Watchers
The scientist watched the drone feed, bored stiff. While most might think that watching the evolution and technological development of a primitive species of sapients would be interesting, one should not forget to account for the fact that it often took tens of thousands of years for anything interesting to happen.
The station had been in orbit over the planet for nearly twenty years with over a dozen different teams of roughly a hundred scientists and engineers to stand watch over that time. To watch over a planet whose only remotely interesting feature was the presence of sapient life in the earliest stages of its development. Unfortunately, that only meant that the members of this species, named by the scientists as sapients-022-01, were as likely to get themselves wiped out as not at this stage.
Take the individual the scientist was spying on studying at the moment. The runt of the group, labelled tribe-022-09, a tribe of less than a dozen individuals that valued strength and size, needed traits for survival on their feral world. As this individual possessed neither, they had been relegated to preparing the food for the others. This group preyed mostly on a certain kind of crustacean, species-022-715, that dwelled at the bottom of riverbeds, possessing claws and shells. The scientist called them muck-claws. They knew the rest of their team had different names for them too.
The runt was busy smashing open the shells to get at the edible innards, using a rock about the size of a fist to crack the hard shells, averaging about four blows to successfully break a single shell. They had to stop every few swings to flex their hand, likely to get rid of the numb feelings they no doubt would have been feeling. Occasionally, they would switch from their rock to a branch they had nearby. It was ineffective at breaking the shells, not possessing the strength of the rock, but the runt seemed to enjoy watching the shells bounce against the ground as it struck them with the stick. Perhaps there was even a musical rhythm to its striking, the scientist wondered, noting it for the log.
One of the other individuals from the group, the largest and presumably the strongest, shouted something in a guttural approximation of the verbal language. If the scientist had to guess at a translation, they'd have said it what something like 'shut up', likely with a less translatable insult attached. The scientist noted the words and the runt stopped banging the shell.
The scientist was about to switch over to another feed, their interest on this particular group just about spent, but stopped when they noticed something unusual. The runt was doing something with the stick and the rock, looking as though they were attempting to push them together. The scientist looked closer, their interest caught for the moment, and they realized that the branch had a small, forked end, which the runt was attempting to wedge the rock in between.
It was an attempt at a hammer, whether or not the runt knew it. It wouldn't work, the rock would fall out of the wedge with nothing to hold it there. The scientist knew this was not the first individual to attempt such a thing on this planet, had heard from the others of those who had attempted similar works. They all gave up after the third or fourth failed attempt. No respect for the scientific method, no idea of what they were so close to accomplishing.
The runt struck a shell with the wedged rock, but it bounced off and the creation fell apart. They remade their work once more and tried again, but again they failed. They cast down the rock and stick, seemingly fed up with their efforts.
The scientist noted the failed attempts for the log and prepared to switch the feed over to another group, tribe-022-017, one they hoped would prove moderately more interesting. But something stayed their hand from switching over. The runt was returning to the site of their failed work, holding some freshly harvested species-022-004, which was long and flexible grass that could withstand above average levels of tension.
The scientist leaned back and tapped the shoulder of one of their fellows seated beside them, who was too busy watching their own feed to be bothered with looking over.
The runt grabbed the stone and wedged it between the forked branch once more. Then, they began to wrap the stone and the branch together with the grass.
The scientist tapped harder and their fellow finally looked over, at first with annoyance and then astonishment. They shouted to the others and soon the entire shift of over a dozen scientists were gathered around the drone's feed, watching with rapt attention, only murmuring encouragements under their breath.
The runt tightened their makeshift rope and held their creation before them, studying it. Then, with a flourish that could only have been for dramatic effect, they brought the newly fashioned hammer down upon the shell before them…
The crustacean shattered with a single blow.
The scientists cheered at the display, breaking the silence of the station with the sounds of their celebration. Some embraced each other, others were so giddy they bounced on their feet. Some had tears running down their faces, while others were simply grinning with euphoria, unable to adequately express the emotions they were feeling.
Then, the original scientist called out to them, a sharp contrast to their joy, drawing their attention back to the drone's feed. The runt had taken their hammer and approached the individual who had shouted at them earlier. They took the hammer and brought it down upon the head of the fellow member of their species.
The alien's skull shattered with a single blow.
Any joy that had been present in the room was gone now. The scientists returned to their stations, quiet and morose. The one who had first brought attention to the matter simply logged the event, numb now despite the ecstasy they'd been feeling mere moments before.
