choice in your occupation, especially considering how you’re a human…” 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 didn’t 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. 

When you can’t 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. 

Feja winced at aer own thoughts of Kell’s possible violent nature. Ae looked down at aer messages, a wall of one-way texts, and winced again. Ae typed back, that’s my reason for learning UPL, too. Receiving the text, Kell’s eyes widened. 

You stopped speaking? My translator can write your words out for me.

Feja smiled. It didn’t seem fair. We can keep a record of what I say, too.

 Thanks. Kell blinked and shook their head. That’s not something I even thought of.

I know what it’s like when it’s 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. 

I’ll walk you to your room. I can read Suav numbers, at least. What’s yours?

Kell brightened and checked their brief. It should be 470. 

Alright, that’d be down this hallway. It’s a relief, Faja thought, that they aren’t pushing me away.

A few steps later, Faja’s watch buzzed. Ae looked down.

Hey Faja, how many languages do you know? Kell looked at them and Faja stared. Human’s colors were usually so dull, but aer eyes were drawn to the vibrant green of Kell’s, a color rarely seen in space. Shaking aer head to focus, ae counted the languages ae knew.

Three fluently, five partially. They’re fun to learn, though it doesn’t 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 isn’t always about hearing. Have you thought about learning sign language?

It was Faja’s 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 couldn’t 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 wasn’t a question, then, was it? This deathworlder wasn’t so bad.

ae typed aer reply: 

I’d love too.

---

“Uh,” they looked confusedly at the translator. Though translators would work in Hai’s tongue, xi preferred to hear xir own language, and who were they to deny xir?

“I don’t take kindly to your advances. I brought my beings, and will not have you within two meters of them,” she supplied. Behind Hai, a tall being ducked under the door, glowing faintly—a light alien. Holding to xir robe entered a female human with loose brown hair, wearing human attire: a T-shirt and shorts.

“Greetings Mg. Captain,” said the light alien. Then to Hai, “what a nice ship this is.” Hai smiled warmly, then dropped xir expression as xi turned toward the captain again.

“Guang and Fern will be exploring your ship as we talk.”

“Of course, Ser Hai, they will not be bothered. Now, shall we move to the conference room?”

---

While Hai went to discuss politics, the tall being and human went sightseeing. Guang reached out a hand to brush dust off the top of a parked ship. It preferred to keep things tidy, but few were tall enough to see the dust that it could. When it looked down, Fern was gone.

---

Kell was a human technician aboard the Yenna, a spacecraft specialized in human recreational transport. They knew most of the crew on board, and this one wasn’t one of them. She was obviously distressed, pacing up and down the narrow corridor and wringing her hands. 

Kell opened their watch to link their translator to the hers, but no connection appeared. Looking again, she wasn’t wearing any watch. Since Kell was deaf, they only signed. While they could read and write UIPL, it wouldn’t help if the human had nothing to read it on. But the person needed help now, so Kell decided to try ASL.

Hello, I’m K-E-L-L, Kell, they signed slowly. You, they pointed at her, OK? They connected their pointer and thumb in the universal non-ASLsymbol. Or the french chef hand sign among some groups of humans.

She was not facing them head on, but she apparently caught what they said. She started to hit her hands together, one in a thumbs up and one flat in a repeating: Help! 

Ok! Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Kell reached out to calm her frantic signing, but she flinched away.

As they drew back, vibrations distracted them; something large was approaching. They braced themselves and turned toward the corner, from which a dim light was gradually growing. The being that appeared was talking. Its words scrolled across Kell’s glasses in a live transcription.

“Fern, thank goodness!” The tension left Guang’s body as it saw her, but she didn’t stop signing help. “It will be ok. This will pass and we will rest and go back home.” 

Turning to Kell, it asked, “do you have a room where the lights can be a dim purple? With a speaker for music? I’m her guardian, Guang, it/its, light alien.”

Thankfully, this alien had a watch.

Kell, they/them, human. I don’t speak, so I’ll text. I can take you somewhere, Kell texted back.

“Alright, one moment.” Guang turned to the human, speaking to her in a low voice but never touching her. Then to Kell it said, “let’s go slowly.”

Kell led the tall alien, and it in turn led the human, who held onto its robe. Once safely in the room, Guang adjusted the lighting and thanked Kell for their assistance. It asked for their contact code, which Kell gave. Though they hoped that it was not going to report them for making the human cry. It didn’t seem the type, but Kell hadn’t seen its species before, so couldn’t read its body language. Guang thanked them for their help once more and closed the door.

---

The captain sank into their chair. The talk went fine—no one died, thank god—but afterwards… they lost about ten years of their lifespan in stress.

It started with Hai suddenly standing in the middle of a sentence, eyes looking through the left wall, hands clenched. The gravity in the room doubled with the weight of xir emotion.

“Ser Hai, what may I do for you?” the captain gasped out, glancing between Hai and the wall.

“I’ll be leaving in two hours. Prepare my ship.” Hai swept out of the room, not waiting for an answer.

“Of course, Ser,” they inhaled deeply, able to breath again. They ordered the preparations be made and hurried to the control room to see where Hai had gone and what needed to be done in order to avoid damages. 

To their surprise, camera footage showed Hai sitting in a dimly lit room, mouth moving in quiet song. Besides xir sat xir partner, the light alien, and in between them, rocking back and forth, their human. After two hours, her rocking slowed and the trio stood. Hai cloaked them in darkness as they walked back towards the docking bay.

The captain and interpreter were there when Hai arrived. Briefly stepping out of the shadows, Hai addressed them.

“Your request is not granted. We will be keeping our solar system quiet. Travel may pass within five light years of my sun, but any closer and you shall not be seeing that ship again.” 

The captain flinched at the electricity that crackled in the air. What was it that bothered Hai so? What happened with the human? Why was Hai sparing them if they did something wrong? They didn’t risk asking, and the fae, light alien, and human left without another word.

---

Working on a panel of wires, Kell clicked their tongue to the rhythm of their music’s vibrations. It was rare to come across another disabled human in space, and even rarer that that human had real support. How lucky Fern was, and how excited Kell was for the invitation that Guang had promised to send to them. A human who they could connect with, and a chance to visit the planet of a space fae? Few could say they’ve had the honor.

---

For your information:

Mg. is short for Mage, and is a gender neutral title for Mister or Miss. Idea courtesy of @apolloendymion (link). Ser is a gender neutral title for Sir or Miss.

As for language, unless otherwise specialized, communication is in the Universal Interplanetary Language (UIPL), the language of trade and international politics.