Tag: zoology

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I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.

They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.

Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).

By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.

You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.

The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.

“Hippopotamus.”

This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned 

Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”

And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.

But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.

Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.

You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.

The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.

You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.

It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.

Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.

When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.

“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.

One word: Moose

“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”

BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!

“That’s called a moose.”

Wolverines.

Also.. dolphins.

The invasion is going slowly. The humans have caught on and are actively destroying information on the planet’s flora and fauna before Intelligence can capture and process it. All that they have are survivors’ accounts. Bears. Hippos. Badgers. Moose. It is becoming obvious this mudball planet is a full-on Death World to the unprepared, and you are so very unprepared.

You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai’kor. Commander Vura’ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…

When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.

And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.

Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.

“The humans did say it was “grape” juice that removed “skunk” stench, right?“

Every night. 

It came for someone almost every night. 

Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight.  They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved.  Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again. 

What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror.  Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather.  It had fangs as long as his grasping digits.  Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity.  And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.

Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it. 

The earth natives called the monster a leopard.  

It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge.  Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster. 

But rumor was that there was worse on this planet.  Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.

A sound that burst eardrums, paralyzed entire units, and let the monster kill with impunity.  While the Leopard wrestled soldiers down and ripped their throats out.  This other monster, the Tiger, killed with its pounce alone.

“We’ve been through this,” Group Leader 455 snapped.  “The dissection of an Earth life form will help the scientists make weapons to combat the rest of this planet’s hellbeasts.  And these are domesticated.  Harmless.”

The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent.  “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.”  Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.

More not-quite-looking.  455 bubbled a sigh and consulted her scanner.  “That one,” she decided.  “Alone in the separate pasture.  Scans suggest that it’s a male, which means it’s probably weaker.  Possibly it’s kept isolated so that the females don’t eat it before mating season.  And yes, I know some of you are here on punishment detail, but you’re still soldiers of the Imperium.  This squad is perfectly capable of handling a lone, helpless, pathetic male cow.”

I’m enjoying this immensely. Wait until the aliens try Australia for size…

It was a strange creature Tar’van glimpsed at on the vast island known to the humans as ‘Australia’.

“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar’van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.

The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar’van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.

Another moment Tar’van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’

“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”

Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar’van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.

The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.

“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar’van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.

“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar’van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”

The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.

“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.

“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.

Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar’van is the squads leader now.

“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”

Tar’van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar’van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.

“Please,” Tar’van bags. “Get us back safely.”

@kryallaorchid, you guys really lost a war to emus?  Why was it necessary?

oh, mate, you never mess with the emus.

(Jesus christ. Dont get us started on kangaroos)

They had faced Emu’s. They had lost one in the battle but had experienced them. But this was no emu.

Looking to their guide, they all stare in horror as his face changes from calculating to fear. Pure, heart consuming horror as he stares at the large bird.
“Cassowary…”
They mimic him in fear. Squawking the horrific name as another joins the first in the mad run towards them.

The only ones to survive was the native guide and Tar’van. The guide was carrying the soldier over his shoulder as they made their way back to the settlement.
Tar’van was a wreck. Periodically alternating between rocking in complete silence and whispering broken words in horror.
When they consulted the native all he said was “Its spring…. Magpie season…”

“Listen up, troops. This armour upgrade has been tested both in the laboratories of the best Imperial military scientists and in the field. We are impervious to the stings of any insect on this hellhole of a planet, striped or not! We can brave the perils of its wildlife, and conquer it at long last! Revenge for our fallen companions! Glory to the Emperor!”

“Excuse me,” the native Terran guide speaks up in a tired tone, and the squad’s cheers die on their lips. “This is Japan. You haven’t seen what–”

“Silence, worm! No sting can penetrate this plating!”

The guide tries to warn them once again, merely earning a blow that throws them to their knees. The troops set out, morale high, certain in their ability to brave the wildlife now and thirsting for vengeance against the non-sentient native species. One soldier thumps his fist against a tree. A hollow sound follows.

In an instant, the soldier is the centre of a storm of the striped insects. At first, no one pays it any mind. Their little stings cannot penetrate the new plating, after all.

But then the soldier falls to his knees, and the squad stares in horror as the insects enclose him in layer upon layer of their own bodies, all moving. The squad’s medic yells a warning at everyone to stay back, watching the readouts of the unfortunate soldier’s armour on their diagnostic screen with undisguised horror. The insects aren’t even stinging. They simply keep moving, one atop the other, and the soldier’s body temperature is slowly rising until he drops to the ground, quite literally cooked alive. The insect swarm takes off, unharmed save for the ones that were crushed when the trooper fell.

Finally asked about what happened, the human sighs. “Japanese honeybees. They do this to wasps, too.”

“How?” You ask. “How has your species dominated this planet?” 

The human bares its teeth. A smile, they call it. Something humans do when they are happy. Yet you can’t help but think of all the creatures with the their large fangs and sharp teeth. (What kind of species uses a threat signal as a sign of happiness?)

“Persistence and ingenuity.” The human answers, still smiling. 

It doesn’t matter that this one is your prisoner. Humans, you decide, are as terrifying as their planet.  

“And scattered about it … were the Martians–dead!–slain by the putrefactive and disease bacteria against which their systems were unprepared; slain as the red weed was being slain; slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, had put upon this earth.” 

– HG Wells, The War of the Worlds,1898

I’m picturing aliens going up against a hoard of Canadian geese, or a swan.

I think at that point they’d just give up.

Or fire ants

No one even MENTIONED snakes yet…

This thing gets better EVERY FUCKING TIME I SEE IT.

“Let us try the creatures that the humans keep for domestic companionship”

“Is that a miniature tiger?”

“Why does this human own a small pack of wolves?”

The aliens ask their human captive why small wolves live with them. 

“Oh, you mean dogs? Yeah, they’re the only animals that can keep up with us.”

The aliens look at each other in fear. “What do you mean?”

“Oh well that’s why you guys ‘won’ is because humans aren’t super fast or strong. I think my middle school biology teacher called us pursuit predators? It means we evolved to hunt things by following them at walking pace until they had to stop to sleep and then catching up to them then. Dogs are the only animals that can keep up with us. Did you know one time a pack of wolves tailed a herd of caribou for three days straight?”

“Uh… okay, what about these small round things with big teeth?”

“Omg dude no if you give a hamster enought time that little fucker can chew through concrete :)”

The aliens wonder if the surrender of humanity was a trap.

Somebody do sharks or sea creatures next. Giant squids would wreak havoc on their ships.

The aliens have sophisticated technology which pretty much allows them to live underwater, which is something even the inventive humans have never managed. Submarines have nothing on alien submersion pods, which can withstand the crushing pressures of even the darkest depths of the oceans and seas. 

The aliens aren’t expecting any difficulties with their underwater expeditions. Of course, that’s when four of the life signs on the central screen simply vanish, like they’d never been there. 

Alpha turns on the direct communication lines to the remaining submersion pods, and the only thing they hear through the tinny speakers is screaming. 

Alpha resists the urge to turn and stare at the shackled human standing behind them, but Beta, Gamma and Theta have no such compunctions. 

The human shrugs. “I mean, we’ve never really been down there so we’re not entire sure, but we’ve heard stories of giant squids and stuff. No smoke without fire, and all that.” 

“There can be neither smoke nor fire underwater, human, cease your prattling.” 

The human snorts. “It’s a phrase. A metaphor? Man, I don’t know, I studied marine biology, not literature.” 

The human is unable to tell them anything useful about what might have happened to the submersion pods, but retrieved footage later shows tentacled behemoths snaking out of the depths of disturbed silt and cold water, and crushing the submersion pods effortlessly, in full view of the outer-hull cameras. The monsters have giant beaks which rip through the organic alloy sheets, and into the bodies of the pod pilots within. 

The outer-hull cameras register the blue of fresh spilled blood and gore, at the same time the on-board cameras register screaming and the red glow of critical power failure. 

The last thing the aliens can see on the retrieved footage is thin, long, snakelike creatures appearing out of the darkness and gloom, creating their own light and descending upon the remains of their brethren. They are accompanied by creatures that look like plastic bags, but which feed upon the toxic remains of the organic alloy of which the pods were made.

The human appears completely nonchalant – there is no love lost between slave and master. “Wait till you see sharks.” 

I’ve seen this post go around a few times, but this time I have some thoughts:
1) This is more or less the plot of Animorphs.

2) Earth has Poison Dart Frogs, we’re clearly a Death World.

3) I’m now imagining them deciding to set up a base on the poles, because life on this planet is clearly dependant on plants. So, that frozen wasteland should be safe of any dangerous megafauna.
Cue Polar Bear out of nowhere.

@phantom-ryker

This is my favorite post.

Alright, so the deep reaches of the sea are apparently filled with every creature the Universal Creator found too horrible to put anywhere else.  Your crew opts to set base in the shallower reaches, where you enjoy the incredibly colorful, presumably poisonous creatures inhabiting what your captive calls a “coral reef”.

Then something blocks the light.  It’s another fish, but this one isn’t colorful.

Or small.

It’s eyes are dead, and it just floats through the water like a ghost.  You watch the giant monster float gently towards a group of fish. Then it suddenly jets forward and OH MY GOD THAT’S A LOT OF TEETH WHY IS IT THRASHING OH GOD THAT’S A LOT OF BLOOD.

You demand to know what that monster from the deepest pits of Raknor is.  Your human captive smirks at you.  “Great white shark.  Those are man-eaters.”

“Are all of these ‘great white sharks’ so large?”

“Nah, that was just a little one, can’t be more than ten feet.  Great Whites can get up to twice that long.  We think there might be a type of shark over sixty feet long left over from prehistoric times, but we don’t have proof of that yet.”

You decide it may be time to relocate to a different biome.  Perhaps the icy deserts of the northernmost sector of Terra Firma.  There’s no way any of these primitive creatures can survive in that sort of climate.

High Commodore K’forn, responsible for so many victories of the Inter-Universal Federation Agency, stands outside the holding area of a brave soldier assigned to… that goddamned wet rock. Barely a koin ago he had been one of the bravest up-and-coming recruits he met at a routine examination of the new trainees; he was certain that young Zodeel would do so many great things for the IUFA.

He now sits huddled in the corner of his cell, rocking back and forth and twitching.

“We can’t get anything out of him,” The medical officer at his side stated. “We’ve tried everything, and he never gives us anything coherent. In fact, no reactions at all. Except…”

K’forn turned to them as they trailed off. “Except?”

“…Whenever we serve him any protein rations, he just… screams. Actually, it’s any food with a red color, in general.” 

Protein rations ARE red, but why would that scare him so badly?

“We were hoping,” the Medic continued demurely, “That perhaps – since he looked up to you so deeply – you might just be able to help?”

“…Open the door. I’ll speak to him.” Were he capable of such an inferior human expression, K’forn would have sighed. He’d dealt with recruits who had snapped before. He had experience.

---

After the keypad finished beeping and the pressure-locks opened, K’forn stepped in, going through the usual motions. He kneeled in front of the young recruit and attempted to get anything coherent out of him. Much to the relief of the medic, he actually looked up, seemingly recognizing his voice.

Then he asked what happened.

Zodeel spoke in hushed whispers, describing the incident. They were taking refuge in an abandoned livestock center, one with a bright red color (he choked the color out). There were still some of the “cows” there, but they were behind fences and seemingly paid them no mind. Zodeel’s squadron had an entirely new problem: They were running dangerously low on food rations. One of the more adventurous ones suggested that they eat one of the cows; he had seen the humans do it. Their human guide – an expert on the insectoid life forms of the planet, at the insistence of their Commanding Officer after the “Silkworm Incident” – suggested they cook it first, but they laughed; they didn’t have some weak stomach system, they could handle raw meat. Only Zodeel, treacherously suspicious of any unknown danger, decided to let his hunger gnaw at his stomach before he went along with his partners.

When he woke up the next night, it was as if all of his team had lost their mind. They threw themselves at the feet of the cows, trying to get them to devour them. No matter what he or the human guide did, they could not get them to stop, or eat, or do anything else at all. They only ceased during the day, squatting inside the barn as if hiding from the sunlight. The cows, herbivores, refused, but occasionally attacked and killed them. None of them lasted longer than half a koin.

He couldn’t forget their empty blank stares. He couldn’t forget the awful red color of that raw meat that they had eaten. He couldn’t forget how their black blood splashed across the open fields.

The last thing he remembered before becoming utterly incoherent was the human guide telling him what had happened.

“Liver fluke. Worm. Dicrocoelium dendriticum. They take over the minds of ants, and force them to get eaten by cows. They can only breed in their intestines.”

---

Once K’forn was finished evacuating his latest meal in the waste release facility, he returned to the Medic. 

“From now on, none of the platoons are allowed to eat anything that comes from that planet unless it’s been burnt to a crisp and thoroughly liquefied.”

First it was only small, ratlike creatures that flew through the night. The human prisoners made an extra effort to maintain cover while they slept, though the rest of the troops followed suit due to the incessant high-pitched squeaking they made all night long. When questioned the humans said they were bats hunting for bugs to eat that they can’t see.

Such infuriating little pests, but at least they seemed harmless.

We were wrong.

After some days, several members of our platoon started displaying symptoms of a simple fever and went to the medbay to receive medication and take a few tests. These soldiers complained of aches in their joints and a strange tingling in their extremities, which isn’t terribly unusual for our species, but given the hostile nature of this planet it is best to be cautious.

We did not anticipate the violent spread.

Those infected returned to work as usual, but they changed. They grew anxious, more anxious than soldiers on watch for moose. One would think leopards and tigers were swarming our encampment from their demeanor. It all came to a head some weeks later, when one snapped at his fellow soldier and attacked.

Both were bloody and bruised, but the healthy one seemed otherwise unharmed.

Now they’re everywhere, and while we can shoot them, it is nothing if we don’t kill them quickly, before they can touch us with their infected fluids. Some humans managed to escape, shouting something about how it was the bats. I could not pursue, as we barricaded ourselves in the storeroom of the ship to prevent any of our once-fellow soldiers from attacking. Their bodies twitch as though they are constantly electrocuted and they fear water, but we are not near enough to a river to make use of that. They salivate constantly, but that is their most dangerous weapon.

One of our soldiers is complaining of a fever and fatigue. I know not the name of this disease, but the last human said all infected will go rabid if left untreated. It was unsurprising when he asked for a mercy kill only an hour after being scratched by an infected soldier. After all, we stopped production of human medications to encourage their swift surrender. There is no treating this sickness.

We must kill all vestiges of this disease before it kills us as well.

Beware the bats.

Captain Xthon signing off.

Log entry #573. Date: Unknown.

Ytterion was a fearless leader of a large crew, preparing all he could against the smallest creatures and the largest. Of course, they would have to fear the smallest the most, always keep an eye on their steps and never be unwary of the air. Simple forests near human “neighborhoods” were safe, much more so than the buildings filled with creatures unwanted or not. Or so they thought.

After a long trek through one of said forests, the group was tired. They had been ever vigilant, allowing the human to walk on the rocky and uneven trail while they waded through the ever safer grass. It was easier to hide there, and only harmless insects such as ladybugs and grasshoppers lived there.

When they reached camp they were exhausted. Donning their protective netting and casings from the terrifying beasts of the night, they slept peacefully. When Ytterion awoke in the morning, however…he was the only one. The human was blearily awake, snorting at Ytterion’s arrival.

“Damn, didn’t get you too, huh?” he asked, munching on stolen rations.

Ytterion’s throat caught. All of their crewmates still lay in their beds, but there was something… unusual about their sleep. They shook the others, but none of them awoke. Some clutched their skulls. Others dripped with sweat. More shook uncontrollably, even though it was a hot cycle. Ytterion turned on the human.

“What in Zyydzying did you do to them?” They shrieked. The human gave an innocent glance.

“Me? I’m just tied up here going about my daily business of absolutely nothing,” he rebutted. Ytterion was panicking. With their comm having been destroyed by “Squirrels”, there was no way they could find help. “Oh, woops, look like you got bit too,” the human commented. Ytterion glanced at the limb the human pointed to. A tiny speck was present, looking more like a flake of dirt. They grasped the miniscule thing and pulled it off, bringing it up to one of their massive eyes. The human hissed in disgust.

“Aw, ewwww, dude…” they said. “You just made it, like, so much worse”

“What is this thing??” Ytterion asked.

“Uhh, that’s a tick,” the human said. “Surprised it took this long for you all to get bitten. Ah, anyways, I guess I better head out.” The human sighed and got up, stretching and doing a quick examination of themself.

“I’m not going to let you just walk out of here-” Ytterion suddenly doubled over in pain, internal organs screaming at them. The human gave them a pity pat on the back.

“I feel really bad for this… but, uh, if it’s any consolation, it should wear off in a bit?”

When others finally found Ytterion and their crew, the human was gone. The crew bore marks of the cruel torture inflicted upon them. For eons, the aliens remembered the name of the strange magic that was nearly impossible to detect or remove. It was whispered in terror; Lyme Disease.