Classic Always bet on crazy

This story was posted by an anonymous author over at 4chan's /tg/ board on 02-06-2014. It gave me a good laugh.

[HFY Thread]


Humans are the craziest mother fuckers, and I can prove it. Think of any other race out there that you think is crazy. The Deng maybe? The ones who live in mud deserts atop their computing lattices? Nah, that’s just what you do when the cheapest planets to colonize have no water, since no one wants those rocks. They’re only known for it because of their homeworld.

The only race that can compete with the insanity of humans has to be the Shant. Yes I said the Shant, yes I am talking about the species of micro stars that got their kicks swimming through gas clouds. Sure, they burned out—ha—and there’s only a few old geezers chilling out in labs across the galaxy. But ain’t nobody going to forget what a Shant screamer run was like. A hundred thousand kilos of fusion flying at you so fast they can reach out and fondle the speed of light, and not even to hit you, unless it was war of course, but just to give you a fusion paint job. Because why not.

But the humans are crazier. And the only reason they’re still around is because they only got on the scene after the Shant. Remember what the first thing they did was? Medical cybernetics. For like sixty cycles if you saw a human, what you saw was half robot. Gave everyone a real fright, thinking back to the old insurrection days. But they didn’t care. Every single one of them wanted to be their own Superman.

Without enhancements, there’s nothing special about them. They’re like you or I. ‘cept they don’t give a Fingar’s ass about pain anymore. If you happen upon a kid maybe, but any human you’re likely to meet has been around the block for a century and died a thousand times. They rushed their regen technology and pushed it to the absolute limits. I hear that they’re even starting to splice Shant organs into their bodies to keep up with the energy constraints.

I was in a human bar once. Every one of ‘em was modded from head to dick with cybernetics. I was sitting at the counter trying to figure out which of their “alcohol shooters” wouldn’t actually shoot me, and then which one wouldn’t be a lethal overdose. And I overheard an argument. And by overheard an argument I mean the guy behind me got his head blown off. Thirty seconds later the head was back and he blew the other guy’s head off.

Only for the two of them to laugh and order more shooters, pulling me into their table for some reason. I think they were arguing over what dick attachment was best for each race. I thank Time that we Kro look like pigs to them, damn sexual freaks.

But as crazy as they are, damn if they haven’t gotten good at it over the years.

The bar was an orbital, and just a little bit after that some raiders gave us a strafing run. The auto-turrets came on, but human technology will always be obsolete. Some say because they can’t afford it, or because they’re too dumb. I say it’s cus they don’t need it. When the shocks died down the entire bar jumped up. No they weren’t soldiers or anything, they were civies. I stumbled after them, high as a god damn satellite on some vapor they were passing around.

Outside the station is a Xin ship, making passing runs as fast as it can to demand some tribute. Know what the humans did?

They started making bets and boasts, as they walked to the air lock. I wasn’t in the back of the pack or anything, so they pushed me along and I couldn’t really get out of it, as I was trying to get my translators up and running. We finally stopped at the air lock, just a small service one. And you know what the one in front said? “Who says I can crash the ship with nothing but a mag-grapple?”

Almost forty thousand credits sprang up saying he couldn’t. And then they all looked to me, and I said I couldn’t turn down the odds, and said he might be able to do it. I mean, after a few runs, the Xin always come to an idle to talk terms with their target, so he’d probably be able to tag on to them. And after getting on, he’d just need a small explosive to wreck one of their stabilizer engines, and the auto-turrets would do the rest. I was a bit too high to realize he had said ‘nothing but a mag-grapple’.

So I forked up the money in my pocket, it was only like five hundred credits or something, payday had just come after all. And the guy whooped and hollered and threw his arm around me, pointing the mag-grapple at all of the humans. “Five hundred says I can do it, forty thousand says I can’t. Seems like good odds, I get half of course,” he announced before punching the air lock controls and shouting.

Crazy mother fucker didn’t even put on an exo-suit. I was so busy trying to not get sucked out the hatch I could only watch as he sprinted straight out and jumped into space; not even holding his breath, he was singing some bizarre drinking song about sailors, as loud as he possibly could. The Xin hadn’t even come to an idle yet! And he caught them on their passing run with the mag-grapple.

I was wrapped around a support beam as tight as I could, but the humans were crowded around the exit chanting, “Go, go, go, go, Go, Go, GOAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL!” they roared as he hit the Xin engine with a fucking flying kick, using his own mass to break the control foils. Bastard snapped his spine and leg doing it, but the ship starting spinning out of control.

I thought he was going to get flung into the abyss, but he snagged a hit with the mag-grapple back on the station, and before I knew it he was diving back in through the air lock, half frozen and entirely out of breath, as his friends shouted and cheered, and griped for their credits.

Never have I earned twenty-thousand credits so quickly.

Moral of the story? Always bet on crazy. Always.


Also, humans have strange ideas about intoxicated crewmen. These might be related. But I do not recommend being drunk if you're working a human ship, not if you value your honor.