[ WP ] There 's an old adage in the galaxy about humanity : roughly translated , it means `` Never push the pink-skins to the thin ice . ''

There is a planet you must never go, though the solar wind may take you there. Should you approach its belabored yellow sun, bleaching white with age, give it a wide berth; should its terrible neighbour, the great gas giant with the red and smoky eye, loom before you, turn back at once, for past that point is danger and reckless doom. 
 
 That is the planet of the pink-skins, and all beyond it is the grey dust of ashen worlds. 
 
 The pink-skins are not like you and I. They are many in number, bipedal in form, silver-tongued and large in stature. No description describes them: no colourful epithet quaintly and succinctly defines them. They swarm, though they possess no hive; their rank is volatile and seemingly wanton, for tomorrow hunters may be leaders and leaders foragers among the dirt. 
 
 No, they are not like you and I, we beloved soldiers of the Queen. Equipped without chitin, they hurtle into bitter sleet. In the sweltering pits of desert heat, you will find them gladly mining cold instead of trenches. No sweet nectar buds from their tasteless sap; no honeycomb of golden triangles meshes their lives and encircles their borders. Their queens labour with drones and defend in line with soldiers; multiple queens abound, and push hatched pink-skins through their wombs in lieu of laying eggs. 
 
 But, though they scatter and disperse, their march is inexorable. They will face sandstorms with nought but hammer and chisel, swearing to carve sculptures from airborne stone. In the face of legion, the frenzied pink-skin laughs and claws with bare hands. They do not hibernate; they will forgo rest if needed. And when fire blazes upon their huts and burns their fruits and fields, pray the fire escapes unscathed. 
 
 Pink-skins have killed. Pink-skins will kill. Of the umpteen millions of species that crawl upon their planet's crust, the pink-skins have extinguished hundreds of thousands. One day they will spread, cancerous and virulent, into every planet past their sun. When that day comes, do not try a pink-skin's patience. 
 
 If you encounter a pink-skin, red with rage and mottled anger, run. 
 
 If you encounter a pink-skin at all, scuttle to the nearest crater and crouch. 
 
 Do not make contact. 
 
 Do not embark on extermination. 
 
 Never push a pink-skin to thin ice.
