In which management changes for the Potato Crew.

(And the writer finally read the TaS Master Document. All hail team TaS!)

Project Cameron had gone to shit. That was the only statement needed for the involved humans to know they shouldn’t bother to save the research and just sweep everything under the rug as nonchalantly as possible. The xenos had discovered their little secret and had intervened “for their safety”, so now Research Station #DX192 Titanic MCMLIV (or Tigh Tunic, as she was called to distinguish her from the hundreds of Titanics) had become a (not at all to size) mixed species station dedicated to the “good of all little-needs-protecting/warmcuddles/tiny-chompers”.

For the rest of the galaxy, though, it was Tuesday.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“How long you figure they’ll tolerate us?” Said Potato Nuggets, the (ex-human) Karnakian whose reptilian vocal cords were surprisingly (and scarily) human-like.

“Well,sheysheemedshinsherewhensheyshaidsheywouldn’tharmush.” Said Potato Noodle, the (ex-human) Jornissian whose speech was like a perpetual steaming pipe with no pause (but never hurried.).

“(But we freaks.)” Gestured Potato Kibbles, the (ex-human) Dorarizin who couldn’t speak human, thus, used sign language with mad ninjutsu skills. “(Are they not unnerved?)”

His fellow potatoes shrugged, and the trio continued their game of pass-the-ball as they sat down in a triangle in the rec room. It was fun, familiar, and there was just not much to do besides eat-sleep-get tested-repeat for years to come.

Meanwhile, the (fresh) scientific group of dozens of different xenos observed the trio of (hybrid?) xenos from behind the huge glass wall, all frantically taking notes as wild hypotheses flooded their minds to explain this bizarre miracle of science: How did they manage to pass and catch a human-made ball without destroying it?