Jasmine swiped through one video after another, funny accidents, pranks gone wrong, hardcore parkour, and the aliens were mesmerised. She’d never heard either of them laugh so hard before. Rynard sounded like a lion with a bad cough and Xant’s was closer to a crocodile’s snicker, so it wasnt something she would have instantly recognised as laughter in the first place.

“This! Now this is entertainment!” Rynard exclaimed, thumping his tail on the deck repeatedly,

“Oh I concur!” Xant agreed, closing his mouth to nod. “This is truly a masterwork of comedy!”

“You know it’s funny, back on earth slapstick is usually seen as ‘low-brow’. I didn’t think it would be your taste, Xant.” Jasmine mentioned, scrolling through her gallery looking for more videos for them to watch. Xant stood back and smiled.

“Ah, on the contrary, Jasmine. While words and cultural tics may be more the intellectual’s field, as a Zenthi, physical comedy gets the bigger laugh.”

Jasmine nodded her head as it dawned on her. Xant’s race was psychic, and while she had seen a few bits of writing here and there, most of the GC tech seemed to work on voice commands or Freq Pulses. The written word was nowhere near as prevalent as it was back on Earth. It made sense. The translator worked on thoughts, not ‘words’. Even some of the concepts she had learned about were probably only translated to the closest ‘human equivalent’.

But you didn’t really need to translate a precisely timed shot to the nuts.

She selected another video and popped it on the screen, and the two aliens did not laugh. Jasmine tilted the screen to see what was up, the video was of a man not using the leg press for its intended use.

“He’s doing it wrong,” Jasmine explained while chuckling. “The way he’s doing it, he’ll over-extend his legs and they may snap, he’s not working the muscles at all!”

“‘Working’ the legs?” Rynard asked, which really threw Jasmine off.

“Yeah? So the muscles don’t atrophy?” she continued but she was met with blank stares. “Don’t you train to keep in peak physical condition?”

“No, we train to keep our instincts and skills up.” Rynard crunched his fists, flexing his chest. “Our bodies don’t degrade like our brains do.”

“We are in peak physical condition, always,” Xant noted, before adding, “...for what we were designed to do.”

“You have no idea how much I wish that applied to human bodies,” Jasmine half laughed. “We gain and lose muscle in the blink of an eye, only takes a couple of meals and doing nothing to balloon…” She looked down at her own body and tugged at the waistline of her jeans. “I mean, I’ve lost a bit of weight since being here, whether it’s due to stress, diet or a combination of both…” It was probably both. “I enjoyed working out in the Esaander training room, I should start that up here as well.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Rynard concurred, relaxing back against a wall. “Too bad that wouldn’t work for the doc! He needs muscles he ain’t got for his suit to work.”

Xant nodded sadly in concurrence.

Galactic Council Citizenry and Military were designed for peak efficiency. Their bodies worked without stress or failure and could calculate their dietary intake down to the kilojoule. They would never experience the kind of fluctuation Jasmine was describing.

“Really? You guys can’t just use stimulants?” she suggested.

Xant and Rynard shared an uneasy look before Xant spoke up.

“It is unorthodox, but not out of the realm of possibility…”

Rynard raised an eyebrow, and Xant folded his hands behind his back in thought. Unorthodox, yes. Muscle stimulants were just for repairing damage done to bodies, not so much to transform a perfectly functioning body. Not in the GC, anyway. Outside the areas of reclamation, where pirate bands profited off the citizenry’s hard work and benefited from the military’s border security, they did all sorts of things to themselves outside the descriptions of unorthodox. Things that could be described as barbaric and deforming. “I may be able to make an exception to their use, considering the circumstances.” Xant replied, more to himself than the others.

“You know, I’m just saying since you guys can regrow bones in hours, muscles would be easy right?” Jasmine defended, feeling the tension now like second nature. “Or I could give you some really easy exercises? There isn’t a proper limiter on your body growth is there?”

Xant once again pondered.

“Technically no, there is no limiter, I could theoretically grow the muscle as you do.” Perhaps a slow growth was what he needed. He was still learning how to use his new neural tissue to its fullest after all, having to learn how to control new physical muscles as well could be a sensory overload. His brain twinged with another tangent. It was interesting what humans chose to advance with their technology and what they didn’t. The medical and biological tech they seemed to be very wary of, while throwing their full might into, as far as he could tell, creature comforts and the arts. Strange combination indeed.

“Well, I’ll go check downstairs.” jasmine stated, stretching and standing up from the couch, “They have a Michelin star kitchen on board, it would be weird not to have a gym squeezed in there somewhere.”

The human pocketed her phone and went below deck, peering through more of the undiscovered rooms, but her gut told her that she needed to go right to the bottom.

She was right of course, there was indeed a whole mass of equipment to be found in the ship’s storage, mostly all toppled over and covered in jet skies and quad bikes. She was going to need some help.

Jasmine dashed back up on deck.

“I’ve got good news and some bad news,” she stated, hands on her hips. “Good news is that we have the equipment! Bad news is that I’m going to need some help getting it above deck.”

Rynard chuckled and looked knowingly towards Xant. While the captain was indeed the stronger of the two, there was no way he was going to fit downstairs. Xant was going to have to re-don his suit to get the equipment up. A prospect he wasn’t entirely thrilled about.

Since gaining his new nerves, putting on the suit was becoming more and more of a chore. The wound pain lingered for what seemed like an hour when it should have been seconds at best.

“Give me a moment to prepare and I shall follow you down,” he told Jasmine, walking through to the ‘cocktail room’ where his power armour currently resided.

“Just meet me right at the very bottom! I’ll clear what I can for you!”

Xant stomped very carefully down stairs.

There was little room for error and the last thing he wanted to do was fall a large distance down a narrow stairway. Being inside the suit was tense enough, the added stress of the claustrophobic hallway did not help in the slightest.

Jasmine waved upon his arrival.

“Here we are!” she proclaimed, standing amongst the mess of wires and mechanical pulleys.

“I can bring the weights up, but you’re going to have to handle this.” She pointed to a tracked incline plane. Xant walked over to inspect the equipment while Jasmine hefted the training weights upstairs.

The machine wasn’t heavy in his suit, but it was still awkward to carry. He opted to stick his head through the hole and have the large track run down his back, his tail ensuring there was no movement.

Jasmine squeezed past him once or twice, ducking into adjacent rooms and offering words of encouragement. Xant was taking it slow, there was no rush.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As he reached the top the doctor felt a rush of accomplishment. He’d never done any physical labour and to be able to achieve such a task had him pretty pleased with himself, until Rynard plucked the machine effortlessly off his shoulders.

“Let me help ya with that,” the captain said, holding the equipment and flipping it around with ease. “Now which way is it supposed to sit?” he asked, studying the angles.

“Flat on the ground!” Jasmine laughed, appearing with the last load of weights. She placed them neatly in a line to the side while she directed Rynard. Jasmine patted the device and explained.

“This is a treadmill, a really fancy one! It’s kinda like during the physical where the floor moved as I ran, only this one you stay in one place.” She jumped onto the treadmill and began searching for the on switch. “Hopefully its batteries aren’t dead...”

She ran her fingers over the console and Xant heard an audible ‘click’, then watched as the black glass lit up.

“Huzzah!” Jasmine exclaimed, then followed it up with a disappointed, “Hrrrrnnn...”

“Is there a problem?” Xant asked.

“Not a huge one,” she replied, finger hovering over the light display “but the language settings are in Portuguese, so, it’s going to take me a minute.”

To Xant, the human alphabet looked exactly the same as what she would normally be able to ‘read’, he even recognised several of the more common symbols.

“Is this the same as the ‘Latin’ or French?”

“French. Portuguese is even more removed from English, but similar to Spanish, which are both European, so…I can kinda muddle my way through.” She began tapping menus and opening and closing screens, blindly, yet making some progress.

Xant watched her problem-solving skills at work. While she couldn’t ‘read’ the menus, there were still intuitive and universal ‘accept’ and ‘decline’ symbols that were mostly getting her through.

“We need to find the settings, then system, then find where they’re hiding the language options-- ah ha! Ingles indeed!” As Jasmine activated the setting, Xant watched as the characters rearranged themselves and the little dots and dashes disappeared. She turned to Xant, proud of herself.

“Now then, do you want a demonstration, or just to jump right into it?” she was clearly excited to show them more human tech, having gotten a small bit of her world back had breathed new life into her.

“After your display of ingenuity, I trust you can configure the machine for me.” he mused.

“...Was that sarcasm?” she narrowed her eyes smirking.

“I don’t know, was it?” Xant sassed back, moving to take up Jasmine’s former position. The human jumped on the outside and began setting the menu.

“The treadmill’s going to start moving slowly, so just one foot in front of the other, and then we can increase the speed when you’re ready.”

“And this will expand my muscles?”

“Well, it’ll strengthen your cardiovascular system, which will help build muscles in the long run.” she extrapolated, resting her chin on her hands.

“Like the captain’s?” Xant looked pointed over to the hulking Sulin, who was happily watching from his makeshift lean-to.

Jasmine shook her head. “Nah, if you want to bulk up like the captain, you’ll need to do weights.” She picked up a small barbell and began showing Xant how it contracted and expanded her bicep. “Do this enough times and eat more protein and you might be as big as the captain’s thigh!”

Rynard chuckled and picked his teeth.

“And all humans do this? What for?” he wondered.

“Well, to stay fit, to be healthy, for recreation or sport, there’s loads of different ways and reasons.” Jasmine listed.

Rynard snorted. “You do this for fun?”

Jasmine continued her reps. “Some do. Why, what do you do for fun?”

“Me? I like my down time, laying down and listening to the battle reports and hunt results.” Rynard answered wistfully, he missed his quiet rest quarters.

“Huh, really? That’s strangely relatable.”

“Not all concepts are completely alien,” Xant interjected. “Communication is one of the oldest forms of entertainment. If it weren’t the case, I doubt we’d be so interested in talking to each other about increased hauling capabilities.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes.

“Careful there, smart-ass, I control the speed at which you run.”

“Ah, but you are also honour bound to care for my wellbeing, namegiver. Your threats are naught but jest!” Xant shot back, gaining more confidence in his ‘casual’ speech.

Jasmine smirked and slid her finger across the treadmill. The speed increased, but not so much Xant couldn’t keep up with it.

“You’re lucky you’re funny!” Jasmine put down the weight and sat on a chair by the precariously leaning Rynard. “So, hunts? What are those?”

Rynard’s smile grew wider, happy to be the expert in a topic for once.

“They’re activities that require keen senses of speed and skill. The objective is to chase down your opponent and decommission them before they’re able to do the same to you.” he slammed a fist into an open palm, laughing to himself, “Retired rangers who still need the thrill of the kill join leagues and the victories are recorded. Commentary is great when they get into the gory details, like who made it out with their tails still attached and their jaws intact.”

Jasmine gulped at the description, it sounded like a gladiatorial match.

“Do, do competitors die in these ‘Hunts’?”

“Nah, bad for business if they did,” Rynard chuckled “couple of hours in a medipod and their back on the field,”

“Phew…”Jasmine sighed, sounded like their version of extreme sports, mma mixed with hide and seek, “Is that all you listen to?”

“Well, there’s a lot of leagues, inner planets, corp networks, championships... Throw battle reports into the mix and I ain’t got the time to listen to much else.”

“Battle reports, like war correspondence?”

“Eh, not quite.” Rynard picked his teeth, and his tail joined his hands in explaining. “Mostly the ‘war’ is over, we’re not under constant threat like the Painful Dynasty any more. There’s pockets of Rajava cells here and there, but mostly the battle reports are about pirate captures and Imperial duels.”

“Wait, Imperial duels?” the human queried “like for honour?”

“Yeah, princes like the Lieutenant like to fight to ‘prove their worth’. They throw themselves into fighter ships to see who can come out on top.” Rynard shrugged. “It pays to find out who’s got the biggest boasting chops. Imperial space is a lot more chaotic than Council space, territory lines are forever shiften’. Some of the battle reports get really boring if one prince takes out too many others in quick succession, the commentators get really foot-kissy, they love them some over-achievers. But then those princes get bonded, become primarchs and taken out of the fight so the smaller skirmishes can start up again.”

“Huh, that’s pretty cool.” Jasmine nodded along, It was interesting listening to Rynard talk about something he was passionate about. He was normally happy to stand back and let Xant do all the talking, but even this small example helped her to understand more and more about the world outside the carefully curated rooms she’d been exposed to. “Xant, what do you listen to in your downtime?”

“Well, much like the captain, my interests revolve around my field of study. I prefer to listen to the reclamation reports of new/old tech, and occasionally listen to an Arvas amphitheatre performance.” Xant replied between breaths, still trudging along on the treadmill.

Rynard snorted. “Of course you’d be into that.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Do you not listen to Chik and Tah? Or have you not watched ‘What Can Go Wrong Now?” Xant scoffed back.

“Now you see that’s different,” Rynard replied, unusually animated. “I’ve seen every ‘What Can Go Wrong Now?’ episode, especially the ones they don’t air on the civnet!” He boasted “Had an old buddy smuggle the Vidfiles for me when I retired.”

“Really? How did you keep them from administrat-- oh, of course, you were head of security…” Xant shook his head at his own answer.

“And boy, if you haven’t seen them, they’re impactful!”

“More impactful than the elbow poppers?”

“Try eye poppers and thorax splatters! In zero gravity!” Rynard described with glee while Jasmine squirmed at the thought.

“What are you guys talking about?” she interrupted, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

“‘What Could Go Wrong?’ It’s Arvas theater performance, much like the vids you showed us.” Xant answered.

“Yeah but, my vids were accidents, what you’re describing sounds like getting hurt on purpose…but like, waaay more gruesome.” she pulled out her phone, holding it absently for comfort.

“Is that not entertainment on Earth?” Xant questioned, ears wobbling in his suit.

“Well it is, and it isn’t?” She ran her hand behind her ear, trying to find the right words “Like, guys will purposely drive a hammer into their junk but, eye popping sounds a little extreme. And permanent.”

“Why would it be extreme?” Xant’s curious voice hit Jasmine hard, the alieness creeping back in.

“...Wouldn’t it hurt?” concern waved in her voice, the hunts, the duels, the violent entertainment, it was all starting to scare her.

Rynard shrugged. “Nah, not really,”

“Seriously? Popping out someone's eye or ripping off their jaw doesn’t hurt?!” Jasmine snapped incredulously. Rynard pulled himself off the wall and crouched down to face her.

“Doesn’t hurt at all!” he stated and without any sort of warning, Rynard grabbed a finger and ripped it off his hand. “See?”

Jasmine screamed as blue blood splattered from the wound and hit her in the face.

Xant jumped off the treadmill to run to her side as confusion and fear gripped the human.

Rynard was stunned into silence and Xant comforted Jasmine out of her shock.

“What the fuck, Rynard!” she shouted, colour drained from her complexion, desperately wiping off the blood when she came too.

“It’s alright, Jasmine…” Xant quickly put himself between her and Rynard, blocking her view of the detached limb. “The captain doesn’t have pain nerves like you, he can genuinely not feel a thing.” Xant watched as Jasmine held her hand, imagining the pain. “We can reattach the finger, it happens all the time to Rangers. I’m sure he has survived much more debilitating wounds.” He comforted her,

“Yeah,” Rynard agreed, suddenly feeling very guilty. “I’ve had almost every limb replaced at least once, my right arm more than a dozen times.” He tried putting the finger back on the hand, but knew it was pointless. “Aren’t your military units built the same?”

Jasmine shook her head.

“No, definitely not.”

She squeezed her own hand even tighter, imagining the pain of her own finger being ripped off, and looked up at Rynard’s. The bleeding had stopped, the break was clean, and Xant’s words echoed in her memory.

Created in a vat, designed for a purpose, Rynard’s body was engineered to be torn apart with minimal damage to the rest. Designed to be broken and used up. Humans were not the same, they could not treat their bodies as interchangeable parts in a machine, they did not rip each other apart for the purpose of entertainment, to be put back together over and over again.

They were not created to be expendable.

Nobody should be.