Humans are Weird - Failure
First Medic carefully straightened her datapad on the desk in front of her and dabbed at her eyes with her proboscis before responding to Second Ornithologist, a visiting First Cousin, standing in front of her work station. The off-world First Cousin was tall and hearty enough to have been a First Sister on her homeworld, with a mind that grasped every coil with speed and energy. First Medic reminded herself that their much smaller hive, was lucky to have secured Second Ornithologist and it would be both practically foolish as wells a politically stupid for a Second Sister to condensed to a cousin who was taller, older, and more massive than her.
“You want to, borrow, to call out of his own garden, my hive’s First Grandfather for morale purposes?” First Medic said, forcing her voice into non-judgmental tones.
She was reasonably certain that her antenna were not expressing her affront at the concept but she couldn’t quite vouch for the color of her frill.
Second Ornithologist flicked her antenna in curt agreement as one of her hindlegs tapped the ground in an irritated gesture she should have molted out of by now even if she was just a cousin and not a sister.
“Of course an Undulate Friend, or even one of the lizard folk would be better,” Second Ornithologist clicked out, “but the psychological benefit of an experienced Grandfather is better than nothing, even if the human can’t really hug on him.”
First Medic forced her body language to remain calm as she untangled the diverse mess of affront that caused.
“Perhaps if you told me what the problem actually was,” she finally managed to suggest in tighter tones than she meant to.
Fortunately Second Ornithologist did not seem offended, only as frustrated as she was when she came in to propose this.
“My department is currently working on propagating domestic avian species,” she began.
“Yes,” First Medic said, encouraging the thought vine as Second Ornithologist seemed to be struggling a bit with where to grasp the story. “Primarily for pest control I understand. To get rid of those biting mites.”
Second Ornithologist flicked her antenna in agreement.
“This year we hatched out only twenty-four of a particular species. I was assisting but First Ornithologist did most of the work on the project. It was unfortunately, nearly a complete failure.”
“The hatchlings did not survive?” First Medic asked, genuinely curious now how this vine could possibly tie back to her First Grandfather.
He was of course a skilled gardener, but he had never handled avian species in any form.
“They all made it to nearly mature size,” Second Ornithologist said, “however they began dying of some mysterious cause one at a time. There is one left, but it is a male.”
“So you will diagnose the problem and try again next year,” First Medic pointed out.
“Of course!” Second Ornithologist snapped, her frill positively rippling with frustration. “That is what I told her! These things happen and even if she was at fault we will simply try again.”
The first faint bud of understanding began to peep out in First Medic’s awareness.
“You refer to First Ornithologist,” she said.
Second Ornithologist twitched her antenna in confirmation and her hind leg began tapping faster.
“First Ornithologist has always been emotionally stable and rational,” Second Ornithologist said. “But in this matter she has been sulking around...dragging her feet! I did not know what that phrase even meant before this incident, but she is actually dragging her feet around, making this positively frill-tightening sound, and releasing these sighs, so loud you would think they are words, but when I ask her she insists she said nothing!”
“And what do you think is causing this increase in emotional instability?”First Medic asked, actually opening a file on the incident.
This did appear to be more than a cousin’s irritability after all.
“Her First Father took her mate off world,” Second Ornithologist said, not bothering to hide the scandalized set of her antenna.
First Medic started and nearly dropped her datapad.
“But her First Father is only just transitioning to Grandfather!” she exclaimed. “And she and her mate have only been together for a year!”
“I am aware,” Second Ornithologist replied, rubbing between her antenna in an obvious attempt to loosen them up. “There is some task needing to be done on the third moon that her First Father was responsible for and her mate went as a matter of safety. I suggested that she could go with them, but she insisted that she would be ‘fine’.”
“And she is not,” First Medic said with understanding causing her frill to relax a bit. “Not with no males in her hive to comfort her after she had settled down to build her own garden.”
“Her First Mother is of course comforting her but it does not seem to prevent her from filling every space she is in with distress pheromones,” Second Ornithologist went on.
“That explains the foot,” First Medic said softly letting her antenna coil in amusement.
Second Ornithologist looked perplexed a moment, and then firmly stilled her twitching hind-leg.
“Can your hive spare a Grandfather for morale purposes?” Second Ornithologist asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her antenna.
“First Grandfather left planet with First Grandmother just yesterday,” First Medic said, shaking out her frill. However Second Grandfather is not only available but has an existing relationship with the human hives on this world. I will contact him and see if he will be willing to poke an antenna into the situation.”
“Thank you,” Second Ornithologist said somewhat stiffly.
First Medic made a note that the humans were perhaps not the only ones needing comfort in this situation.
“You want to, borrow, to call out of his own garden, my hive’s First Grandfather for morale purposes?” First Medic said, forcing her voice into non-judgmental tones.
She was reasonably certain that her antenna were not expressing her affront at the concept but she couldn’t quite vouch for the color of her frill.
Second Ornithologist flicked her antenna in curt agreement as one of her hindlegs tapped the ground in an irritated gesture she should have molted out of by now even if she was just a cousin and not a sister.
“Of course an Undulate Friend, or even one of the lizard folk would be better,” Second Ornithologist clicked out, “but the psychological benefit of an experienced Grandfather is better than nothing, even if the human can’t really hug on him.”
First Medic forced her body language to remain calm as she untangled the diverse mess of affront that caused.
“Perhaps if you told me what the problem actually was,” she finally managed to suggest in tighter tones than she meant to.
Fortunately Second Ornithologist did not seem offended, only as frustrated as she was when she came in to propose this.
“My department is currently working on propagating domestic avian species,” she began.
“Yes,” First Medic said, encouraging the thought vine as Second Ornithologist seemed to be struggling a bit with where to grasp the story. “Primarily for pest control I understand. To get rid of those biting mites.”
Second Ornithologist flicked her antenna in agreement.
“This year we hatched out only twenty-four of a particular species. I was assisting but First Ornithologist did most of the work on the project. It was unfortunately, nearly a complete failure.”
“The hatchlings did not survive?” First Medic asked, genuinely curious now how this vine could possibly tie back to her First Grandfather.
He was of course a skilled gardener, but he had never handled avian species in any form.
“They all made it to nearly mature size,” Second Ornithologist said, “however they began dying of some mysterious cause one at a time. There is one left, but it is a male.”
“So you will diagnose the problem and try again next year,” First Medic pointed out.
“Of course!” Second Ornithologist snapped, her frill positively rippling with frustration. “That is what I told her! These things happen and even if she was at fault we will simply try again.”
The first faint bud of understanding began to peep out in First Medic’s awareness.
“You refer to First Ornithologist,” she said.
Second Ornithologist twitched her antenna in confirmation and her hind leg began tapping faster.
“First Ornithologist has always been emotionally stable and rational,” Second Ornithologist said. “But in this matter she has been sulking around...dragging her feet! I did not know what that phrase even meant before this incident, but she is actually dragging her feet around, making this positively frill-tightening sound, and releasing these sighs, so loud you would think they are words, but when I ask her she insists she said nothing!”
“And what do you think is causing this increase in emotional instability?”First Medic asked, actually opening a file on the incident.
This did appear to be more than a cousin’s irritability after all.
“Her First Father took her mate off world,” Second Ornithologist said, not bothering to hide the scandalized set of her antenna.
First Medic started and nearly dropped her datapad.
“But her First Father is only just transitioning to Grandfather!” she exclaimed. “And she and her mate have only been together for a year!”
“I am aware,” Second Ornithologist replied, rubbing between her antenna in an obvious attempt to loosen them up. “There is some task needing to be done on the third moon that her First Father was responsible for and her mate went as a matter of safety. I suggested that she could go with them, but she insisted that she would be ‘fine’.”
“And she is not,” First Medic said with understanding causing her frill to relax a bit. “Not with no males in her hive to comfort her after she had settled down to build her own garden.”
“Her First Mother is of course comforting her but it does not seem to prevent her from filling every space she is in with distress pheromones,” Second Ornithologist went on.
“That explains the foot,” First Medic said softly letting her antenna coil in amusement.
Second Ornithologist looked perplexed a moment, and then firmly stilled her twitching hind-leg.
“Can your hive spare a Grandfather for morale purposes?” Second Ornithologist asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her antenna.
“First Grandfather left planet with First Grandmother just yesterday,” First Medic said, shaking out her frill. However Second Grandfather is not only available but has an existing relationship with the human hives on this world. I will contact him and see if he will be willing to poke an antenna into the situation.”
“Thank you,” Second Ornithologist said somewhat stiffly.
First Medic made a note that the humans were perhaps not the only ones needing comfort in this situation.
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