This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Speedhump23 on 2024-12-25 23:50:29+00:00.
After some struggle, the humans have deep space travel capabilities.
They have spent the next 100 years exploring the galaxy.
Other races they contact are amazed that they have made it to them, maybe one in one thousand races make it to deep space.
Space is dangerous, things are out in the void that can kill ships.
The humans always smile and pat their pocket AIs whenever asked how they did it.
Captain Flex- Ress of the human DSF- Coleambally (deep space freighter) had just landed on Proxima b, and was talking to the owner of the capital city’s largest airfield, while waiting for the planet’s leading council to arrive.
Pox b’s leaders had been communicating with the Terrans ever since the Coleambally had made orbit, while the Terran ship waited permission to land. Trade would be a major aspect, but the primary mission of this trip was to help the inhabitant of Proxima b to get into space. The leadership of Proxima b were having trouble understanding why anyone would be so “nice to them”.
As with most planet locked races, the Prox’ bs had run into the same list of issues that kept most other races planet locked. Once they got rockets to actually get into space, they hit issue after issue, and had trouble combating them before dying. From the green Xenomorph “Gremlins” who floated through space, and attached themselves to ships. While mostly harmless, in great numbers, they would block view ports, engine exhausts etc. To the long dead xenophobic “Builders”, an advanced race which had made it to space, only to be the most xenophobic beings in the galaxy. Their robot ships were nicknamed the “Berserkers” by the Terrans (For some ancient reason), and tended to try to wipe any new races they encountered. Luckily for the Porxies, the Berserker ship that had just entered the system had been there at the same time as the Terrain merchant fleet. The Berserker likely did not even get a message off that it was under attack, before it was dead. The Terran missile systems had the range and stealth abilities to take our a berserker before it even knew it was under fire. When asked about the extraordinary missiles launched by the Merchants (Which seemed like a battleship weapon, not a trader’s one) Flex-Ress just patted his pocket AI and mentioned “Ghost riders”.
Over the next hundred years, the Proxima b society was carefully and helpfully raised to an equal technical level to that of the Terran alliance. Any time an issue arose which looked set to crush their advancement, the Terrans would offer a few solutions already set out and easy to follow and implement. At no time did the Terrain alliance enforce or impose any of the fixes, neither did they charge for the information. After the Proxima b society finally got to an equal footing to that of the Terrans, the head of the Alliance contacted the leading council of “Homeworld” (The local name for Proxima, now that they were spread out on a few planets in nearby systems) and offered them full and equal access to the “secret” to their success.
Proxima b had an entertainment industry, they had artists, musicians and story writers. The stories tended to deal with issues on the planet, such as building houses in the great flowing sand lands, their music on how to find love when the moon was hidden by clouds… but they had nothing as detailed or imaginative as that of the Terran race. It seemed that everything that any race would ever encounter on their home world, or in the struggle to reach space, even anything needed to emerge victorious in battle, the Terrans had written numerous stories about it. They did not stop there though, each story had then been analysed, then students studied them, and even in depth “fan fics” (An old Earth word for some sort of learned thesis) on the subjects, were written. The stories had been dissected and analysed to the point where the answers to meet any possible issues had been worked out well in advance. The system was not stagnant though, with new stories and studies being added on almost a daily basis.
The Pocket AIs carried by all humans had this information ready at a moment’s notice. The analysis of a thousand generations, experts in fields many people did not even know they needed, was ready to help. From how to deal with the pesky “Green Gremlins”, such as using electrified hulls which repel them when they try to latch on to the ship. (An idea credited to something called “Churchill’s Statue”), to things to look out for when landing a ship on an asteroid (Such as “Do not land inside a cave on an asteroid, before you check it is not alive.”)
The council of Proxima b were amazed at the concept of this guide, and were very grateful to be given access to them on top of all the other help they had received. The news that they could add their own stories and learnt lessons to the network was also appreciated.
Looking at his new AI, councilmen Hert looked at the plastic container for the guide and asked a question... “Why does it have “Don’t Panic” on the cover?”