In which the Potatoes gid gud.


    There had never been any confusion regarding the Potatoes and their status as their own “group”. Since the moment they were found, everyone knew they had bonded to each other in one way or another, like coworkers, friends, family, teammates, fellow sapients, lovers…You name it. They were together and that was it.


    Even so, that feeling was casual -so to speak- as every crew member of the Starbinder (plus all scientists assigned to the mission) also felt they could easily assimilate a Potato into their own group if they just reached out a claw. (And boy did they reach a claw at every turn.)


    But now, that feeling was definitive, as that morning the Potatoes entered the test room powerwalking as a unit with their new symbol, The Potato, emblazoned in their white jumpsuits with black sharpie, their identities scribbled on their chests for the world to see.


    CECIL POTATO NOODLE. Read the ruby-red Jornissian’s.


    PAUL POTATO FEATHERS. Read the emerald-green Karnakian’s.


    ALISTAIR POTATO KIBBLES. Read the silver-blue Dorarizin’s.


    History would later know these were not their original names, as the Potatoes had only adopted these fusion of identities to prevent the last bastion of their humanity from eroding into oblivion. But, for the xeno crew of Research Station #DX192 Titanic MCMLIV, these names would become synonym with a new culture, as they witnessed the “lost savages” begin their daily training with a sudden passionate and intensive coordination of militaristic might.


    “A WISE OLD TREE ONCE SAID TO ME.” Said Paul Feathers, marking the pace of the treadmill march, his squadmates repeating after him, and all three using sign language so they would be on par with their mute Dorarizin friend. “TO ROOT MY FEET IF I WANNA BE FREE.”


    “HE TOLD ME “SON, LIFE’S NEVER DONE”.” Their previous runs always ended at the 100mi goal and then they would take a break as the scientists did their thing. “YOU KEEP THE FIGHT ‘TILL THE DAY YOU’RE GONE.” From now on, they decided to skip the breaks and go straight to the next exercise, focusing primarily on maintaining rhythm of body and breath.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    “ONE TWO, ONE TWO.” The three fought against their limits, keeping their synchronization as best they could as they worked their core, back and top in reps. “HOLD YOUR GROUND WITH NAIL AND TOOTH.” But, the heaviest part was ninjutsuing their chant at the same time, as it forced their hands and arms to add extra stability to their effort (if not outright make it nigh impossible to do). “THREE FOUR, THREE FOUR.” Of course, this made the whole affair a circus show of garbled nonsense to anyone reading the sign language, as only Alistair Kibbles was good enough to pull a reasonable (and brief) expression in the nick of time. “TAKE THE PAIN THEN ASK FOR MORE.”


    “This is insane.” Collectively thought the xeno crew of #DX192, as the Potato Crew ignored their every warning and kept at their new delusion on their own.


    And they were right.


    Their exercise was good enough as it was before, it didn’t need added complications and difficulties to yield results. Hell, it didn’t even need to be done every week to keep them in good shape. The average xeno could remain physically fit by doing the bare minimun of exercise because their cultures already accounted for it in their many habits and customs. Much like earth animals remain fit when they just follow and succeed in their own natural endeavours.


    But, that’s xeno perspective, ya know?


    Here’s the thing. The Potatoes were not upgrading their routine just for kicks, they were working on upgrading their physical power and their teamwork by gauging their prowess against themselves and what they all had to offer, because in their little human minds (stretched to xeno size), they were still scared of their neighbours, even though they had grown somewhat used to their presence and their eager friendliness.


    Picture it like this: a dog is always weary of a strange dog, even if they are the same size, because their fear doesn’t come from the unknown but from the known, i.e. the fact they are both capable of the same level of danger.


    The Potatoes as humans knew that xenos could be dangerous apex predators. The Potatoes as xenos knew for certain that xenos were dangerous apex predators, for they could be dangerous apex predators now.


    So it was now an arms race to see who would be the next Top Dog.


    “[Aww, ain’t them cute.]” Said a Dorarizin security officer as she witnessed the video feed of the Potato Boot Camp.


    “[Ye. I give them a week, though.]” Said a Karnakian officer at her side, chuckling.


    A third officer, a Jornissian, just quietly looked at the funny civilians playing toy soldiers. As trained xenos themselves, they had never been too impressed by the Potatoes and their physical prowess, only their funny antics made them interesting. But now they were putting their foot inside their territory, and if there’s something all military personnel share across the galaxy, is that military wannabes must be given The Boot.


    “They better not keep this up.” Thought the Jornissian.