Titan's Claw

Dear Editors:

While I certainly enjoy the insightful and moving pieces broadcast by your publication (and have been a loyal subscriber for seven Earth years!) I feel compelled to suggest the real reason you all have so much trouble in the universe...

Humans are a bunch of idiots. That's your problem right there.

Par example: not too long ago, I saw a ship out near the asteroid belt, with all kinds of damage, including a hole in its hull, which was leaking atmosphere. Since it was tumbling towards a nasty stretch of space, I did the neighbourly thing and wrapped myself around it. I can do that, being a "massive spacefaring semi-organic entity"; or, colloquially, the Titan's Claw. 

And this is what I'm talking about: "Titan's Claw." OK, sure, I'm huge and shaped in a gnarly fashion... but you know what? Why not "Benevolent Space Banana"? Did anyone consider my feelings before slapping hurtful labels on me? No! And yet there I was, trying to save lives.

Knowing a few things about human physiology, I knew the first order of business was to keep the ship from losing all its oxygen. To that end, I began generating a human-friendly atmosphere within myself, so the crew could hop outside, take a look at the damage, and fix it up without worrying about suits and such. "Find little efficiencies to save the day," as you so brilliantly put it (Issue #233, "Secrets of Successful Captains").

"We have to do something," is what these humans reported to each other, which I could hear through the hole in the hull. "We're being attacked by the Titan's Claw..."

Attacked? Really? I was tempted to just poop them right back into space and let them asphyxiate... but then... I remembered they'd been through a traumatic experience, and I hadn't communicated my intent very well. "Communication is the backbone of a successful enterprise." Fair enough. I forced my sub-arachnoid cortex to transmit something resembling radio waves, and (painfully) constructed two messages:

"Call for help," was the first one, which frankly winded me, followed by: "If you can."

In retrospect, that was perhaps not the best phrasing.

Anyway, it got them moving. Lt Casey and Ensign Kwan suited up — totally unnecessarily, I might add — and went outside to check their long-range communications array, which was, luckily, right next to the hole I was so worried about. 

Did they patch it? No, they ran back inside and told everyone I broke the antenna. Me! 

Worse yet, one of their nutbar colleagues started blubbering about how I'd convinced him to "cleanse the ship", which apparently meant "kill everyone onboard". And because the surviving crew were a bunch of halfwits, they spent the rest of their short lives trying to find a way to shield themselves from my "psychic emissions." I suppose it was easier than accepting they hired a serial killer, but honestly! Casey sounded like a smart lady, until she got stabbed through the heart while trying to divert power to a makeshift Faraday shield. I mean, it was great idea, but it wouldn't do much good with a hole in the hull!

Not too long after, Kwan and Lt Loopy-pants stumbled outside, swatting each other like angry invertebrates. Kwan broke off a piece of the communications array and cracked the psychopath's helmet open... but of course he didn't die, on account of there being oxygen.

By that point, you would think it would have been pretty clear I'd created a breathable atmosphere for them, right? 

No. Kwan looked at the hole (the hole!) and said: "The Titan's Claw has been poisoning us!"

Seriously?

Kwan found her inner barbarian and beat the ever-living tar out of her opponent. She must also be a subscriber, because I took note of the Glove Lock Block (Issue #412, "10 Easy Spacesuit Moves That Might Save Your Life"). But right before she finished him off, she paused to make an impassioned appeal to his humanity. 

Look, I'm a massive sentient space banana with an overactive sense of empathy, and even I could tell that wasn't a great idea.

Of course he pretended to have a change of heart, and of course he wanted to hug it out. If I had any means of auditory communication, I would have been screaming. 

They hugged, the killer went to stab her in the back... and hit her oxygen tank instead. Kwan freaked out, ended up spearing him on a jagged shard of metal, and scrambled back onboard. She went straight for the engine room, whereupon it started getting dangerously hot. Like "why did I wrap myself around this thing?" hot.

"I may not survive," said Kwan, "but I swear you will not harm another soul!"

That's when I realized she was trying to make the ship explode.

I was, honestly, flabbergasted. I'd been more than patient with this crew of spunky up-and-comers. I'd tried to help them, gone above and beyond to keep them comfortable and safe, and yet here they were, trying to blow me up. Any reasonable massive spacefaring semi-organic entity would've squashed them and moved on.

But not me. No, not me.

"Wait," I sent, with great difficulty.

The engines continued to overheat. I wasn't sure how much more they could take, or even Kwan was even still alive.

"What?" she said, finally, aloud. "What are you after? Why are you doing this to us? Why won't you just leave us alone?" I heard her crying. "What do you want?" she yelled.

"Fix fucking hole," I sent.

"Oh," she said, and smashed the engine controller (Issue #57, "Secrets of a Chief Engineer") thereby averting disaster.

Suffice to say, Kwan patched the hull without saying a word. I gently deposited her back into space, a safe distance away from any obstacles, and got the hell out of there.

So that's my story. I think it's pretty clear that I'm the good guy in this scenario. I mean, OK, I left her in deep space with no engine control and minimal life support, but there's only so much I can do! I simply find it bad form that nobody entered anything in the ship's log after: "We're being attacked by the Titan's Claw." That's the kind of thing that perpetuates prejudice, is what it is. 

No wonder I keep getting chased by warships.

Which brings me to my point: humans, please stop with the warships. I hate having to destroy them all the time.

Yours most sincerely,

Benevolent Space Banana (AKA the Titan's Claw)