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first

Luna VI query: Set the source to the leaked files of the first reconnaissance operation of Irisa.

Not a problem!

Luna VI query: How did the meeting about the Zandrid incident go?

***

Nathan felt like a piece of a puzzle that didn’t fit anywhere. The chamber of intricately decorated rock where the elders would meet the humans was filled with tension. A colossal wooden table dominated the center, around which a heated discussion raged. Amara, her eyes twin embers, clashed verbally with Queen Khala, their tails pointed at each other as accusations were exchanged at a dizzying pace.

Flanking them were the elders—their bearing confident, though their colors were not as vibrant as they once were—each siding with either the mother or the daughter. Yet, amidst this storm, their argument's absurd core was unbelievable—the placement of their chairs around the table for the upcoming meeting with human leadership.

It was a scene of such dramatic dissonance over something as trivial as seating positions that Nathan found himself glued to a distant corner, a silent observer of his girlfriend in an argument he had no say in and no intention of getting involved in.

Overwhelmed by the exchange and unfamiliar historical references, Nathan felt a growing sense of isolation. His gaze drifted to the only other human in the chamber, Ryo, who stood silently in another corner with his arms crossed.

Aside from the tension between Earth and Mars, Nathan and Ryo had never been best friends. An overly enthusiastic botanist and a soldier were hardly kindred spirits, and their interactions since the mission began had done little to bridge the gap. Yet, as he observed Ryo now, he wondered if their shared predicament might have created common ground. After all, they now shared the dubious honor of being the only humans with alien girlfriends. Considering that Amara and Elysira were in the process of repairing their friendship, perhaps they too could have a chance at, at least, a surface-level friendship.

Before he could overthink it, he found himself strolling toward Ryo, who was already tracking his movement with a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.

"A bit dramatic over who sits where, don’t you think?" Nathan's attempt at conversation was as cliché as they come.

Ryo glanced at him with a look that suggested he had just proposed a duel at dawn. Like a seasoned guard at Buckingham Palace, Ryo returned to his silent vigil, completely ignoring the unwanted intrusion.

"Amara and I visited Elysira in the hospital a few times." Nathan's strategic shift was deliberate. "She said she misses you."

Ryo took a moment to process his words, his rigid posture softening slightly. "And what does that have to do with you?"

"Nothing," Nathan replied calmly, anticipating Ryo's sharp response. He could have easily retorted or walked away, but instead, he broke eye contact, leaning against the wall. His gaze drifted towards Amara, engaged in conversation with an elder. "I just thought her feelings might matter to you."

Time ticked by as Nathan endured the elders' curious glances, their hushed whispers a constant background noise to the escalating argument between Amara and her mother. Just when he had accepted Ryo's silence, the soldier spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. "She's better off alone."

Nathan was taken aback by Ryo's assessment. He'd heard Amara mention Elysira no longer needed to leave the planet, but the reality was stark—a severely injured woman with nothing besides Amara's friendship. To suggest she was better off alone seemed not only callous but foolish. Even Nathan, with his limited political understanding, could grasp the absurdity of the statement. Mars would likely pay for the R&D of the procedure to recover her tail just to prove they could do it.

"At the very least, she could use some reassurance and someone by her side to help her communicate with the doctors," Nathan argued, convinced Ryo was allowed to do that much, regardless of the limitations imposed by his on-duty status.

"Easy for you to say." Ryo punched the wall. "You blew that piece of shit's head off and saved your princess."

Nathan’s eyes widened as he realized the commotion Ryo’s outburst had caused. Even the queen was staring at them, her gaze fixed and intense. Regret for the conversation washed over him as he straightened from the wall, his focus now solely on Ryo.

"Amara was grilling Elysira about you in the hospital," Nathan began, his voice low. "How was she captured, why did you leave her behind, that sort of thing. Elysira kept going on about how brave you were, how you did your best." He paused, turning to leave. "Just remember, you might not find another woman who can tolerate that temperament of yours, alien or not."

He returned to his previous corner, the urge to question his place in this upcoming meeting momentarily eclipsed by the queen's unwavering gaze. He forced a nonchalant demeanor, but his mind raced. Was this his life now? Forever haunted by what he did to save his girlfriend? His thoughts stirred into absurd scenarios—a stiff, awkward family dinner with the queen, for instance.

Just as he was conjuring a cartoonish image of Queen Khala surreptitiously slipping poison into his food, a gentle squeeze on his hand brought him abruptly back to reality.

"You cannot sit beside me, and I will not be allowed to sit in the middle," Amara declared, her voice low. Her attire, while formal by Irisian standards, was almost translucent to human eyes.

Nathan noticed subtle spots of gray at her neck but dismissed the sight. "I think we can manage to be apart for the meeting."

Amara stared at him, a trace of red creeping up her neck. "This means the elders do not accept our relationship and doubt my leadership abilities."

"So, that's what all the fuss was about." Having someone who could effortlessly decode the argument for a human was a game-changer, a luxury born from their long night talks. "How serious is this 'they don't accept us' thing?"

Her skin tone remained unchanged, but her grip on his hand tightened slightly. "They are not as direct as you humans," she explained. "Their true opinions will only become apparent when they are forced to make a decision." Her gaze locked into his. "Do you think your species will bring up this subject in the meeting?"

He was caught off guard by her question. The idea of their relationship becoming a topic of discussion during a meeting about the Zandrid attack was almost inconceivable. "I'm not sure," he replied slowly. "It's more likely to be brought up privately afterward."

Amara turned, her eyes scanning the elders who were already taking their seats at the table. "That would be better," she replied. Her tail disengaged from his hand, pointing toward the vacant chairs on the opposite side of the table. "You and Ryo will sit on the other side. We will use those three screens on the wall for the meeting since none of the elders have integrated translators."

Nathan could already see the Irisians clustering together on one side of the table while he and Ryo would have their backs to the screens, where some important people would appear. After this meeting, they might finally let him prove his worth as an ambassador—if Earth shows any interest in Irisa after discussing the suspected Alliance ties to the revolutionaries.

Aldrinch and his guards approached Amara as Nathan pondered his role in the upcoming meeting. Before he could process the situation, she was drawn into a small huddle for a briefing, while another Irisian guided him to his seat. Events unfolded rapidly thereafter. Ryo took a seat at the opposite end of his side of the table, and finally, Amara and the queen joined the elders, mother and daughter fixing him with intense glares, though for vastly different reasons.

This was Nathan's first close encounter with Queen Khala. Unlike the elders, whose age was evident even to human eyes, hers was masked by an almost supernatural youthfulness. Compared to Amara, subtle lines around her eyes hinted at a maturity beyond her daughter’s years, and even the tips of her long ears seemed to drop slightly, perhaps due to gravity. Still, there was an aura about her, a possible glimpse of Amara's future—that of a short, elegant alien woman whose presence commanded absolute attention, maybe even fear for those whose lives could be determined by her whims.

He swallowed hard, avoiding Queen Khala's gaze and turning toward the screens to mask his discomfort. Only one screen was active, displaying the large face of a man with a neatly trimmed beard. In a small square in the bottom left corner, he spotted a familiar face—Zara. As soon as she noticed his gaze, she waved enthusiastically.

He waved back shyly, and then the middle screen activated, revealing an elderly woman. She wore glasses, and her silver hair cascaded over her shoulder. On her desk was a peculiar setup—a wooden keyboard and a tiny, pink mouse. It was an archaic interface. Given the ubiquity of modern ocular technology, even the glasses were equally baffling, leading Nathan to believe they were some sort of fashion accessories.

The final screen lit up moments later, and Nathan instantly recognized the figure. With a deceptively youthful appearance, an obvious overuse of nanotechnology, the Martian Prime Minister, Ezekiel ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/MrIzuarel on 2024-09-07 14:12:06+00:00.

Chapter 17

Bonemeal was an item few civilizations were ready to use. In a game where the use had limited consequences, it was a fun way to keep the players engaged, but in the real world, like here...

I didn't allow any of them to touch it, not even Morrigan. Of course, everyone was intrigued by the white powder but at the same time didn't dare to simply take it by force.

I was lucky that Morrigan was more curious about my actions than infuriated.

Once I was certain everyone had seen it, I put it back in my inventory. Most of them were confused about my actions. That was, of course, because I never refused anything to them. However, in this particular case, I had no choice. The dangers from this item were too great.

Morrigan didn't move, but I knew he was interested in it, too. The longing in his eyes was visible to me, but I had to make sure it wasn't misused.

I thought for a long time about this issue, then had an idea how to convey what these powders were good for. But I would wait until the night to do it. Now was the time to fight.

The next monster was a humanoid monster, a demon.

○○○○○

Small Imp Worker level 2

○○○○○

Unlike the deer, the small demon wasn't tied up as such a rope would be too big for such a small monster. It looked a bit like a fairy, but the bat wings and the ugly appearance didn't match the typical fairies from children's tales.

It had a humpback, a strange cap on its head, the rags of some overused pants, and a small bag that was attached to him through a small rope. Well, a rope for his size.

It was armed with a small pickaxe. He swung it against the metal bars of the cage he was locked in, but his attempts weren't fruitful. I say he because it looked to me like it was male.

Once I opened the cage to fight him, he jumped out of it and started picking on me with his weapon. He didn't manage to hit my eyes, although he went for them as soon as he escaped.

He had almost no fighting power, but he didn't go down without a fight.

The rewards were typical of such monsters. 2 copper coins, a piece of fabric, and some trash items meant to be sold. The fabric was not enough to do anything with it, but the coins were very precious to me.

While I could not do much with them, in my position, every little bit was important.

I opened my inventory. Proudly displayed were 2 coins on the bottom of my inventory.

I already knew what to do with it.

Initially, the inventory below level 10 was limited to ten spaces where you could stack up to ten similar items. With the goblin knife and the bonemeal already taking 2 of these spaces, I had only space for a maximum of 80 items left. But now, it was a bit different.

With an Inventory +1, I had access to a 11 by 11 Inventory, and I would only lose it after a "Next Generation" or a "Mutation" in my case.

Losing one copper coin to buy it was worth it, but the next improvement would cost me ten copper coins, then one silver coin, ten silver, one gold, ten gold, one hundred gold coins and so on. A tenfold increase in cost with each improvement.

I was unable to scavenge more materials from that monster as my system didn't allow scavenging of demons. I dragged the corpse away before showing what I had collected, including the second coin. Then I went on with the next monster.

I faced a number of monsters that day. Each time, I emptied my inventory but kept the bonemeal and some coins for myself. I already had 32 copper coins and could easily buy an inventory +2, but I decided against it as I would soon have to go through another mutation. As previously explained, I would lose during that opportunity my extentions to my inventory. Unnecessary expenses weren't my thing.

But I also noticed something else. My loot was still getting stolen, and it always targeted the most expensive item from my loot. Sometimes, it was trash, but whenever claws were involved, I didn't get to see them.

As for scavenging the corpses for other materials, in those cases, the theft didn't work, but at the same time, I would not get any claws at all under those circumstances.

I was still trapped by whoever or whatever was stealing my claws.

Once my work was done and the last monster was defeated, the mages rolled the stolen goods in, including my claws.

I had no doubt they were convinced that I could not rebel as they had my "food."

But I wanted to show them why I didn't want them to get the bonemeal. I drew the picture of a plant and coins next to it, and they didn't understand what I wanted. It was clear to me that such a picture would not work, but I still had to do it.

The only thing that changed was the fact the mages put some paper and a small inc bottle on one of the tables in my room, giving me the possibility to not harm myself to show them what I wanted. The picture on the fur I had done yesterday was already useless since my blood had disappeared from it after some time, similar to how my body parts had disappeared before. As for why it took so long for it to happen, probably because I kept those pictures in my inventory.

They were perplexed by my picture, so I showed them another. In this, I drew a seed, then six powders, then a tree. But even then, they didn't understand what I wanted.

At some point, they simply put regular chains on me and took me out of the room. I was led to the garden of this mage building.

While i found it a bit disrespectful, it was also perfect for this. I looked around and searched for the most expensive plant in the garden, but I could not properly discern which one it was.

Then my attention fell on the cristal tree in the garden. It looked like the most expensive plant of the garden, and after carefully touching it, I confirmed it was a genuine plant. I could not fathom about how a plant could achieve such a crystalline look, but I decided to use the powder on it.

I took one portion of the powder and showed it to Morrigan. He saw me with great interest but stayed silent while noting down what he saw.

In the next moment, I tossed it on the tree.

The reaction was almost immediately. Branches of the tree grew thicker within seconds, leaves became more numerous, and even a few small pinkish flowers showed themselves to us.

This caused a lot of uproar. At first, there was a shock how a powder of unkown origin and characteristics had been tossed at it. Then came the stupor of the immediate changes to the plant.

Young mages were drawn to the tree while I showed the second picture to Morrigan, the one with the six poders transforming a seed into a tree.

He simply stayed silent, though a bit, then pointed out to a plant not too far away.

The plant looked a bit like an orchid, but the size was far bigger. I simply took another handful of bonemeal and tossed on the plant.

The plant reacted violently with the powder, and a small cristal grew of the plant. It was slightly green and Morrigan seemed very pleased seeing that strange gem.

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/MrIzuarel on 2024-09-07 14:11:51+00:00.

Chapter 16

Three days, that was the time I was kept in that room.

As the reasons why, well, the higher-ups of the military complained to the royal family about how Morrigan and the mages had stolen a dangerous monster and were keeping it in an unsecured place.

The mages countered it by claiming their holding cell was better equipped to keep such a special entity captive. Then they complained how the soldiers didn't feed me during my stay, causing me to starve horribly. Thankfully, the mages stepped in and gave me a meal to save me.

The fact that they didn't explain how I was feed showed the manipulative nature of such discussions.

At the same time, the meals I had created were properly analyzed. It turned out to be full of natural magic encased in holy magic to prevent it from rotting and direct all the natural magic to heal the person eating it.

The mages used this to bring the church on their side. They hoped that with such items, the church could grow in power, and with the mages as their provider, the mages would get a backer in these political power struggles. The secret agreement between the two was perfect as long as I created more meals.

But that wasn't the only change in my life during those three days.

I don't know who the genius was, but someone proposed to capture monsters and bring them to me. The idea behind that statement was such that the hunting speed would increase and the dangers decrease if they did it. There were a few back and forth, but the idea was accepted at the end.

For them, the risk was minimized, but for me, the opportunity to flee dropped to zero. If I was confined in a room, how would I be able to leave or summon my helper without being noticed?

But I had little to no choice in that matter.

I was bored out of my mind after three days, and I was seriously missing video games at that time, but at least spying on the young mages was a good distraction.

However, my small rest was only until the first monsters began to roll in. I don't know how, but hundreds of cages and firmly tied up monsters were slowly brought to my room.

At first, I refused to fight and used the drawing of the magical ladle to get their attention. The young mages were a bit confused as these were other mages than those a few days prior, but once Morrigan saw the drawing, he gave me what I wanted.

With the Goblin Army Knife in my inventory, I started hunting earnestly.

The reason why I wanted it was easy to understand. I needed the tools to collect the other materials after the first round of looting. Not every monster had materials, but enough of them had.

Once I stood in front of my first victim, a deer, I did a careful observation of it.

○○○○○

Blade deer level 7

○○○○○

I was a bit surprised by the name and looked around to find the "blade" but didn't immediately find it. It was only when I saw how the antlers were cut off that I realized where the blades were, or had once been.

I started punching, scratching, and stabbing the deer, but compared to the mouse, the deer was quite the formidable opponent. Only after getting annoyed by its unyielding vitality and grabbing the half broken horns did I found a way to kill it more efficiently. I slowly turned its head while firmly gripping the rest of its body with my legs and lower arms.

I slowly turned its neck until I could not anymore and put in more strength. The deer tried to defend itself, but it was tightly bound by a rope and could not escape my grip. It put up some resistance with the neck muscles, but in the end, I managed to break it.

The deer didn't die immediately, but it had a debuff on it, which increased almost a hundred fold the damage taken in the neck area. Such a debuff didn't exist in the game, but at the same time, grappling techniques also weren't present for this type of character, and yet I used it against that monster.

The debuff had a timer on it, so I had to use that time to the best of my ability. And three precise punches on the back of the head later, the deer died.

Everyone was quite pleased by my prowess, but what happened after was a surprise for all of them.

I carefully looted the deer but noticed how one item of the list disappeared into nothingness. Still, I was happy I didn't burst into flames on the spot because of my chains.

Once I confirmed the deer was "empty," I came closer to it and put my left hand horizontal in front of my chest, and with my right, I formed a fist, which grinded on the other one. While it looked a bit silly, my system understood it perfectly.

In the next moment, the corpse of the deer popped like a soap bubble, releasing hundreds of small golden lights. It left only the rope behind.

I wasn't very concerned with it as I looked at the new list of items in front of me.

This time, the items didn't disappear, stolen by some unknown thief, but at the same time, this list would never have claws in it, so it was not really a reason to celebrate.

I looked at the list. Another piece of meat, obtained thanks to the job of hunter. A small piece of leather, a common item gained through the job of scavenger. Bonemeal, common but low droprate item from the job farmer.

I could not be happier because now I had obtained 2 experience points, one of them gained because of my earlier mutation, and an additional third point on my job as hunter.

I knew I could not hide it forever because Morrigan was expecting something from me. He had observed the despawning of monsters often enough to know that this was an exceptional occurrence. So I simply put the three items on the table next to him.

For the bone meal, a fine powder, I had to use a piece of fur dropped by the deer to actually keep the powder together and easily transportable. It wasn't the best solution, but it was a solution.

The young mages were excited at the appearance of new items, but I immediately slapped their hands whenever they tried to touch the bonemeal.

While it wasn't a precious powder in the game, here it could cause enormous problems.

○○○○○

Bonemeal

Consumable

Use: Farmer, herbalist, reduce growing time of plants by 18%

Cooldown: 5 minutes

Value  0 copper.

○○○○○

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Determination7 on 2024-09-07 09:24:53+00:00.

What shocked Ciro most of all wasn't merely their grasp of his Talent. Others had also learned of it at various points in time – only for them to be disposed of shortly thereafter. While he'd put effort into keeping his Talent a secret, its usage always came with a risk of discovery. It wasn't unreasonable that the knowledge had slipped under the gaze of his ever-watchful eye.

Rather, it was the way in which the Detective had described the word that sent a chill down his spine.

'Gravity…' Ciro bit his lip in frustration. 'The science from the World of Ink. The detective is a worthless elf clinging onto life thanks to the Grandmaster's Talent – she is of no importance. Did the Little Painter inform her of the concept of gravity? If not, then how is she aware of it? Or did the First Painter…no, he wouldn't betray the Imperial Family.'

An infuriating, horrifying thought came to him, driving enough fury into his heart that Ciro drew blood from biting his lip before his Realm healed him. "Who is your source, elf?" he demanded. "Is it the Second Painter? The Dark Sorcerer?"

The bird's only response was a cackling laughter. "Now why would I bother telling you that, Your Highness?"

Ciro's first thought was to consider collapsing the entire city into a small, dense sphere, destroying it to prevent his secret from spreading.

It was the Lord Talent that saved him from this fatal mistake, allowing him to process information far faster than how time passed in the world around him.

'It was always a possibility the rebels would learn of my Talent after my meeting with the Little Painter,' he thought. 'But I assumed he had missed the clues. Why else would they still confront me with this knowledge, then? They must understand that I am invulnerable. Why–'

With a start, the Emperor glared at ravens before him. Disgust surged within as his mind caught up to Tenver's memories. "You…are the Puppet Detective, are you not?"

The largest of the ravens, biggest among all birds present, put its left wing across its chest, as if bowing. "My name is Valeria, Your Highness. Consulting detective!"

"These ravens and crows…that is the Grandmaster's Talent, is it not? Should I assume that the Mines have sided with the rebels?"

"Ah, no, no my lord!" Valeria replied. "Rest assured, the Mines still side with the Empire. This treachery is mine and mine alone – or at least, not the Grandmaster's. I shall be executed for my theft of the Communication Ravens, surely."

The Emperor cursed as he reached inside Tenver's memory and searched for an explanation. 'The Little Painter gave her citizenship. She is content to commit treason, believing that she can escape the Mines and take refuge inside Penumbria.'

Ciro's fist tightened its grip onto itself, drawing his own blood for the second time. 'Whether the Grandmaster is turning a blind eye to this treachery, hoping for my downfall, or was genuinely outwitted by this girl…doesn't matter right now. What matters is–'

"If I destroy the city," Ciro pondered aloud, his voice surprisingly calm, "you intend to use these ravens to transmit sight of it to City Lords."

"Aye!" the Detective Raven exclaimed, spreading both wings wide as if fluttering a cape. "And that would be a problem for you, would it not?"

'Insolent commoner!'

The Raven cackled. "Your public reasoning for attacking Lord Adam is that he's a Pretender to Aspreay's title. Considering how he's not in Penumbria, massacring it would be quite…pointless, don't you think? I wonder if your vassals would still choose to follow you then."

They wouldn't. Some out of pride, some out of a delusional grandeur that they could survive his wrath. Death would visit them easily – but the Orbs I'd lose!

Ciro simply couldn't have that. And yet, unnervingly so, the detective's invisible sword of truth was aimed precisely at that exact weak point.

Valeria's strike had dealt the first real damage Ciro had received since his assassination of his brother. For the first time since crossing blades with Gregorio, for the first time ever after acquiring the Lord Talent, the Emperor felt uneasy. His mind raced faster than ever as he came to comprehend the dilemma they'd placed him in.

Another raven spoke up. This one, surprisingly, had Tenver's voice. "Your Talent of Gravity is the world's most dangerous weapon of destruction, my dear uncle…yet also the most useless."

The Valeria-Raven flew up to face the Tenver-Raven, rubbing its beak thoughtfully. "That's right!" she said, in a parody of abrupt realization. "Increasing gravity to a degree that devastated the land itself would cause irreparable collateral damage, yes?"

"Most definitely," Tenver replied, just as pompously. Both birds bowed, enunciating as if they were the leading actors in a theater play. "Can you think of anything capable of stopping gravity from destroying the very user that wields it, Valeria?"

"Allow me a second of thought." The raven tilted its head dramatically, then whipped it back nary a moment later. "Ah! Could it be…a Lord's Realm?"

"Aye!" Tenver replied, clapping its wings in an eerie echo of an applause. "So now you see why he had to assassinate my father – to inherit his Lord Talent!"

On that last point, Ciro disagreed. Gregorio's death had been for the sake of the Empire, not for his own personal power. But they were otherwise correct.

The Lord Talent should've been mine, anyhow. Reclaiming my birthright is no crime. Criminal is the man who stole it before I was alive!

Gravity was an almighty Talent, yet not one that could be used safely. In the rare occasions when someone displayed the ability, they endeavored not to use it beyond its lowest ranks, and rarely obtained enough Orbs to improve it. Very rarely, when someone did improve their control of it…they invariably ended up dead by their own hand.

What good was an ability that made your body denser than your bones could endure? What benefit was there in collapsing an entire army into a black hole if doing so would shatter the very Painted World? Although that last scenario was mere theory – those Talented who dared to use the ability of Gravity would perish before wreaking such havoc.

The Lord Talent, however…the Lord Talent changed all that.

With the Noble Guard, Ciro could survive the immediate effect of any sudden gravitational change. Perhaps more importantly, Royal Orders allowed him to shape his Realm's Laws, letting him create small pockets of reality so that his Gravity wouldn't affect anything except for the areas he so designated.

In the hands of any other, the Talent of Gravity was but a self-destructive explosive. In the hands of the one above fate itself?

It became a weapon that could shape reality itself.

Ciro was immune to Gravity's adverse side-effects, able to manifest his Talent only where necessary. An errant arrow would always be too light to pierce his body. A peasant's raised blade would always feel too heavy when pointed at their god. And even if this almighty defense were to fail, Ciro's Realm, which expanded throughout the entirety of the known world, would heal him of any injuries.

Death bent the knee before him – and thus its avatars served him beneath the name of Hangmen.

It was how he had killed the raven earlier. First by ordering the area around him to be made separate from the outside world, and then by using Gravity to essentially annihilate that area of existence. Even right now, he was manipulating the gravity around his body in order to protect himself from any acts of physical harm.

Upon acquiring the Talent of a Lord, Ciro, The Man That Made Gravity Kneel, had also acquired another title, One that only Valente's ears had ever been blessed with the chance to hear.

The Man Who Not Even Death Can Touch.

He was invulnerable, invincible, indestructible…

And yet–!

And yet…today, this magnificent strength of his, the strength that he had earned through the blood flowing through his veins…

Could kill neither Tenver nor Penumbria.

'You use your weakness as a shield, Nephew! That pathetic, miserable–'

"You need Orbs," said Tenver's crow, cackling eerily. "Your goals, whatever they are, need Orbs – this much we know. And your vassals know this as well. Even though you could destroy any city within the Empire, doing so would reduce your ever-so-important revenue stream of Orbs."

Ciro muttered a curse under his breath. Orbs were vital; the lifeblood of his life's work, each gem a step toward the future he needed to build. He couldn't afford to lose even a single Orb more than necessary. Not when the Dragon's machines already cost so much.

I need the economy to prosper, he thought furiously, for the sake of my dream!

The Emperor stepped forward, crushing more crows beneath his gravity. "Doing so would promote you from a mere failure to a baneful toxin that must be erased, Nephew." His tone was cold as winter. "Have you no mind for what my design would bring? I am the Painted World's last hope!"

"Then let us embrace despair!" Valeria declared theatrically. "My dear beacon of hope – need I remind you that justification was required for declaring war upon Adam, lest you incur a rebellion? Destroying an entire city is far beyond what your vassals could stomach. This is why you came here alone: so that there would be no witnesses."

Tenver nodded in assent. "If your vassa...

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Memory Transcription Subject: Taylor Trench, Human Colonist

Date [standardized human time]: December 23, 2160

The stupid bird sat outside my prison cell, playing solitaire—a human game—from what I could see through the window. The bed and the smart-television were lavish comforts compared to what a predator would’ve gotten under prey species’ watch; they’d stripped the clothes off the back of the first Terran prisoner they obtained, and only given him unclean water from a pail. They beat him to a pulp for smiling that his Venlil friend was alright. Despite having suitable accommodations, I hadn’t slept a wink between my mind racing, and wondering what Gress was going through. One thought roared around my brain like a tempest: if my people had survived, was it possible my parents had pulled through? What would they even think of me, and how could they defend why they sent me off alone?

Alone. While they were happy and content on Earth, and forgot all about our little expedition. It should bring me a relief to know our home planet was still out there, with everything we’d done to preserve our culture, yet all I could think was how unrecognizable Terran society would be now. My life had been wasted; my suffering was meaningless. All of those mornings brushing my teeth, and hating the binocular eyes that stared back from my reflection—a waste. The mirror in this cell was still my enemy, showing that I was right to hide my face beneath the mask; it was the visage of a monster, after all. I’d forced Radai to pull the trigger on the Sivkit ships, which incited this whole war. I encouraged the Consortium to go after the Federation out of hatred, without thinking at all. My people could’ve been reunited with our home sooner. 

The only thing that mattered to you was protecting Gress: the one person who ever loved you, despite how little you deserve it. Instead, you just put him in danger by chasing revenge, because you’re violent, angry, and short-sighted. Earth was lucky to be rid of you.

While I’d once thought the universe was denying my species any solace or joy, I now knew that it was me as an individual whose lot was misery. I hurtled a chair across the room, right as the door swung open. Cala hopped back, barely holding onto a tray she was balancing. The Krakotl stared at me for a long moment, noticing the sweat soaking my hair and the veins popping from my reddened skin. How I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and throttle her. Despite the fact I wasn’t the least bit hungry, my mouth watered as I smelled greasy bacon, and saw pancakes steeped in maple syrup. The wealth of food they took for granted back on Earth, available on every street corner; I hoped the bird wasn’t bringing me tofurky shit. That would be a tease, after how long it’d been since I had a nice, home-cooked breakfast. I lived on granola and meal squares.

“I guess the way to a predator’s heart is through food,” I grunted, wolfing down a bacon strip. The salty flavor was so incredible, I almost sank to my knees with a satisfied shudder. “I wonder what restaurants are like on Earth now, with those frail herbivore sensibilities. I don’t remember what it was like then, and I’ve got even less clue how it is today. Not like a bird would know.”

The Krakotl squawked in protest. “I live on Earth.”

“What, for boot camp? You disgrace the UN logo; they shouldn’t let you wear—”

“I’ve lived on Earth for over two decades, and joined the Peacekeepers thirteen years ago. I’m a British citizen.”

I snorted with derision, a wicked smile crossing my lips. “That’s fucking great! You moved right on in to my planet, while I was forced to leave it at nine years old. What were you doing at the time of the battle: playing Polly wanna cracker?”

“No. I was part of the extermination fleet, Taylor. That’s why I ended up on Earth.”

“The fuck did you just say?” The fork and knife clattered out of my hand, as I no longer cared whether the pancake would grow soggy. “How dare you come in here? You’re worthless, despicable—you stole EVERYTHING! Slaughtering us all like vermin, and you think you could ever make nice with—”

“I was eight years old. My parents stuck me in the extermination fleet. I have nightmares about what those Krakotl did, and what I did. I just pressed the buttons they told me to, which resulted in so many stupid fucking deaths! I was younger than you were leaving Earth, when they had me dropping bombs on predators.”

“You dropped the fucking bombs, yourself?” My fist clenched tighter, as a tension headache formed a band around my skull. This thing helped genocide my species, proving the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “Eight years old, and already a murderer? The Krakotl send literal kids on a field trip to wipe us out. And your whole little beef jerky stunt, chomping on meat, is trying to prove what: that you’re a predator yourself now?”

“We ourselves were omnivores just like you! The Federation, in their infinite wisdom, cured us. The guilt I feel, now that I understand my part in Terran suffering? That’s why I’m a Peacekeeper. Maybe I’ll make up for it, and be better than those fuckwits. Maybe I’ll die, like I should have for what I’ve done.”

“Then you agree that you’re unworthy of breathing Earth—or any planet’s—oxygen?”

“I am unworthy of your species’ kindness and compassion. I won’t resist if you think I deserve execution here and now, but the idea was to give my life for a cause, in the service of humanity; to save a few lives for all I’ve taken. There’s no good deed that can eclipse what I’ve done, yet I must try. Let me do something worthwhile, for you and for Tellus.”

I scowled at the bird, feeling a coldness in my heart a thousand times deeper than what I’d held against the Krev; this was the face of the people responsible for everything wrong with my life. My fingers curled around the knife. Despite knowing it was a dull blade, it was the nearest cutting instrument in reach. Cala being in the extermination fleet would’ve been like if my people sent nine-year-old me to defend Earth, which was a laughable prospect—an elementary school child in the military was beneath even us predators’ standards. It was bizarre to think that was acceptable to them, but I knew I would’ve questioned it if my parents told me to drop bombs on a planet! Also, I didn’t really care to learn that the Federation “cured” the Krakotl, since they had to be a monstrous species to slaughter us without mercy. 

What did slap me in the face was how the blue-feathered murderer spoke. Trying to atone for bloodshed she caused, with guilt that could never be undone: I related to that rationale. It was the same reason I had joined the military, to serve humanity in the wake of the drilling accident I incited. That crushing sense of responsibility had never truly left me. However, my volatility made me a liability as a soldier, which was why I’d been forced to realize there were other ways to aid my species. Being a better person meant reflecting on the flaws that had landed me in that spot in the first place. The Federation were the original villains, if I set my emotions aside; they dumbed down the other species on purpose. The exterminators’ “kill all predators” theme song started and ended with them. If there was peace with the ugly birds, I wasn’t going to ruin it again.

Assuming this…Krakotl is truly capable of feeling guilt, and isn’t just mimicking my own expression of that from reading my transcript, I might be able to get a message through to Gress. He’s all I have. This isn’t his first time getting captured by humans, away from his home and daughter, but these ones have a lot more power; he must be frightened. As much as a Krev is capable of fearing a furless primate…

I turned the knife to saw off a piece of the pancake, popping it into my mouth with the other utensil. “I’d like to see your fucking transcripts. Whatever grand mentality went through our killers’ heads—that oughta be something.”

“I have nothing to hide, if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll pick out enough for you to get the gist of where I’ve been,” Cala sighed. “How are the pancakes? I made the type from your home country, not the thin sort my human Papa would make and fold up in triangles. I know you Yanks prefer the artery-clogging edition.”

“Do I look like I’ve been eating any processed foods?!” I protested, through a full mouth. 

“I saw the bag of…obor treats in the lounge, and no obor.”

“That’s berries and sugar: it’s not that processed. And that was a recent addition to my diet. It reminds me of something I faintly remember from Earth…riding in a shopping cart with Mom through the bakery section of the grocery store, and sometimes, she’d let me pick out a cookie.” My eyes watered, remembering the faint memories of a childhood I’d had. I wouldn’t know my family if I saw them; they might as well be strangers. I remembered the fuck...

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Ori'elen Medresiya Far'gosh Ostolyed V2.0

PVT Tara Levin

(Dirty) Glossary

***

***

First| Previous | Next

The heat within the pit is unforgiving, as always. Despite her having to resort to plucking a not insignificant amount of her feathers to allow for cooling of the flesh beneath, there's only so much that can be done when the air around her is already hotter than comfort can allow. Especially in the tunnels that branch away from the main shaft that went straight from the ground above to depths that even light can no longer reach. How long was it since she saw light other than from glowbulbs and the dim glow of cheap mana crystals they lined these caves?

But then she wasn't down here for comfort. She didn't come down here for light.

Or palaces.

Or the freedom of flight.

As her aged feathers stood on end at a desperate attempt to cool her off in this war against the heat of the abyss, she adjusted the enchanted cloth wrapped around her beak and face to ward off the fumes of this tunnel.

An old and battered sending crystal, its wooden case replaced multiple times at this point was fastened to the skin around her ear canal. She absentmindedly touched it with a worn finger as if it were a prayer bead. She still tried to send through it, hoping that the one who wore its pair would reply. Pointless and futile, she knew, that other crystal must long be lost to time by now, looking at how the one she's wearing isn't emitting anything.

How long ago did they find this hole in the ground? She lost count and probably any care to even try.

Millions of people and an empire gone in what was effectively overnight and at the very center of that, was this abyss. The people over at the surface have come to refer to the area where the Empire of Samastra used to be as the "Dead Lands" and from what she heard from the supply caravans that head over to the upper reaches of their camp, the place was pretty much that... dead. True, plants and trees still grow, but other than the odd bug, no other form of life even deigned to go there.

As always, when her mind wanders to thoughts of the surface, her head looked up as if on instinct. She can't deny missing the skies but...

I miss her more.

The thought lanced through her heart like pangs of regret often do. She's been down here a good, what? Forty years? The mana in these depths are thin, if present at all at times. At least, not in any form she can draw from or even shelter them from the ravages of the Void Outside.

Turns out, the mana that sheathed their entire world protected it from the effects of the Void. Time... it would seem... ran much, much faster the thinner mana became. A mistake her and the crew realized when they were down here a year and they met with an expedition with some of their children, all grown, searching for them who were gone for almost a decade back up top.

So few were left of that original group now. She couldn't blame the ones who left. She doubted anyone would be ready for that kind of consequence, much less if they didn't know about it.

But still, she committed herself to this. So much so that she relinquished her place as Queen of her land, her titles, her egg... their egg. An egg already suffused with her mana and that only needed a father. One she trusts her parents would have likely found by the time she set off on this journey all those years ago.

It was around three years into her journey down here that she decided to no longer concern herself with events on the surface. Whether it was because everyone she cared for up there already moved on or if she just couldn't bear to hear another "all is well" every other day from a stranger. Not to mention that the deeper they went, the faster time went by at the surface to the point that there's just no need to think about that anymore.

True, descendants of the original search party still clung to the middle portions of their journey and even establish a town there, albeit a rather tiny one of less than a hundred people who dedicated themselves to this quest. So it's not like there would be families there, thank the god San for that, at least.

She probably wouldn't be surprised that this expedition would be some strange legend up top to spook the kids in bedtime or for bards to use when needing a quick drink from the taverns.

As she affixed a mana crystal to the cave wall, she stole a glance at her hand. Not like she needed to, but she can't help but notice how the sheen from her feathers have long since faded. Her decades of not embracing the skies have taken their toll on her wings as the appendage that ran from her wrist up to her elbow to her shoulder has atrophied to nothing more but sheets of feathered flesh strapped to her arms.

It's not the first time the thought crossed her mind, but, would she even recognize her now that she's aged into this sorry state? Her beautiful, vibrant, indomitable, nigh immortal elven Hero looking at her decrepit body stretched out and molting in these forsaken pits? The thought kept her up at night, she's ashamed to admit, knowing how shallow it is sometimes.

Still, she won't give up looking for her. That woman has given this world and the souls of its very afterlife more than a second chance at a peaceful existence. It was up to her and those that dedicated themselves to her cause to find the Hero and bring her back so she can get the reward she deserves.

Give her the life you wanted with her, you mean.

She found herself thinking bitterly.

She shook her head away from such thoughts and back to the task at hand; looking for clues as to what transpired all those years ago.

Sometimes, the abyss would have tunnels like the one she's in right now. Hot, beyond sweltering, shafts that meander outwards and upwards from the main bore like branches of tree.... or roots growing the wrong way. Once in a while, she would find strange artifacts inside those tunnels that should point at some clue as to what happened to the Empire, but so far, nothing.

Like the artifact that she accidentally kicked with her boots just now. She can tell from the sound that it would once again be made of that strange material. Deceptively light but surprisingly sturdy -despite them seemingly being ancient - and almost seamless boxes with wonderfully and terrifyingly complex metal pieces inside them.

Leathered ivory, as they have come to dub it as. It was fairly common in these parts, though they didn't know how and what it was made of. Despite being sturdy enough to support a surprising amount of weight both hanging and carried, and strong enough to withstand blades, it's not as sturdy as a well crafted, well enchanted wooden breastplate from any smith. And the ones they find in this kind of heat almost always crumble or melt like wax in their hands, as some unfortunate members of their party can attest to.

Fortunately, she was wearing a heat resistant charm for just these kinds of occasion. Sure, she can use gloves, but an Aviex like her need the her hands to touch something solid, else she fall over from lack of balance.

The item she picked up is one of those leathered ivory things that suggested the shape of a crossbow sans the bow arm. Although, unfortunately, as she picked the item up, all that was left of it was the stock and foregrip and the parts that constituted it as a whole seemed to have long since rotted away.

However, something reflected the light of the mana crystals to the other side of the cave. As she approached it, she realized it was a tube of that same strange material, but with glass lenses affixed to both ends.

She's seen a few of those brought back by some of her people during this expedition. Unfortunately, although their functions were obvious as some sort of viewing apparatus, probably an aiming assisting device considering they were almost always found near these crossbow type artifacts, whatever mechanism allowed them to function as intended are no longer there. Why such devices even needed to be so complex is a question that baffled everyone at camp with the general consensus being that whatever people that are capable producing such precisely crafted fire-touched objects can only do so because of the limitations of size. Although, some artifacts that are about as large as her torso belied that notion.

But the more commonly accepted explanation was that these people were touched with the excesses of madness borne from having access to enough Fire to craft such things to the point of frivolity.

One such frivolity being a necklace of all things. Not even a pretty one. It was of such utilitarian design that even without them recognizing the embossed characters on the flattened sheet of metal, they immediately knew what it was for.

A nametag.

Metal, a product of Fire from the gods. A substance which cannot be produced without at the very least sacrificing some ability to wield mana or risk your lives in the maws of dragons.

One of the greatest materials in the world both symbolically and physically, the stuff of legends. Literally.

And it's been used as...

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Tears in Heaven.

It was considered the worst tragedy in galactic history. It was a genocide of enormous proportions, and it was all an accident.

The Saanu were considered the most empathic race in the galaxy, friends to all, and enemies to none. Even in the greatest conflicts and wars, they were considered untouchable. Would anyone dare to attack them, they were met with open arms, and they would apologize afterward for being so rash. Trade flourished with the Saanu, you would always get a fair deal, at a fair price. If there were any diplomatic problems between species, the Saanu, more than any other species, was chosen to arbitrate. 

Every cradle planet or star system with a center of power had Saanu embassies, consulates, and a large presence of Saanu civilians, even on the most warmongering planets around. 

The Saanu seemed almost god-like, but it was just a quirk of their nature. Their evolution developed the ability to sense other people’s emotions and react to their emotional state. The Saanu did not hide this evolutionary advantage so that no one would accuse them of manipulation, at least not in a direct way. 

The Saanu, being friends to all, were the prime candidates to handle “First Contact” missions, a task that required delicacy. A task the Saanu happily accepted. When the Central Galaxy Trade Organisation monitored the success rate of First Contact missions, the Saanu managed to have a 99.9% success rate. The few times they were unsuccessful were when they encountered species with no emotions at all, and then the task was handed over to the few species that were more based on logic than emotion.

The Saanu’s handling of emotions was not just an advantage in establishing new communication but it was also vital to their society. Every San (single person) was connected with a telepathic field to every other member of the species. This field extended around their own planet, but it was also transmitted with space relays to every Saanu ship. This way, every time the Saanu read the emotions of new species, it got filtered down to every member, in the entire galaxy. The experience would have biological reactions, mainly endorphins, but also stress hormones like cortisol. The Great Filter would make it all manageable. It allowed them to respond to any outburst with understanding and a way to quell any hostility, confusion, or panic. The Great Filter was their greatest asset and strength.

And it would be their downfall.

First Contact

The sign that kicked off everything was the tell-tale signature of an FTL jump. The previously considered primitive species managed to take the first step into the galactic stage, going faster than the speed of light. But with such an endeavor, it will garner a lot of attention. Some attention would be unwanted, some would be peaceful. And some, would be catastrophic. 

Usually, such a catastrophe would occur to the newcomer.

But this time…

The Saanu, once again were chosen to represent the Central Galaxy Trade Organisation to welcome the new species into the community. It was standard procedure at this point. The flagship of the Saanu, which in their own language was called “Friendship One” was the ideal vessel (although people would find the name tacky) to locate the FTL jump and make first contact with the species that created it. Multiple planets waited in anticipation for the news, media was buzzing and speculating how the new species would look like. Was it a peaceful species, a warlike species? Did they have a unified government, or was their world still divided into multiple territories? Have they colonized their own system yet?

The commerce planets were already making draft proposals for trade, although most were eyeing mining rights, which traditionally seemed to be the most lucrative thing for new species initially.

Rumors that the species lived on a high-gravity world, lush with jungles, sprawling cities, and intense weather soon spread when the first long-distance scans came in. The planet was the third major one in the star system, which was already remarkable for having at least 8 planets, some of them gas giants, an asteroid belt between the fourth and fifth planet, and an ice belt surrounding the star system.

After a day of waiting (standard galactic day), the “Friendship One” finally got into the orbit of the third planet from the star. 

Hell broke lose. Reports were chaotic, confusing, and filled with panic. Across the galaxy, embassies reported that all the Saanu on their planet screamed intensely, and then dropped, lifeless. At every Saanu settlement, in every city with a significant Saanu population, the same thing occurred. Screams followed by death.

And the Saanu home star system itself became silent.

Even the most war-like planets, pirate fleets, logic-driven worlds, and trade hubs were shocked by the sheer volume of death. Towns and cities were filled with corpses of the Saanu, overwhelmed and incapable of processing that amount. 

It took months before a preliminary tally was made of the dead.

203 Billion. There was a great search to see if any Saanu survived. 

428 individuals were found, but all were mentally unstable. Half of them took their own lives. The remaining survivors were all catatonic.

A great mourning began. Confusion was replaced with anger and fear. Was it a new weapon that killed the most peaceful and welcoming species ever to have been known? Voices rose up to swear revenge. The spark ignited the flames of war, from all corners. Worlds that have been at peace for centuries started gathering a mighty fleet. 

What has this new species done?

After one cycle, a great armada comprising billions of warships descended upon the Sol star system. All at the ready, cautiously. A species that wipes out an entire species must have great defenses.

Yet, when entering the system, sensors picked up almost nothing. No high-yield weaponry, no system-wide defense net, no interplanetary superhighway, so normal for any species to have, absent. What was picked up was a lot of chatter from the third planet, buzzing with primitive radiowaves. One frequency stood out, because it was more powerful and consisted out a looped message. 

Universal translators worked diligently (actual people studying languages, not the device used for communication) to decipher the message.

It was a call for help.

“For anyone out there, this is a call for aid. On the 19th of ***** in the year 2311, we, humans of the planet Earth made contact with a spaceship of otherworldly origin. It landed at ********** coordinates in Belgium. When it landed, what we presume was a door opened, and 3 individuals moved out of the ship. A delegation of politicians was there to greet them. Something went terribly wrong. The individuals looked at the politicians, grabbed their own what we presume were heads, screamed loudly, and then collapsed. 

We have no medical knowledge of their physiology and were helpless in reviving them. Their bodies have been placed in a biological cooling facility, isolated from the environment, and their ship has been placed in a military facility. We dare not investigate. We are open to any species, we mean no harm. If this call is heard, and you somehow understand what we are saying, land a ship at ******** coordinates, in the country of The United States of America. It has historically been a top-secret area, however, if you wish to land there, we will open it to the world. We welcome you, and we repeat, we mean you no harm.”

The message kept repeating until the coordinates were confirmed. The Taaad’k volunteered to send a ship to land, seeing they managed to integrate the language of this new species into their translator device. Normally, the Taaad’k was one of the last species to officiate contact with any new species. But since their relationship with the Saanu was so strong, they offered themselves. And so it was decided. One small vessel, armed to the teeth, and armored with the thickest shields, both in energy and physical materials, was sent. External speakers were placed and sound sensors installed, so that any communication would be done from within the ship. 

When the ship finally landed at the coordinates, silence was observed, for three rotations of the planet. No one dared to make a move, but since the rest of the Taaad’k armada was not experiencing any obliteration, what was happening was not killing them.

And then the grief-filled message from the Taaad’k ship returned. They found the reason for what happened.

The Great Filter was designed to take brainwaves that were received by the Saanu and literally filter it, to tone down the emotions the Saanu experience when encountering a new species. They learned that some species have such strong emotions, it would overwhelm them. The Taaad’k helped design it together with the Saanu, being very technologically advanced and considered a very emotional species. The “filter” was a dampened re-transmission signal, that could be spread via repeaters to the entire Saanu race, and then looped back. Instead of one member having to deal with the emotions of a new species, the entire Saanu society got a little dose, so that the impact was manageable and safe.

Until they met humanity. When the Saanu stepped out of their ship, they were greeted with an emotional bombardment they had never experienced before. The Taaad’k estimated it was on a magnitude larger than any other species could produ...

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First Previous Royal Road

Chapter theme: CRIM3S - lost (youtube.com)

Chapter 32.

The Witch of Appraisal.

As soon as I saw that Nick Pankratz was hale and hardy and completely free of our influence, I immediately realized the full scope of my error.

I’m an idiot. There are no other words for it.  An oblivious buffoon walking blindfolded through life with as little awareness of the world’s potential dangers as a toddler in a sand box.

“Surprised to see me?” Pankratz smirked.  “Looks like you didn’t take Cassie into account, huh?”

That was exactly what I’d failed to do.  I’ve been so taken with my own class and progression that I didn’t pay enough attention to the trouble that other classes could present.  Specifically, Cassie’s.  All along I’d been referring to her as a healer, thinking of her as nothing more than a mere mender of wounds.  But healer isn’t a class, is it?

 It’s a role.

Her class title was priestess. As in a practitioner of divine arts who used her prayers to bring succor to the injured and ailing.  She wasn’t much of an offensive powerhouse, but she was literally blessed by the heavens.  And that came with considerable bonuses, one of which was immunity to mind control and the ability to cleanse diseases.

Technically, becoming enthralled by our blood arts could be considered an infection.  Something that Cassie could counter perfectly.  She’d faked being mesmerized by Rachel and lay perfectly still while Schulz watched over her, waiting for an opportunity to heal Pankratz and escape.  And that moment had come while Rachel and I had slept under the effect of the siren’s blood we’d ingested.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Where’s the dog?” Pankratz asked as soon as we were cuffed, and our weapons had been secured.

Schulz stood invisibly to our side, waiting patiently for me to give the order to attack. His animal instincts, untainted by siren’s blood had warned him that something was amiss, and in his alertness, he’d activated [Stealth] before exiting the fracture.

Wasn’t he just a clever little thing?

“I didn’t see him when we came out,” I said sorrowfully.  “Poor guy must have been caught in there when it collapsed.”

“Shit,” swore the gunman standing beside Pankratz. “I wanted to see how big of a gem we could carve out of that thing.”

Rude.

In addition to that fellow, there were four other fresh faces here. I recognized some of them from the day of that school outing.  Three of these people had been in Pankratz’ four-man squad.  That meant the extra must have been one of Cassie’s teammates.

Interesting.  I’ll have to make a note of that for later.  In the meanwhile, time to play the part of a helpless prisoner.

“Excuse me?” I said, using an offended tone of voice.  “That thing was a friend of mine.”

“My condolences, asshole,” he said with a sneer. “Next time I suggest you buy a cat.  They’re easier to take care of.”

“Coop, be nice,” Pankratz said smugly.

“Yeah, Coop.  Be nice,” I said with a frustrated glare.  In response, the boy flipped his middle finger my way.  I grinned and bore it, certain of the knowledge that by the end of the day our positions would be thoroughly reversed. 

This was the second time that Pankratz and Cassie had caught me unawares and bound me like a common criminal.  Mark my words, there would not come a third time.  I had thoroughly learned my lesson, and the time would soon come to impart one to them in return.

Rachel picked up on my confidence and seemed to calm down. The adrenalin that had surged throughout our bodies when we were caught had cleared away any of the remaining fog in our heads left over from last night’s deeds.  Now she was staring intensely at Pankratz and Cassie, with wide, urgent eyes that could be mistaken for being fearful at first glance. 

It was the very opposite of that emotion, however.

That was going to be a problem.

“Be very careful with these two,” Cassie warned the others as Rachel, and I were pulled roughly to our feet. “These two are aberrant.  They can deliver some kind of infection via blood transmission that overwrites free will.”

As Cassie spoke, Rachel continued to stare at her. I could feel the hostility my daughter exuded almost as though it was a physical force.  As I thought before, this was absolutely going to be a problem.

Rachel was deliriously angry with the other girl.  If it continued to build, she’d be as drunk on rage as she had been on that siren’s blood.  All her ire was focused on Cassie, and I could tell from the way my daughter was gently running her tongue along her teeth that she very much wanted to tear the healer’s throat out with her bite.

“Stay in the moment, Rachel,” I urgently whispered to her while our captors engaged themselves in conversation.  “Keep your anger in check.”

“She stole him from me,” she replied hatefully.  “That little cow took what was mine.”

“Rachel, you’re in human form now,” I said in a futile effort to placate her. “There’s no reason for you to feel so angry.  Remember, we’re beneath a sunny sky…”

“She needs to give him back.  I’ll kill her slowly if she doesn’t return him at once,” Rachel growled.

Ah, vampiric hierarchy.  What a time for you to show up again.

I’m being sarcastic.  This is actually horrible timing.

I believe I’ve mentioned vampiric hierarchy before, yes? Our innate compulsion to dominate our surroundings and bend others to our will.  Weeks ago, it compelled me to slaughter a Goblin lord for refusing to bend his knee to me.  Now, it was compelling Rachel to murder Cassie for cleansing Pankraz of his enthrallment.  I’ve known for centuries how powerful our need for hierarchy was, but before this moment, I never realized it was strong enough to influence our behavior even when we weren’t using our Vampire Lord class.

Although Rachel was perfectly human at the moment, she still felt the loss of having her lesser kin taken away, and because of it, she wanted Cassie’s life as payment. Our vampiric hierarchy was clearly something that went beyond the boundaries of mere flesh. If we had them, I’d say it was imprinted on our very souls.  A fascinating development to be sure, but the timing for this realization was beyond inconvenient.   

“Rachel, it was Pankratz.  Does he really seem worth all of this?” I asked her. “Just look at him!  What a dope!”

“He was still mine.  She had no right!  I have been slighted,” she replied tersely.

Damnation.  The thing about it, you see, is that Rachel was perfectly correct in her sentiments. Her rights as a creator had been encroached upon. It didn’t matter that Pankratz was a fool and that she hadn’t wanted him to begin with.  The fact remained that he had still taken her blood to the point where they had bonded.  He had been hers. And Cassie had unthinkingly used her powers to destroy that connection.

As Rachel’s lord and creator, I had no right to intervene. My child wanted justice, and it was hers to pursue.  By human logic, this would probably sound thoroughly insane, but more often than not, Rachel and I were monsters. Our ways are not exclusive to one path.

Cassie had inadvertently started this feud, so she’d have to deal with the repercussions.  My hands were truly tied.  In the meanwhile, I had to direct Rachel’s focus toward our more pressing needs.

“Rachel, save it for later,” I urged her. “Now isn’t the time.”

“I want her now,” she said.

“Control yourself!” I snapped at her. “Timing is everything.  Go for her now, and we’ll both die.  I need you to take a breath and be ready to act, okay?”

Rachel closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a long count of ten.  When she reopened them, she nodded at me. “All right.  Okay, I’m good. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I replied.  “You’ll get what you want soon enough.  Just wait for my signal…”

__

“Blood-based mind control. That sounds disgusting,” said one of our other new escorts as they marched us into the center of town to await transportation to Gardenia. The speaker was a sour-faced brunette who looked as though she wanted to use her pistol to put a hole through both of our foreheads. “I really hate dealing with freaks.”

“Keep it cool, Cindy,” said Pankratz.  “The payday we’ll score off turning in a couple Abbies will be worth it.”

Aberrant. A term I would later learn meant that we were hunters who possessed unique classes that were uncontrollable.  It’s not the nicest thing I’ve ever been called, nor is it accurate. Well, for myself anyway.  Rachel still had some issues with her temper. But she was working on them.  That mattered, right?

“They better keep their plasma to themselves then,” grunted Coop.  “If I see one move that I don’t like, it’s click-click-boom.”

“You don’t need to worry about our blood,” Rachel retorted. “Worry about yours, once it’s pouring out in the dirt.”

“She squeaks pretty loudly for such an itty-bitty mouse,” snickered the spearman, a muscular fellow who equaled Pankratz in height.  “Where do you get your confidence, little girl?”

“Don’t tease her, friend.  She bites,” I warned him.

“We’re not your friend, aberrant,” said the swordsman. “Keep your mouth shut.”

“Why don’t you want to be friends?” I asked.  “I’m an interesting guy...

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1fb38h1/my_eyes_glow_red_32/

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/theCoolthulhu on 2024-09-07 08:05:37+00:00.

Warning tones squealed in my ears, their harsh overlapping warbles and chirps formed a harmony straight from Hell. They were the last sounds many pilots ever heard. The beastly snarling of my own good lock tone carved through the cacophony and the reflex trigger cleared my last infrared missile for launch before the sound reached my ears, let alone before my clumsy human hands could have pulled the trigger. The half second growl was tradition however, and viscerally pleasing to my stressed hindbrain.

There was no time to confirm a splash as hypersonic shrapnel had already reduced my left engine to slag and done enough damage to the mechanics of the right engine's airflow management system that the ramjet had unstarted. I was sans thrust at Mach eight point nine sixty thousand meters above hostile soil and the fire sputtering deep in the left engine could spread up the fuel lines at any moment. In short, shit was fucked and it was time to bail.

However, that was easier said than done as I would need to bleed a lot of altitude and speed before I could eject. I hadn't been able to reestablish a datalink connection since I entered the maneuvering envelope and my aircraft's own sensors were struggling to pierce the hellish miasma clouding every spectrum. Infrared could get a decent picture out to five klicks, but only if I was looking for something high contrast like ramjet exhaust. Little else would stick out against the crackling background. So, not something I could use to fly by instrument. I would have to fly blind.

My focus was glued to the angle of attack sensor as I pitched up to slow myself and protect the compromised sections of my airframe. Still, I was rattling in an unnerving manner. Something was developing a dangerous resonance and the last thing I needed was to lose a wing at one of my damaged nacelles. I listened for the data link connection or radar contact alerts, but all I heard was that damned flutter going in and out, lasting a little longer each time. It didn't help that everything was shaking more and more as I bit deeper and deeper into the world's atmosphere.

Two very stressful minutes later more warnings screeched to life as the ruined embers of my left engine burst into full infernal life. I had been able to drop twenty thousand meters and get down to Mach five before that happened at least. Twenty seconds later I heard a loud pop and lost every control surface on my left wing, and the fucking flutter got worse. It ceased its little cycle and didn't subside after a few seconds like it had been. Just as the bow shock had begun to decrease in luminescence one of my engines and probably an entire wing had become a fireball, because apparently I had to be a shooting star the whole damn way down.

With positive control rapidly becoming a happy memory I pitched down again and did my best to keep level. That cut the flutter at least but it'd take forever to reach subsonic speeds and only the Void would know how far I'd drift until then. I was built more like an air superiority fighter than an atmospheric entry vehicle and suffered accordingly. If I was going to lose control I'd last longer as a bird than a stone, the bellyflop position would see me enter a death spiral almost instantly. If I still had engines I could have kicked in the thrust vectoring and told aerodynamics to go fuck itself, but that ship had undocked already.

When I was level I looked at my left wing and confirmed the damage. I had been expecting flames subconsciously, but at those conditions such a thing was impossible. I visually confirmed the damage though. More worrying than a fire was that the heat resistant paneling on parts of the wing were gone. I had lost roughly eighty percent of my velocity since kissing the top of the sky about half an hour before, but I was just dropping out of the hypersonic regime and compression heating still had fangs enough to tear me to shreds.

Long minutes dragged themselves by tortuously slow. I was still relying on purely internal guidance as the dull red hellstorm had yet to abate and thus I had no real idea of my altitude. Not much changed since leveling out and that uncertain mundanity was unraveling me.

I was ripped out of a distant reverie by developing a rightward roll. I tried to correct and realized I had the stick all the way to my left already. My conscious mind had been floating over the stress of the situation and being dunked deep into the sea of adrenaline again had my decision making lagging dangerously far behind. I had rolled nearly forty degrees by the time I figured out the problem. All the fuel in my left wing had combusted resulting in me being horribly unbalanced. I dumped the fuel in my right wing and began to level out again. I was just starting to feel better when I heard another dull pop, this time from my right side.

I had dumped hundreds of kilos of fuel through a shockwave. A shockwave which was by definition incredibly hot.

Fuck.

The flutter started again. It wasn't a rattling somewhere behind me any more, it was a full frame shuddering that hurt my head. In short order my left wing had caught the resonance and promptly ripped itself off. I began rolling left and there was no saving it. After about three and a half rotations the right wing went too, taking the right side stabilizers with it.

Fuck.

I was rapidly pitching down and lazily spinning. Losing half my fucking plane had also bled about a Mach's worth of speed and I was at the high end of Mach three according to my untrustworthy onboard sensors and rapidly descending. I was still going too damn fast and too damn high to eject though.

I kept a solemn watch at the altimeter. Thirty-five thousand meters. Thirty thousand meters. Twenty-five thousand meters. Twe-

The clouds broke. Those red radar-eating clouds were gone and below it, rapidly approaching, was a startling, eye-searing expanse of deep, deep green. I've never seen anything like it.

Before I could lose myself in the verdant expanse my radar finally touched something solid and gave me a much more accurate altitude. I was five thousand meters below where I thought I was and in twelve seconds I was ten thousand meters above the surface of the planet, low enough to eject. I worriedly eyed my speed; stubbornly at Mach one point five.

I let the seconds pass, watching that green ground come for me like the bruised fist of a drunken man who out-massed me by several orders of magnitude.

I checked my speed. Fluttering between Mach one point two and one point three.

Greedily I took a split second to glance at the world below.

Fuck it.

I yanked the ejection lever.

Pain.

[Next] (https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1fb2w32/silence\_of\_guns\_2/)

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/someguynamedted on 2024-03-17 23:47:33+00:00.

Content Theft

Greetings citizens of HFY! This is your friendly Modteam bringing you a (long overdue) PSA about stolen content narrated and uploaded on YouTube/TikTok without your express permission. With the increased availability of AI resources, this is sadly becoming more and more common. This post is intended to be a resource and reference for all community members impacted by content theft.

What is happening:

Long story short, there are multiple YouTube and TikTok (and likely other platforms, but those are the main two) accounts uploading HFY Original Content and plagiarizing it as their own work, or reproducing it on their channel without permission. As a reminder to everyone, reproducing someone else's work in any medium without their permission is plagiarism, and is not only a bannable offence but may also be illegal. Quite often these narrations are just AI voices over generic images and/or Minecraft footage (which is likely also stolen), meaning they are just the lowest possible attempt at a cash grab or attention. That is, of course, not to say that even if the narrator uses their own voice that it still isn't content theft.

We do have a number of lovely narration channels, listed here in our wiki who do ask nicely and get permission to use original content from this subreddit, so please check them out if you enjoy audio HFY!

Some examples of this activity:

Stolen Content Thread #1: Here

Stolen Content Thread #2: Here

Stolen Content Thread #3: Here

Stolen Content Thread #4: Here

Stolen Content Thread #5: Here

What to do about it:

If you are an author who finds your work has been narrated without your permission, there are a few steps to take. Unfortunately, the mods here at Reddit have no legal methods to do so on your behalf on a different platform, you must do this yourself.

You as the author, regardless of what platform you post you story on, always own the copyright. If someone is doing something with it in its entirety without your permission, you have the right to take whatever measures you see fit to have it removed from the platform. Especially if they intend to profit off of said content. If no credit is given to the original author, then it is plagiarism in addition to IP theft. And not defending your copyright can make it harder for you to defend it in the future, which is why so many big companies take an all or nothing approach to enforcement (this is somewhat dependent on your geographical location, so you may need to check your local legislation).

• YouTube: Sign in to your YouTube account and go to the YouTube studio of your account. There is the option of submitting a copyright claim. Copy and paste the offending video link and fill out the form. Put your relationship to the copyright as original author with your info and submit. It helps to change the YouTube channel name to your reddit name as well before issuing the strike.

  • You can also state your ownership in the comments to bring attention from the casual viewer of the channel who probably doesn't know this is stolen work.

• TikTok: If you find a video that’s used your work without your consent you can report it here:

  • You can also state your ownership in the comments to bring attention from the casual viewer of the channel who probably doesn't know this is stolen work.

If you are not an author directly affected, do not attempt to fill copyright claims or instigate official action on behalf of an author, this can actually hamper efforts by the author to have the videos removed. Instead, inform the original author about their stolen work. Please do not harass these YouTube/TikTok'ers. We do not want the authors' voices to be drowned out, or to be accused of brigading.

If you are someone who would like to narrate stories you found here, simply ask the author for permission, and respect their ownership if they say no.

If you are someone who has posted narrated content without permission, delete it. Don't ever do it again. Feel ashamed of yourself, and ask for permission in the future.

To all the users who found their way here to r/hfy thanks to YouTube and TikTok videos like the ones discussed above: Hello and welcome! We're glad that you managed to find us! That does not change the fact that what these YouTube/TikTok'ers are doing is legally and morally in the wrong.

FAQ regarding story narration and plagiarism in general:

• "But they posted it on a public website (reddit), that means I can do whatever I want with it because it's free/Public Domain!!"

The fact that it is posted in a public place does not mean that the author has relinquished their rights to the content. Public Domain is a very specific legal status and must be directly and explicitly applied by the author, or by the age of the story. Unless they have explicitly stated otherwise, they reserve ALL rights to their content by default, other than those they have (non-exclusively) licensed to Reddit. This means that you are free to read their content here, link to it, but you can not take it and do something with it, any more than you could (legally) do with a blockbuster Disney movie or a professionally published paperback. A work only enters the public domain when the copyright expires (thanks to The Mouse, for newly published work this is effectively never), or when the author explicitly and intentionally severs their rights to the IP and releases the work into the public domain. A work isn't "public domain" just because someone put it out for free public viewing any more than a book at your local library is.

• "But if it's on reddit they aren't making money from it, so why should they care if someone else does?"

This is doubly wrong. In the first place, there are many authors in this community who make money on their writing here, so someone infringing on their copyright is a threat to their income. We're aware of several that don't just do this as a side-hustle, but they stake their entire livelihood on it: it is their full-time job. In their case, it could literally be a threat to their life.

Secondly and perhaps more importantly, even if the author wasn't making money from their writing and never did, it doesn't matter. Their writing is their writing, belonging to them, and unless they explicitly grant permission to someone to reproduce it elsewhere (which, FYI, is a right that most authors here would be happy to grant if asked), nobody has the right to reproduce that work. Both as a matter of copyright law, and as a matter of ethics--they worked hard on that, and they ought to be able to control when and where their work is used if they choose to enforce their rights.

• "How is this any different than fan fiction, they're just showing their appreciation for a story they like?"

Most of these narration channels are simply taking the text as-is and reading it verbatim. There's not a mote of transformative work involved, nothing new is added to the underlying ideas of the story. In a fanfiction, the writer is at least putting a new spin on existing characters or settings--though even in that case, copyright law is still not squarely in their favor.

• "Okay so this might normally be a copyright violation, but they're reading it in a new medium, so it's fair use!"

One of our community members wrote up a great explanation about this here that will be reproduced below. To summarize, for those who don't click through: no, it's not fair use. Copyright fully applies here.

This is not fair use, in any sense of the term. A public forum is not permission to repost and redistribute, unless that forum forces authors to grant a license that allows for it. An example often brought up in that respect is the SCP wiki, which sets all included work to be under a creative commons license.

That is not the case for Reddit, which grants no such licenses or permissions. Reading text aloud is not significant enough change to be a transformative work, which removes allowances that make things like fanfiction legal. Since this is not transformative work, it is not fair use as a parody.

Since money was involved, via Patreon and marketed goods, fair use allowances for educational purposes are greatly reduced, and no longer apply for fiction with an active copyright. (And if the author is still alive, the copyright is still active.)

There are four specific things that US copyright law looks at for fair use. Since Reddit, Youtube, and Patreon are all based in America, the relevant factors in the relevant legal code are:

1. Purpose and character of the use, including whether the use is of a commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes: this youtube channel is for profit, using original fiction with no changes whatsoever to the story. ...

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1bhcl44/content_theft_and_you_a_general_psa/

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/sswanlake on 2024-02-10 04:00:54+00:00.

Hello lovely people! This is your daily reminder that you are awesome and deserve to be loved.

In this last year (in October), we've reached over 300,000 subscribers. There's so many of us! I can honestly say that I'm proud to be part of this amazing community.

I'm very pleased to announce that we have our first new addition to the Classics page in a very long time! The (in?)famous First Contact by Ralts_Bloodthorne shall be enshrined in that most exclusive list evermore. And now, to talk about the slightly less exclusive, but still very important, Must Reads list!

Same rules apply as in the 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022 wrap up.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the list, Must Read is the one that shows off the best and brightest this community has to offer and is our go to list for showing off to friends, family and anyone you think would enjoy HFY but might not have the time or patience to look through r/hfy/new for something fresh to read.

How to participate is simple. Find a story you thing deserves to be featured and in this or the weekly update, post a link to it. Provide a short summary or description of the story to entice your fellow community member to read it and if they like it they will upvote your comment. The stories with the most votes will be added into the list at the end of the year.

So share with the community your favorite story that you think should be on that list.

To kick things off right, here's the additions from 2022!

Series

• The Princess and the Human by Dak1on
• Galactic High by Spartawolf
• The Elusive Human, So Often Forgotten by DropShotEpee
• Arcane Paladin by Degermark
• Hedge Knight by grierks
• Humans are so dense by Gaza1121
• Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School by Jcb112
• A Year at the Zoo by Aeogeus Complete
• Human Stingers by NumerousSun4282
• The Flesh is (Not) Weak by RavniTrappedInANovel
• The Demon’s Accountant by MrSharks202
• Void Predators by runs-with-scissors42
• Death by Deathworld by stonesdoorsbeatles
• Quorum of War by yousureimnotarobot

One-Shots

January 2022

• A Child’s Tale by UncleanlyCleric
• Can’t Do That With a Laser by a_bored_nerd
• Homeland by XRubico
• Terran Design Principles by arclightmagus
• The Ballad of Mining Drone CX4791M-A by magicrectangle

February 2022

• Crystal Palaces by Foreign-Affect7871
• Humanity’s Last Resort by Iplaymeinreallife
• Terrans Do Not Bleed for Xenos by elderrion
• They Throw Rocks Really Well by Mercury_the_dealer
• Those Who Run by NoGoodIDNames

March 2022

• Berserker [One shot.] by Ordinant-
• Energy Efficient by interdimentionalarmy
• Those Who Stole from Death by LoneNoble
• The Symbol by Lui_Le_Diamond
• If its Stupid but it Works... by Schwarzer_R

April 2022

• A Throne by The_Mad_Crafter
• From Ear to Ear by LordsOfJoop
• Tattered Standards by RoyalHyacinthus
• Terran Soil by ProvisionalRebel
• Utopia by GodFromMachine

May 2022

• Survive, little ones, survive by Erebosyeet
• Fortune's Favour by Sooperdude24
• But Does It Scale? by Ray_Dillinger
• The adventures of Bob the Badass, Space Mall Cop by madpiratebippy
• Healing+Lightning=Wizard Launcher by InBabylonTheyWept

June 2022

• Burning Bridges by InBabylonTheyWept
• Lucky Dip by the_forj
• Humans are not psychic by BBforever
• THEY'RE ONLY STUDENTS!?!?! by SilentPathwalker
• Witnessed by GirogiArts

July 2022

• Bridge Species by daeomec
• The Child of Man by tea_and_tungsten
• Humanity Failed by pixelsnotincluded
• A Human Walks Into A Toy Store by rewt66dewd
• Leave by Speedhump23

August 2022

• [Dead Men](https://www.reddit.co...

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1an7e5u/2023_end_of_year_wrap_up/

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/cmsinned on 2024-09-07 02:57:45+00:00.

The war had raged between the Universal Galactic Cooperative and the Kav'nir empire for five years. The UGC had managed to push the Kav'nir back to their own system at great cost to its numerous members. Save one. The Terrans. They had abstained from entering the war citing the UGC's continued refusal of a Terran representative to have a seat on the council. The UGC had discounted the Terrans for the war effort anyway. Theirs was a small system with only one habitable planet.

Although the blockade of the Kav'nir Empire currently held, it was beginning to crack. The Kav'nir reproduced at an unbelievable rate and their warrior class reached full maturity in just a few weeks. The Kav'nir, having been pushed to the wall, began pushing back.

The UGC just couldn't reinforce their armadas as quickly as the Kav'nir. Within weeks the blockade would be broken and, with the UGC's military might depleted, the Kav'nir's retribution would be swift and merciless.

It was at this point that the UGC council beings began receiving pleas from their home world's leaders. Every one of them demanding a resolution. The council had immediately called for an emergency session. Hours of arguing had produced no viable outcomes for the UGC until a soft voice spoke into a sudden lull in the furor.

"What about the Terrans?" The small Jellabian council being inquired.

For a moment not a sound was heard in the council chamber. Then the council beings burst into raucous laughter. The Jellabian smiled wanly as he waited for his fellow council beings mirth to subside.

"What do we know of the Terrans? Truly?" The Jellabian council being began again. "We are on good terms with them, we trade with them, and they've never dealt with any of our races in a deceitful manner, to my knowledge. I, myself, am on friendly terms with the Terran World Leader. A most respectable man."

Council being Tabor of the Ikosta system spoke up, "Although they do not seek to expand their territory, nor do they reproduce as rapidly as the Kav'nir, they are constantly at war among themselves. They act like unruly children."

"This abhorrent behavior against their own kind is why we have continually denied the Terrans a seat on the council. Perhaps one day they will reach a level of maturity where they will quit killing their own people and work together to take their place among the stars." The Ferik council being added, his furry jowls wagging beneath his shaking head of negation.

The Jellabian steepled his eighteen fingers before his flat, orange skinned face. "Perhaps we should treat them as the young adults of our own houses." He said, glancing around the chamber with his green, cat-like eyes.

"What do you mean?" The Churvin council being asked, his tentacled head cocked inquisitively.

"Offer them a seat on the council. Give them more responsibility and let them see that it's time to mature and join the grown ups," the Jellabian answered.

The council chamber erupted again and the Jellabian sat back and sighed. When the noise finally died down the Jellabian spoke again. "We are losing the war. The blockade will not contain the Kav'nir for much longer. What do we have to lose?"

"If the Terrans prove successful in assisting us, we could always rescind the offer after the war. What could they do?" Council being Qarn interjected to the agreeing nods of the rest of the council.

The chamber was quiet for several minutes until a voice spoke into the silence. "Seconded."

A moment later a third voice rang out. "Third."

And, so, the motion by the Jellabian council being carried.

Council Speaker Loosha, of the Hiff system looked at the Jellabian. "Council being Shtaz, would you extend the offer to the Terrans since you know their leader?"

"It would be my honor, Council Speaker," Shtaz replied.

The Jellabian tapped on his data pad and the large council view screen on the wall lit up showing a signal connection attempt. After a few moments a smiling human appeared on the view screen.

"Council being, Shtaz! So good to hear from you. Did you get the Alaskan crab I shipped for your daughter's wedding? I'm sorry I couldn't attend."

"I received them, World Leader, they were delicious. Thank you! But I fear my call is a matter of system politics." Shtaz replied.

"Of course," the Terran Leader replied. "How can I be of service?"

"Sir. The council has agreed to extend your world a seat on the council if the Terrans will agree to join the war effort against the Kav'nir," the Jellabian replied.

"We accept. What is the current status of the war?" The Terran leader asked.

Council being Shtaz outlined the current situation and what the UGC was up against. The Terran leader asked for a moment and muted the communication. On the view screen, he could be seen having a discussion with an obvious military man, his uniform was adorned with medals. The Terran World Leader finished his conversation and reopened the com. "Three days. Well send our best." Was all he said before closing the com completely.

Four days later, the Kav'nir formally surrendered to the UGC. The council and the empires of the UGC were aghast. It took another four days before footage of the battle was made available to the council from the military.

As the council watched the footage on the large view screen, a small, black ship entered the Kav'nir system above the home planet. The markings on the ship was recognized as belonging to the Terran Space Marine Corps branch of their military. The screen split and the other half of the screen showed a Marine in its large, heavy battle armor. The council members watched as the Marine performed a wide broadcast to the Kav'nir and politely asked for their surrender. The Marine was refused.

Two minutes later the ship rotated to face the Kav'nir home World and a drop pod blasted from the bow of the ship and rocketed towards the planet. It's speed was such that planetary defense systems were unable to track or target the small pod.

Entering the atmosphere, the pod broke apart, and a solitary Marine could be seen falling amongst the numerous pieces of the pod that were slowly spreading away from the warrior. As the numerous pieces impacted upon the outskirts of the Kav'nir Capitol, they detonated and destroyed everything around their ground zero. The Marine touched down in the center of the Capitol and began making its way towards the palace.

The Marine carried death wherever it went. Entering and exiting buildings leaving destruction in its wake. The Kav'nir House of Justice fell. The House of War followed. Thousands upon thousands of Kav'nir military and civilians, young and old, littered the streets. The gutters of the city literally overflowed with blood from the dead and dying. The Marine raged among the populace and left nothing standing behind it.

The warrior entered the palace the next morning and a half hour later the Kav'nir Emperor's wife appeared on the screen to formally surrender; two of her children clinging to her legs. In the background, the bodies of the palace staff, the royal guard, the Emperor, and the rest of the royal children lay in macabre scenes of death. Her surrender was formally accepted by the UGC military and they began landing troops for the transfer of power.

The Terran ship was seen touching down in the palace gardens and the council members watched in horror as the Marine made its way across the garden in blood and gore smeared armor. The Marine paused, looked around, and entered the ship. It lifted moments later, rocketed out of the atmosphere, and returned to Earth. There was total silence in the council chamber. Every mouth of every council being stood open.

Finally, the Council Speaker said, "One man did all that damage. One man slaughtered all those Kav'nir. One man from Terra." His eyes never left the view screen as it continued to play scenes from all over the devastated Capitol. "One man." He whispered.

The Jellabian had been reading the accompanying report and shakily cleared his throat. "Your pardon, Speaker, but it was one female Terran that did all that."

The Speaker's head snapped around to stare at the Jellabian in amazement. "A female? A Terran woman? But... they're so small!"

"According to the report, the Terrans sent a husband and wife strike team but the female was in the middle of something called her menstrual cycle. The husband refused to do the drop with his spouse and stated that, 'He wasn't dropping anywhere with that psycho while she was carrying munitions.' And he stayed aboard the drop ship. So, she went alone.

"Black holes in dark space," the Council Speaker said. "What are we going to do with this knowledge of their military might?"

The Jellabian stared seriously at the Speaker. "I would suggest that we don't rescind the offer of a seat on the council. Imagine if we angered them and they sent two?"

~Chad Sinned

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Traditional_wolf_007 on 2024-09-07 01:34:17+00:00.

It has been two hundred years since the fall of the United States of America, and all other human nations at the hands of an alien collective known as the Federation. The Federation rules over most of the Earth without meaningful contention, but in the far northern reaches of North America the Alaskan National Guard fights on. The Alaskan Guard was formed out of American, Canadian, and Russian units that held out long after the Federation forced their nations’ surrender. The last free army on Earth hides in vast bunker cities under the permafrost, and deep in the mountains. It sustains itself on venerated war gear from two centuries past, and mans its trenches with the children of alien POW’s and descendants of the original Guard alike. Now, they fight a brutal guerilla war in some of the harshest conditions known to man against a technologically and numerically superior foe. 

The sun broke over the horizon, bathing the taiga in golden light. 

“Cold this morning, sir.” I said. The captain put down his binoculars for a moment. 

“Дa, Specialist.” He replied. “Good for us. Foxtrots don’t perform in low cat.” I nodded.

“Hooah,”I replied.

 “How old are you, Specialist?” He asked, after a moment. 

“Fourteen, sir.” He nodded.

 “Moving to Corporal when?” 

“NLT fifteen, six months, sir.” He nodded, impressed. 

“See you at Captain school by my age.” I nodded, grateful for the confidence he placed in my career. I considered his age, though, and doubted I’d live to be as old as he was. His voice had changed to an authoritative baritone, and his face was devoid of even the barest hint of acne. He had to be twenty-two, at least. We were of similar heights, but only because my species grew taller and slimmer than humans. 

“How old are you, sir?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to invoke his offense. 

“Twenty,” He replied. “Plan to go full bird by twenty-five.” My eyes widened. That was ambitious. If he survived, at that rate he could make General by thirty or thirty-five. There was a reason, however, that such quick promotion was possible. Enemy snipers were to officers what romantics were to the unmarried. He put his binoculars back up.

“Approaching. Warm the armor.” He motioned to a couple other crewmen to do the same to their own vehicles. 

“Roger,” I scurried up inside the carefully concealed Abrams tank, making sure not to disturb the tyvek wrap, then once inside started the engine. The ancient machine, sanctified by the prayers of a thousand soldiers, roared to life. I looked through the thermal scope as the captain climbed in the vehicle. Little blips of heat in the forest moved slowly a couple thousand meters out. In black marker, faded orthodox prayers were written in Russian around the edge of the scope. I murmured some of them aloud in English as I calculated the firing solution.“*God sanctify this weapon, and forgive this sinner.”*

“Initiating fire in count thirty.” Captain Johnson said. “Is it done?”“Дa, Shift eight mils sky, sir.” 

“Спасибо,” The sound of the tank’s main gun moving filled the cabin. I glanced at my watch. Fifteen seconds until initiation of fire. I scrambled over to the gun’s magazine and picked up a sabot shell, ready to load it. It was scrawled with a mixture of prayers and profanity. 

*CHOKE DEAD FEDERATION!*

*Дочь Вавилона, опустошительница! блажен, кто воздаст тебе за то, что ты сделала нам. Псалтирь  8:137.* 

*STICK THIS, ALIEN!* 

I had a special hatred for aliens, as did most of the guardsmen who traced their lineages to species other than human. Aliens were godless weaklings without exception, and yet some how I was related to some of them. The thought disgusted me. I was trained to fire a weapon at the age of five. I was trained to march like a man at eight, and march like a machine at ten. I was conceived inside an Abrams tank. My helmet had belonged to my father, and his father, and his mother, and hers before me, inscribed with each of their names. My rifle had been borne from Afghanistan to the South China Sea, four hundred-thirty-five notches in its stock. I was bathed in the pride of a hundred warriors before me. Of that, what could an alien say? That they were born to a life of luxury aboard a starship; never knowing the cold bite of the wind, or weight of the sword and gun? 

My heart pounded in my chest. I glanced down at my watch, my arms struggling to hold the shell. Ten seconds. I steadied myself against the wall as best I could. The tank shook, almost knocking me over. The chamber opened, and I frantically loaded the shell. I recited a prayer for tankers as the next round shook the vehicle, gripping the prayer rope sticking out of my FLC vest. 

Be my armor, O Lord. Let this wrath not be mine. The tank shook. I hefted another round with great effort, and loaded it. I lost my place on the rope, so I recited the first line again. Deliver me from flame; deliver me from damnation. Went the next line. My claws scratched into the interior paint as the tank fired again. My heart sunk, as I’d damaged military property. Let my ears hear only your thundering voice. 

The tank lurched forwards, and I felt it sliding down the hill. That was my cue to get on the M2 machine gun. I climbed up and out the hatch, snowdrift stinging my face, I pulled my goggles down and gater mask up, before gripping tight onto the .50 cal’s handles. 

It had turned into a bright day, with the sun climbing the horizon, and the snow reflecting its light like a mirror. Shells screamed through the air as our support line fired on the Federation line. Red lasers and burning flechettes shot out from the treeline, and I lit the area up with machine gun fire. The whirr of Federation hover vehicles echoed around me, laser fire pouring out of an enemy vehicle. Laser never did much to armor plating, but I ducked anyway because it was damned effective against personnel. I popped back up and started leading my shots to where I thought the skimmer would be when the rounds hit, and although I couldn’t see the thing itself through the brush, I could see the licking flames engulfing it. Our vehicle pressed forwards, through the brush onto an icy road, tracer rounds ripped through the trees and scrub, but the shells had stopped. Before us stood red-uniformed infantry, scrambling to get to cover. That was good. So long as they kept their distance, I had nothing to worry about from them. The Federation soldiers were of many species, most of which I’d seen wearing American uniforms just as naturally. 

It wasn’t much of a fight. All of their heavy vehicles had already laid smoldering and disabled. A few laser pulses came my way, but the tree cover the enemy had was as good as bad concealment against my .50 cal. Combined with fire from gunners on other vehicles, and it was over in seconds. We hit our limit of advance after crossing the road, and after security was set up, the EPW team was called to search the bodies of the dead. Being on the team, I slung my M4 around my neck and made my way down. My battle-buddy was a human girl a year my senior named Smith, an E-4 like myself. I was glad I wouldn’t be dealing with some ten-year-old private, in case shit went south. The first body we checked was a J’Arn. I popped a round in his chest, then one in his head regardless of whether he was still breathing. Then, I pulled security on the squat creature while she rolled his body over in case he’d fallen on a live grenade. 

“CLEAR!” I shouted. She crossed the dead alien’s legs, and we repeated the process on a few more hostiles. We came to a body that was Lyran, like me. Orange skin, black hair; humanoid, but cat-like. Alien Lyrans are cowardly shits that like to snipe, and usually use their quick feet to get away when you try to gut them up close. Ours are as disciplined as anyone. It made me angry to think we were the same species. I handed my weapon to Smith, and laid down next to the corpse, pulling roughly on his clothes to flip him. 

Only… the air next to the alien’s nose was hot. I was supposed to dead-check the bastard, I realized, too late as the alien’s eyes shot open and pulled a knife off his belt. I caught his dominant wrist, but missed his off-hand. Twin pupils in both eyes bored into my skull through my goggles, and the alien clawed at my face. My gater did little to protect my cheek from the alien’s claws. It slipped, and his face widened in shock when he saw my face beneath. I used the pause to my advantage to headbutt, kevlar helmet to bare head, sending the alien reeling back. I followed up by sinking my fangs into his arm. The alien cursed in its ugly language. I didn’t care that I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t want to. I realized the bastard looked older than the Captain. Maybe twenty-five. It almost intimidated me. I was strong, and well-trained, but I’d never seen this kind of fighting before, and that was a lot of seniority.

I caught a glance of Smith trying to get a good shot, but could hear the rest of the platoon screaming at her not to shoot. The alien wrestled me to the ground, pinning my arm and freeing his own, poising to stab. At that, Smith let out a yell, and dove at the alien, tackling him off me. The was a splash of blood on the snow, and Smith fell to her knees. The alien staggered to his feet, and he raised the knife to bring it down upon me. 

A deafening rattle lit up the air, and suddenly the alien was nothing more than a red mist. My ears were ringing....

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/IvorFreyrsson on 2024-09-06 22:31:19+00:00.

[First] Prev

An hour and forty-five minutes later, the door opened for what Markus hoped would be the last time today. He was tired and the last two souls had rubbed him wrong.

Oddly enough, both souls came from the same incident. One of them had been drunk and had killed the other in an auto accident. The victim was more than a little irritated with the whole affair. Understandably so. He had been assigned to Purgatory for a time, and was expected to make a full recovery fairly quickly.

The driver, however, was an unrepentant drunk who had a troublesome predilection for some rather unsavory practices in the bedroom. Markus wasn’t one to yuck another’s yum, but when it came to consent, he had an ironclad rule. ‘No means no, and the word ‘No’ was a complete sentence.’ This man didn’t see it that way, and as a result, had been sent to the Seventh Level.

He was in for a world of hurt.

The soul that entered was small. Markus had to stand to see it, and even then, it was almost missed. The small, lithe creature scampered to the wall, investigating the plants there. Finding nothing of interest, it scurried across the floor to the opposite wall to have a look at those plants. It hopped into the planter and scanned its surroundings.

Markus looked at the file. A weasel? Kentucky had weasels? He shrugged and called its name. “Bertram?”

The weasel’s head whipped around to face Markus. Hopping down, it slowly approached the desk. “You know my name. How curious,” A tiny, high-pitched voice called out.

“Would you please come up here, so we may better communicate? I cannot hear you too well, Bertram.”

Bertram dug his tiny claws into the stony desk and made his way up the leg and onto the tabletop. “Who are you, two-leg?”

“I’m sorry. I’m Markus, and this is Greg.” He indicated his trainer. “I’ve got some news for you that you may not like, Bertram.”

“I’m dead. I know. I was snatched up by a big cat. I don’t think she even chewed.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Bertram. The good news is you get to pick where you’re going from here.”

“Oh? Say more.”

“You get the option of going to a Paradise, a Rebirth into the world of the living, or Oblivion.”

“What’s Oblivion?”

“You die permanently. You cease to exist on any level of Reality.”

“Oh! I don’t like the sound of that. What’s Paradise like?”

Markus shrugged and opened his mouth, but Greg spoke first. “Wide fields. Tall grass to hunt in. Ample prey. Not needed, but available. You can sleep in peace there. Nothing to hunt you.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing, Two-leg! Send me there?”

Greg nodded. “Out. Left. Third left. First right. Speak to deer.”

“Thank you, Two-leg! Thank you, Markus!” Bertram bounded off the desk with a soft thump and ran to the open door, which shut behind him and locked.

“That’s the end of the shift, I suppose. I need to head to my office, Greg. I’ll talk to you a little later, okay bud?”

Greg nodded. “Be happy, Markus.”

Markus smiled at the shorter man. “You too, Greg. You too.” He walked over to the door, and opened it up to the hallway, his own office door in front of him. A leather office chair was sitting beside his door, with a note on it.

Markus,

Sorry about this morning. Here’s the chair I promised!

Enjoy,

Andy

He wheeled the chair inside behind his desk, then shut the door, and sent a message to Lucifer, letting him know he was available. Almost immediately, a knock sounded at his door. He sat down and cleared his throat.

“Come in!”

The door opened, revealing Lucifer, Greg, Dmitri, Cecily, Andy and Jenny. Markus looked up in shock. “Wha? Why’s everyone here, Lucifer?”

“My boy, you’ve had an emotional morning, have you not?” Markus nodded, and Lucifer continued. “I felt it prudent to arrange a small meeting with the colleagues you’ve already met and worked with. Maybe swap some tales? Show off your interface to your friends? I know you’re rather proud of that.”

Markus shrank inward a bit. “Yeah. I guess I kinda am.”

Dmitri and Greg walked over to the desk together. “So? You gonna show me this whiz kid desk or not, dude?”

“Alright, alright. If you wanna see my interface, come on over here. Greg, hop up onto the chair, so you can see better.” Jenny hung back with Lucifer as the rest of the group walked over behind the desk.

While Markus showed off his interface to his coworkers, Jenny crossed her arms, a slight smile on her face.

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Aduana?”

“You know me well, Asase Ya. I like this guy. I don’t want to see him run off or turned into something he’s not. Not like the last one.”

Lucifer sighed and his smile dropped a bit. “Not my best choice, was she? I couldn’t know that she would be overwhelmed in just a few short months. I do, most sincerely, apologize for that.”

Jenny chuckled softly. “No, friend. No need to apologize. You made the best decision you could at the time. Not everyone has their soul laid out for all to see.”

The pair stood there awhile watching Markus show everyone the things he could do with his interface.

“You have strong feelings towards him, don’t you?” Jenny murmured.

“Is it that obvious?”

“To me it is. I doubt the others have picked up on it.”

Lucifer sighed softly. “I do, Miss Aduana. He attracted my attention as a teen, and I’ve been watching since.”

“So long?”

Lucifer nodded. “It’s unusual, but yes. He was possessed of a most stalwart will even then, and it has only matured along with him.”

Jenny smiled. “And there he stands, smiling, laughing and showing off to his new coworkers and friends, even after the upset he’s had today. I won’t pretend to know what it was, nor will I pry, but he seems to bounce back rather quickly.”

“He is most exceptional in that regard. Not to mention the imagination he had to have had to come up with that design.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. I’m over four hundred years old, and my imagination isn’t that powerful.”

“Neither is Greg’s, Miss Aduana. Remember that he is well over a million. Remarkable that he is still going strong after all this time. Yet, of the lot of you, I think he may be the most adaptable.”

They watched for a bit longer as Markus showed them how to pull an image from a file, then took some requests for names.

“Man. I’ve not seen Tata in almost a hundred years. Thanks, Markus.”

“You’re welcome, Dmitri. Anyone else? Greg? Do you have any family you’d like to see again?”

The short man froze and looked fearfully at Markus. “Uhm…”

“It’s fine if not, Greg. I just thought I’d offer. Even a pet! I’m sure there was something in your past that you loved.”

Greg’s hand reached hesitantly toward the interface, then fell. “I’m… not sure, friend.”

The group went silent as they watched the short man’s shoulders droop. Lucifer took a step, but was halted by Jenny. He gave her a quizzical look.

Her soft voice reached his ears. “I think you may wish to see this, Asase Ya.”

“Greg, you’re among friends. If there’s someone or something in your past that you want to see, I’d love to help you. I’m pretty confident that my interface will help with that.”

“I… um. It’s not that. I don’t… can’t… remember.”

“Can’t remember? I thought we had better memories than most.” Markus glanced over at Lucifer, who nodded slightly.

“Do you know my age, Markus?”

“Your age? Well, I don’t know. We never discussed it.”

“I have seen too many summers, Markus. I remember when the lake called “Superior” wasn’t there, and I was already extremely old then.”

Markus stared at the small man. “Wait. You mean you’re that old?”

Greg nodded sadly and made to get down from the chair. Markus stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“No wonder. Everything makes more sense, now. I had no idea. Hang on, man. I have an idea.” Markus took out his phone and typed a few words into his browser. After a moment, he pulled up an entry on his interface.

It resembled a wolf, if you made it taller, heavier and shortened its snout a bit. Greg’s eyes lit up and he breathed a word: “Keek’la…”

“Keek’la? Was that the name of your wolf, Greg?” With a nod from the short man, Markus pulled a clip of Greg speaking the name. He made some quick swipes and searches, and after a few minutes, he pulled an image from a file.

A wolf-like creature spun slowly on his desk, and Greg nearly fell off his chair getting to it. “It’s her!”

Markus enlarged the image, letting her details come to light. “Is this how big she was, Greg?”

“No. She was much bigger. Missed.”

Markus scrolled through the file and smiled. “She’s here, Greg. Would you like to say hi?”

Greg’s face split into a wide smile. “I can see her?”

“Sure can. It says that she is right out of here, third left, eighth right.”

“I go. Now.” Greg shuffled down out of the chair and sped off out the door. Lucifer watched him leave, and gave Markus a calculating look.

Markus wiped the desktop clean of data, and sighed softly. “I hope it’s a good reunion.” He caught Lucifer’s eye, seeing a small smile on his face.

Dmitry watched the short man as he ran out of the office with a grin. “I’ve never seen him so excited. How did you know?”

Markus shrugged. “I didn’t know. I played to a guess, though. Greg may be incredibly old, and not quite the same ‘Human’ as the rest of us, but he’s not too dissimilar for all that. Near as I can tell,...

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1faryrf/a_hellish_offer_ch_45_final_chapter/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/finnegar on 2024-09-06 22:23:54+00:00.

Everything started when we couldn't find Jon Jr. for dinner. This wasn't itself an emergency, the farm's AI would have immediately alerted us if he wandered too far from home. There were only so many places a five year old could go on the only human settlement within 100 miles, after all.

But, when we still couldn't find him after searching the house, barn and maintainance bay, we began to worry. My wife started programing the drones into a search pattern over the fields and ran a diagnostic on the AI. I went to check the only other place I could think of, our tire swing near the creek.

As I turned the corner, I felt immediate relief to see my son in the swing. But, I was confused about what other child was pushing him. We three were the only ones on our farm and we weren't expecting a visit until after the--

I froze.

The other child--for whatever reason my mind knew it was a child--was much taller and more slender than my son, unnaturally so. The extremities didn't have enough fingers. Their hair looked 'wrong', somehow. And, most of all, their skin was unlike any shade seen on Earth.

There had been rumors about a possible indigenous species on Eden Prime, but only rumors. No biosigns or other evidence were found on the survey scans, so the first wave of colonization had started a year ago. Soon after, stories started spreading amoung the farming families: small items going missing, sensor ghosts in the forest, movement seen out of the corner of your eye, a drone found cracked open.

Before me was all the evidence anyone needed. An alien child, dressed in items from the forest, was pushing my son on the tire swing.

Instinctively, I started reaching for a weapon.

"Daddy, look how high I'm going!" cried my son. "Wheeeeeeeee!"

I moved my hand away from the weapon. I could see no threat here. Instead, I slowly pulled out my binoculars, set them to thermal and started scanning the forest a few hundred meters away.

There, on the edge of the forest, stood a much larger version of the alien with my son. I saw their own tension ease as I stoped moving towards their child.

I slowly raised my hand above my head in a wave. After a beat, the alien mimicked the gesture.

I sat and watched the children play for another few minutes. On some unheard cue, the other kid stopped pushing the swing and ran into the forest. By the time I got my binoculars out again to scan, there was nothing to see where the larger alien had been moments before.

I picked up my son and started walking back to the house for dinner.

"Daddy, can I play with my new friend again tomorrow?"

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PrestigiousString676 on 2024-09-06 22:06:52+00:00.

Florida Man: I swear officer I didn’t mean to blind em, I thought it was a traditional invitation, rather than him trying to get a better look.

Yokai police: Sir, even taking that at ass value, their is still the matter of the smiling woman, who mind you is in therapy after your frankly vulgar reply to a three worded question!

Florida Man: She asked for my honest opinion and I told her exactly what I thought of her appearance. She was definitely outa my league, figuring she must be interested in my Floridian charms I used an old pick up line my grandpapi taught me. Looking back I think it’s a little past it’s expiration date, and was probably why Gramgram fed Gramps to the swamp puppies.

Yokai police: What about the Kappa of Naka-gawa river who you sent to Kyushu universities ICU?! After he challenged you to a cordial sumo match to resolve your disagreement, than defeating him soundly, emptying his bowl in the process. After being defeated he requested you refill his bowl, and rather than walking two steps to the public fountain to procure water to refill the bowl as he requested…

You instead RELIEVED YOURSELF into his head-bowl! Causing him to nearly OD due to exposure to multiple unknown substances. He experienced vidid and horrifying hallucinations for nearly a week! Many of the compounds responsible are completely new to science and alchemy!

Florida Man: Now that my good sir was self defense! I was minding my own bees wax, when the biggest darn snapping turtle I ever did see hopped outta the water right in front of me.

He grabbed my fishin pole, knocked over my bait and started talking smack in sushi while pointing at a street sign and then at a wrestling ring.

When I tried to politely ask for my tackle back. (meaning a vulgar tirade of the most creative combination of cursing, coupled with threats of Cajun seasoning, turtle soup and other such dire culinary omens if the fishing pole was not promptly returned.)

he shoved me, pointed at the ring, popped a squat and smirked.

I took that personally, so we got at it, not gonna lie he was a tough som bitch, but ain’t no ninja turtle gonna beat me, Mama ain’t raised no city boi, she raised A FLORIDA MAN!!

Yoki police: oh then we shall not mention the TV Ghost, an international icon, who is refusing to exit a local shrine claming to have seen “true horror” after trying to scare what she called The “US terror”.

Florida Man: This is all a huge misunderstanding, the butt eye guy yes I was a little hasty and the kappoo feller well I thought my faucet would be cleaner than the tap since FL water is a little unreliable.

Now that Ghost lady I am mighty sorry about, popped right out my TV while I was walking around all oonaturall if ya know what I mean ‘wink wink’, anyway she got an eye full of all American made grade A prime BEEF! No offense officer, but poor woman must’ve never seen a man longer than - ( Sound of police radio chatter)

Yokai police:…… HE DID WHAT TO THE CAPYBARAS?!

Florida Man: I’d like a lawyer, preferably one specialized in FL International disputes.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KamchatkasRevenge on 2024-09-06 23:12:08+00:00.

The elevator was her first challenge. It was unguarded but there would be cameras everywhere. Then there was the matter of 'the combo'. It was the same across the entire Black Khans, a complex numerical series of passwords that were based on Cannidor numerology.

It changed every now and then, but the 'recognition' phrase was always the same, as was an 'identity' phrase for different girls who left their parent Khan's turf regularly. Jab considers the board, and punches the first recognition phrase in, a numerical representation of the founding alliance of organizations that became the Black Khans. Then her own recognition code.

The screen goes black, and Jab waits in the dim elevator for a moment, anxiety growing quietly in the pit of her stomach. If she'd been burned, if she wasn't supposed to survive the attack on the Crimson Tear, she'd be finding out right about now.

Instead the screen lights up again, and Jab quickly begins punching in the series of counter signs that become the 'combination' to access the hidden den of the Black Khans in this city.

In a few moments the elevator starts to slowly slide down into darkness, and Jab purges herself of emotions again. A simple axiom trick, but a critical one for the high stakes world she'd grown up in. Any emotion besides rage and hate could be perceived as a weakness and used by a rival or enemy. For that reason alone, Jab's playful attitude had always annoyed some of the older Khans, who felt she wasn't serious enough.

When she'd started pulling in big credits, they'd shut up, except for a few, muttering to each other behind her back.

The worst of those had finally shut up when Jab killed her. The back biter had picked a fight, lost, and Jab had taken what had been the other woman's and had been running with it ever since.

That's when she'd started getting real jobs and more responsibilities from Big Mama.

The Demon's waiting for her when the elevator doors open again, like she'd suspected. The guardian of the lair, an older Black Khan whose primary skill set was violence, the Demon was in charge of security for a Khan headquarters. Smaller bases had 'Terrors' occasionally, but without one of the bosses on hand, an actual Black Khan, most didn't bother to stand on ceremony.

The Cannidor warrior, scarred up and brutalized nearly beyond recognition, lightly sniffs Jab before snarling; "Search her." To her subordinates.

Jab's patted down briefly, her weapons cataloged, but not taken. They're searching for wires and recording materials.

"Heavy plasma pistol, sword, combat knife, boot knife. Nothin else."

Jab suppresses any hint of a reaction. They hadn't found her trump card, the Human style pistol hidden in the axiom tattoo on her thigh.

The Demon snorts approvingly.

"Fine. Come on. They're waiting."

"Whose waiting?"

"The Black Khan of the worlds of the Charocan, and head of the Cruelfang Cartel, Madame Cruelfang and you damn well better show proper respect pup, or I'll beat your ass so severely they won't even think you're a Cannidor when you get back to Coburnia's Rest. Pretty sure she's got your boss on the holo too."

Jab nods slowly, as if it was just information, but Cruelfang had already contacted Big Mama. Had they been waiting for her? Or had Cruelfang just called her fellow boss when one of Big Mama's girls had turned up on her doorstep?

She's led into a large throne room, something altogether more ostentatious than Big Mama's comparatively humble office. Differences in style, not so much status really.

Madame Cruelfang is a giant white furred Cannidor with what Jab figured was dyed white hair. She's got a few scars, and a rail cannon that was nearly as tall as some of the smaller Cannidor watching the proceedings leaned against her throne. There were a few guards in power armor lingering nearby, looking more like they were guarding an actual Khan of a warrior house instead of a queen of the underworld.

Big Mama is 'standing' nearby on a holo pad, conversing with the other woman amicably.

"Here's your girl now, Calra."

Cruelfang leans forward, her smile revealing the origin of her name. Her mouth was a mess of teeth growing at odd angles and positions. A normal Cannidor bite was devastating, but even a light bite from Cruelfang would be more akin to making minced meat than cutting anything.

"I just had to call when she ID'd herself. Wasn't expecting a guest. Or a messenger, no smuggling at the moment. So I was curious."

Big Mama smiles at Jab. "There's my girl! Like I told you Cruelfang, she's just on a little job for her Mama." Big Mama's face takes a more stern, aggressive turn, her eyes narrowing as her nostrils flare. "Though I'd like an explanation about why you stopped your check ins like I damn told you. I didn't give you that secure communicator just so it could gather dust."

Fire rushes through Jab's veins in an instant as she remembers her righteous indignation.

"I had to destroy it. The Undaunted were going to make me. Security tightened like crazy after the Hag's pirates tried to destroy the ship. I thought you said they weren't out to kill the Human! They were going to kill or enslave us all, I'm damn sure of it. Did you know when you sent me? There was a location beacon in that damn communicator wasn't there?"

Anger leaks into Jab's tone as she presses Big Mama. She probably wouldn't get the truth, but the type of lie would tell her a lot.

"Jab, Jab. I wouldn't just... throw you away like that. I wouldn't want you to die. It's me, your Big Mama we're talking about here. I don't send my girls into the shit like that, and I wouldn't just give you a secret location beacon, that'd be silly. Telling you would let you better handle the device and do your job. All I wanted was contact reports and information about the Undaunted, and you did a good job for me."

Big Mama was lying. What about exactly Jab couldn't tell, but she used that same sickly sweet tone she was using with her now whenever she was trying to pull one over on one of her girls... and once upon a time, Jab had bought this little routine.

"As to what happened, you can trust that I called the Hag and got some damn answers out of her as soon as I'd heard what happened. It wasn't part of the plan. Spontaneous operation. The Hag told me some of her girls got a little overexcited. Overzealous. Wanted to bring the Hag a rich prize. You're an ambitious girl after all, you can understand that right? Doing something impulsive in the name of getting what you want out of life?"

Jab wanted to laugh. She really wanted to laugh, because a few weeks ago... this would have worked on her, but now, for whatever reason, perhaps just time away among decent people. People who treated her well and actually respected her, she could tell it was so much bullshit.

"So... You okay letting bygones be by ones and taking another comm unit back aboard the ship? Once you finish this gig and we get our pay out... I've been needing a new lieutenant for the docks district. All yours. Just do this one little thing for me."

So many ways to respond, even as Big Mama dangled a juicy prize in front of her, dripping with fresh blood. The docks were a very lucrative district. It had a fair amount of girls and room to expand. Perfect for a new lieutenant to make her mark... and yet. Yes wasn't the answer that came to mind immediately. Instead it was telling Big Mama to shove it down her own throat or blow it out her ass, going for her field pistol and killing as many as she could, one of a billion answers... but instead things line up clearly in her mind and Jab pounces on a good path forward.

"...If you're finally gonna promote me. I'll do it." Jab bows to Madame Cruelfang. "Can I assume Madame Cruelfang's people will hook me up with the comm system? And let's skip the location beacon this time. If the Hag wants location data I can provide it, but we need to charge her extra. She wanted information, not pathfinding, and that makes this job a lot more dangerous."

Big Mama leans toward the Camera, all smiles now. "Oh Jab, of course sweetie. I'll make sure you get what your owed. Now… do you have any information you can give me now since your last check in? About damage to the ship? Numbers of pirates captured? Something about missile weapons?”

Jab’s mind flashes to the report she’d heard about the Tear being short on torpedoes and immediately discards giving Big Mama that information. There were some tidbits Jab could give her that wouldn’t be a problem, and maybe even lie here and there to give the Tear an advantage.

“Ten thousand per chunk of info.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Information’s got value. Twist the Hag’s nipples for twenty thousand a chunk and I want half up front.”

Big Mama’s eyes narrow. “...Fine. If it’s good enough info.”

“I got the goods. A lot of the Hag’s girls died in action. Those boarding torpedoes got ravaged. There was a girl from one of the fighter squadrons playing gun camera footage on her phone in the bar. It was a massacre. I heard from a maintenance girl that they converted a decent sized cargo bay to hold all the survivors and another one for the wounded. They’re all going to the Charocan. The Khan will get the ones she wants to keep, the rest will go to the council. Everyone involved in the action gets a slice of the bounty.”

Including Jab herself, but that little detail wasn’t something Big Mama needed either.

“Okay. Good. That’ll piss the Hag...

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"Put the women and children in and lower away."

-Second Officer Charles Lightroller, RMS Titanic-

"Càit a bheil sinn a’ dol, a mhàthair?"

Sorcha tried to ignore the question, it wasn't hers to answer anyway, but the thought lingered in her mind as well. 'Where are we going?' such bright young kids, not really understanding what had begun on Arran and looking to their parent for the answer. Mothers and Fathers hearing those innocent voices asking, and not having an answer themselves, trying to smile and placate their children.

"Na gabh dragh, tha a h-uile dad gu math."

The simple comforts of an assuring lie. Nothing was going to be fine and there were many things to be worried about, but the children didn't need to know that. At the very least, not right now. Once they were loaded and settled on the Merriweather and far from Arran. Then they could know the truth, a generation that would know the horror of war from a distance. There would still be pain, there would still be loss, there would still be tears shed, but they would survive.

"M'lady, the hold is full and everyone is strapped in."

Sorcha nodded to her lady in waiting and watched as she exited the transport before toggling the switch to close and seal the ramp. Beyond the safety line hung around the evac point, she could see the stoic vistages of mother and fathers. Her people, putting their faith and their futures in her hands and she hardened her own heart to hide the tears she wanted to shed.

vessel secure, ready for orbital transport

Rising from the small port of Rathlin she could make out a storm coming from the east, great white anvils of vapor supported by dark angry shadows where the bluish-green ocean was battered and bruised grey. Lightning tore through the clouds like skeletal hands searching madly for a life to steal.

"Well isn't that prophetic." Sorcha commented dryly.

"Still a few miles out Ma'am. Nothing to worry about yet." Her co-pilot replied.

"Nothing to worry about yet he says..."

Worry was all she knew since Robert and his Gallóglaigh had fought off a superior Dexian force a few days ago. She worried for her people who she had sworn to defend and protect. She worried about how her little island and the horrors that might be visited upon it. Most of all, she worried for that silly, shy young man who would stand in the face of any odds, and accept any losses as his own fault and burden to bear.

Sorcha pivoted her transport around until the standing stone was visible, a single massive needle of rock that seemed defiant to time, and the symbol of the people of Rathlin for centuries. Unyielding in the face of adversity, able to weather any storm and sea, proud and defiant to nature and human alike.

"Ma'am?"

Damn rock.

"Merriweather, this is transport oh-tree-seven-fife, in route with 137 souls aboard. Evacuation of Rathlin..."

It was rote to her, the words meaning nothing anymore as the battle raged in her heart. She could go, as a member of the Merriweather crew she had a duty to her ship and the opportunity to tend to the young, old and infirm aboard. Robert would want her safe and out of harms way as well. She could lead her people in exile and lobby for aid while the battle raged and she would be counted a dutiful leader of her people, a hero in the eyes of many.

And that damn rock would tormented her, even beyond her sight.

The Lady of Standing Stone and the rock of Rathlin, both resolute in the face of adversity. If she stayed she would fulfill her family legacy and cement herself in history forever, perhaps as the last of her line. She had rite and honor that she could call upon so Robert would never....

Damn that rock and damn that man!

She tried to push them both out of her thoughts as she moved to dock, but each stubbornly refused to leave. Both remained vigilant in the dark corners of her mind, silently demanding she choose between them. Both taunting her from a distance with the decision she had to make for herself and her people.

"And some think being of Nobility is easy." She said.

"Ma'am?" The co-polit asked, clearly confused.

"And damn you too for being in the wrong place at the wrong time!" She said facing the poor man who had attracted her ire.

/////

The storm had just begun to let slip its fury as Sorcha landed in the small port, her own rage a match for the storm and both seemed to focus at thw solitary figure that stood stubbornly as both broke against him. Robert stood seemingly unaffected by either, though the rain had soaked his uniform. Sorcha could have climbed through the view screen to strangle the poor drenched man, and tore out of the transport in a rage, eager to give him a piece of her mind.

"FECK YOU!" She screamed over a peal of thunder. "I KNOW WHY YOUR HERE AND YOU CAN BLOODY WELL FECK OFF AGAIN! YOU DON'T OWN ME!"

"You're right I don't." Robert replied calmly as the rain beat all around him. "I would have an easier time asking that big ass rock to move or demanding the storm to break."

The storm seemed to hold back its fury if only gor him to speak, but she knew what he was going to say before he could finish. Those words that she knew would cut to the bone and leave her wounded and helpless. She didn't need to hear them, they were written on his face, and struck her in the heart the moment he said them.

This silly, silly man. He would not ask her to go, he knew better. He would not ask her to stay either. He would simply strike her heart and force her hand. Damn him, and damn her own heart for giving itself to him.

"I only came to say I love you, I might not get another chance."

Her feet moved of their own accord, her arms flung wide to embrace him and her face buried itself in his sodden chest so didn't have to feel the tears fall from her eyes. For this moment all was good and pure and true. Regardless of the many battles she won over this man she always knew that one day the war would be lost.

"Marry me."

"What? Right now?"

The damned fool soldier, and herself the fool who would follow him merrily into hell.

"Yes you stupid ass, right now!"

"But..."

"Just shut the fuck up and carry me into the chapel Robert, they know what to do from there." Sorcha laughed.

Without another word, Robert picked her up and began to walk forward as Sorcha laughed like a woman gone mad.

"The other way," she said in a giggle "the chapel is behind you."

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2024-09-06 22:47:32+00:00.

First

(Sorry for the lateness, new oven finally came in and I can finally eat normally again!... But it took so long I need to get new ingredients. The ones I got last month have gone bad by now. But first I wasted WAY TOO MUCH time trying to figure out just how the oven controls work... I thought I was getting something exact but it’s just HI and LO. Good grief. That’s a whackload of minutes in the toilet.)

Elsewhere, With Others

“Captain, there’s something here on the scanners. I don’t know what I’m seeing exactly and it only shows up on thermals. Only vaguely.” Mister Wind states and Captain Ragni frowns.

“Do we have some kind of visual?”

“I can bring up the camera feed of the patch of space it’s in, but we’re not detecting anything.”

“On screen.” He orders. And while the view of alien stars is truly beautiful in it’s ethereal way. There is nothing there. Just the general blinking shining tapestry of starlight. Albeit not in any pattern Ragni finds familiar. The cost of sailing the stars, they always look so very different between looks.

The blinking pattern shifts ever so slightly and Ragni’s eyes narrow. “Focus in on the bottom left quarter. Something is there.”

The screen zooms in. In the distance there is a pale purple nebula with numerous bright white spots between them and it.

“Sir?” Mister Wind asks.

“I thought I saw...”

“Sir! I spotted it!” Mister Wind says and quickly the image zooms in again. Then it’s much clearer, something dark is blocking out a star then moving on before semi-blocking the view of another. It’s clearly artificial. “It matches up perfectly with the thermal signature.”

“So we have guests...” Captain Ragni says before tapping a few controls on his Command Couch. “Consultant! On the bridge! We have something strange here.”

“Prep for teleportation.” Harold replies.

“Confirmed, you won’t be shot if you just appear.”

“Thank you sir.” Harold says as he’s suddenly there. There is a sensation of something... other. A not sound that Captain Ragni clearly did and yet did not hear. “Potential hostile?”

“Possible. They’re skulking about.”

“Hmm... not hostile but suspicious as it gets.” Harold notes as he slinks through the bridge to stand behind Mister Wind. “Do you mind me being here?”

“I do, but I’ll put up with it, this could be bad.”

“Thank you for your patience.” Harold says as he watches the distortion. “Well it certainly is a starship, it just changed it’s flight pattern.”

“Yes, that much is obvious.” Mister Wind notes.

“At this range our sensors won’t be able to determine much more about it without possibly alerting our skulking friends.”

“And do you have any actually useful insights?”

“In a moment, if it passes in front of that slight extension of the nebula...” Harold begins before chuckling. “Okay, that sucker is considerably smaller than The Inevitable. It’s general shape suggests it’s a frigate for lack of a better term. This thing is fast but not well armoured. However, it can have all sorts of Axiom surprises.”

“If it attacks what are our options?” Captain Ragni asks.

“Flack and chaff are our best solutions if it’s hostile. Standard shielding in the galaxy is geared towards lasers and plasma and a frigate like this won’t have the sheer bulk to resist something like rail shot or even just some well aimed missiles or torpedoes. We hit a ship like this kinetically and the whole vessel feels it and loses a great deal of its combat capacity.”

“Hmm... makes one wonder why kinetics aren’t more widely used.”

“Cost primarily. Lasers are basically free after installation and plasma rounds are compressed, agitated, and magnetically bottled gasses which any nearby world or even just a bit of light asteroid mining can get you by the kiloton. Both burn through ships well enough while leaving a good chunk intact for capture or salvage despite taking them down, but a kinetic attack rips things apart and you have to carry the ammo which to be truly useful needs further refinement and manufacture.”

“Sensible. Furthermore the lack of proper atmosphere means that the lasers and plasma attacks have a truly respectable range.” Captain Rangi notes.

“Correct captain.” Harold notes. “So do we kick this potential beehive?” He asks and Captain Rangi considers for a few moments.

“No, but I want to know where that thing is at all times.” Rangi states.

“Fair enough. I’ll be putting my team on alert in case things start getting exciting.”

“See to it Consultant.” Captain Rangi states and Harold salutes before teleporting out.

“We need a way to block that.” Mister Wind notes.

“We do, however any modification to the ship has to done by officially sanctioned engineers.” Captain Rangi says with a sigh as he starts to feel the red tape outright strangling him.

“And they can only use technologies and techniques properly studied by the appropriate approved scientists.” His communications officer Mister Shen adds.

“And THEY cannot approve of a subject unless they have a legally recognized Higher Education accreditation in it.”

“And no non-Earth University or Collage is legally recognized as appropriate accreditation. Meaning Axiom based studies are OUT.” Mister Wind finishes.

“I know. I know. It’s a clusterfuck. However, I’ve been speaking with Observer Wu, we’re finding loopholes.”

“Maybe sir. But every day I’m out here the more I understand why the first ship went Rogue.”

“It’s not hard to figure out. You teach people to beat anything and then tie them down and of course they’re going to break out.” Captain Ragni states. “But our duties are our duties, no matter how understandable The Undaunted are they’re still a potential problem. We take their measure and go home.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, keep me updated on that ship. I want a report every five minutes unless it’s status changes.”

“Yes sir.” Mister Wind notes.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“So potential hostiles? None confirmed? Var’Yania asks.

“No, but a ship skulking at the edge of sensor range, without it’s IFF, transponder or communications on is suspicious as all hell.” Harold states.

“If we were in a patrol ship we’d already be hailing those people.” Suri’Char, a very distant relation to Brin’Char, says.

“Not all of us worked as officers before oh dear sister in battle.” Larl’Hren says.

“Not much to recommend to it. A lot of red tape as humans call it. Also there’s just so many Platen working in it. It’s almost a parody.”

“Is it true that if you scare them really badly they curl up into armoured balls?” Larl’Hren asks.

“I can answer that one, and the answer is no. At least, not adults. They’re too big for it.” Harold says holding his arms out as if containing a sizable bust. “The little girls though? They can do it.”

“Oh... would that mean a well mated mother could also do so?”

“Yes, but they still make breathing hard.” Harold answers.

“And how do you know this?”

“I have the memories of a high rank Intelligence Officer. The sheer amount of nonsense that goes across Herbert’s desk is enough to casually gain an understanding about just about anything. Not a deep understanding I will admit, but an understanding none the less.”

“Consultant.” Harold’s communicator activates and he taps it.

“Present Captain.”

“We’re being scanned on a low profile, it’s paying attention to the more inhabited parts of the ship. We suspect that they’re about to do something. Give me insights.”

“Inhabited areas, low profile ship, in unpatrolled space and... We may have slavers or pirates. I’m going to spread my team and myself into those areas being scanned so we might intercept any incoming or outgoing teleports. Tell your men to be on guard and ready to rumble at any moment.”

“Boarding teleportation. Well that’s an issue.”

“And takes very specific materials or shielding to block.” Harold says. “I’m going to get moving now, Jameson out.”

He puts the communicator on standby and looks to his squad. “Well you all overheard that, spread out among the ship and be ready for interception. Banshee, Eve, do you two know how to...”

They teleport behind him and he turns with a smirk. “Good. You have your orders. Carry them out soldiers.”

He begins moving. If the other ship was probing them then they were about to do something. The question is, what and when?

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

The answer was, teleport kidnap someone and the when was in five minutes.

Harold had intercepted the sensation and had introduced himself to the kidnappers with an Axiom infused dropkick that cratered the chest plate of mechanized armour and sent the battlesuit slamming into the far wall after knocking over two of it’s fellows like bowling pins and sending them careening into waiting forces.

“You’ve done it now!” He calls out. His communicator goes off as he grabs a blasting stun cannon with the electricity parting against his palm before pulling it, and the mechanized armour holding it, over his head and slamming it to the ground.

“Too much! They’re too much! Send him back! SEND HIM BACK!” Someone screams out before he feels things invert and the ceiling lights up. Slaps his left hand over his pant’s pocket and a single device is gone. He’s then teleported back into the forward mess hall and still has the cannon going off against his palm as he arrives.

“Hunh... firing mechanism’s stuck. Hang on.” He ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Ralts_Bloodthorne on 2024-09-06 22:06:42+00:00.

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [Wiki]

Of course they give us camo sticks to paint our faces with. What's the fuck-fuck circus without the clowns. - SFC Bit.nek, 12th Telkan Marine Division, 35 2PW

Vak-tel and the rest of the Kilo Company were advancing with long loping strides that allowed the armor to clear five meters a step without their heads popping up too high, something they'd learned well until it was burned into muscle memory during the intense eVR training.

The air only ten meters up was full of flickering coherent energy, hyper-velocity kinetic rounds, missiles, rockets, chaff, and just about everything else that the modern battlefield so generously supplied to troops.

Vak-tel stumbled on a chunk of ferrocrete, making an odd looking hop that was almost instinct in order to regain his balance before he landed on his face and skidded. Moving at just shy of seventy kph meant he had to be careful.

BACTACNET saw something and fired two rockets from the pack he was wearing.

--jamming picking up-- 621 said from inside the engineer protective housing that was part of the combat pack Vak-tel was carrying.

"Quantum compromised?" Vak-tel asked.

--negative standard band compromised magic band partially jammed-- 621 reported.

Behind Kilo Company two more Chernobog class cyborgs had joined in ripping apart the BOLO, which had decided to engage its tracks and start to reverse.

Which didn't help when you were the size of a small stadium and your foes were standing on your forward and back decks.

NETWORK OVERRIDE appeared in his vision and he cursed as his power armor went unresponsive and sluggish feeling. The bounding arcs started going up higher, speed picked up. Vak-tel noticed that suddenly all the channels were locked out, preventing him from speaking to anyone at all, even his squad member. The company spread out, the gaps between the armor getting larger as it went from a single double-arm interval skirmish line to a four deep checkerboard formation.

No word for why from the Kilo Company chain of command.

His rocket launcher started chuffing out rockets that kicked in their solid fuel boosters a few meters from the launch, creating a white streak in the air. His grenade launcher started kicking out rounds straight up, a steady thump of them.

His armor wasn't telling him what it was doing.

"Buddy, what's going on?" he asked.

--tac-net override on launchers rockets who knows maybe point defense grenades participating in drone saturation attack-- 621 said. --heat and slush rising fast orders coming too fast not able to deploy cooling fins due to ir blackout--

"Great. Keep me posted," Vak-tel said.

Kilo Company was spreading out and passing another set of drop pods that were all reconfiguring. At first Vak-tel's armor was telling him that the occupants of the drop-pods would be merging with Kilo Company's checkerboard advance line but then his HUD blinked and the reticles vanished.

This shit better not get me killed, Vak-tel thought.

0-0-0-0-0

Major Shimmering "Bobby" Drop-Tables was a Digital Sentience, hashed and raised in the Hamburger Kingdom's code arenas. She had trained to be electronic warfare until she was lean and mean, a electronic warfare killing machine.

She was proud as hell to be part of the task force heading into Ornisplap space to assist them against someone using her people's technology.

Which is why she was standing just on the safe side of the task force's 'firewall' and watching the EW battlefield take shape.

Gravity and radiation and radio signals created the terrain of the battlefield, with the polar solar winds of the stellar system forming the sky above and molten rock beneath. The magnetospheres of the planets were storms. The surge of gravity and radiation created hills and valleys.

Ships moved through the terrain, each of them a platform for attacks and defenses.

The planets were mostly cold, dark, and dead, just their radiation and electromagnetic output creating storms on the battlefield. The Van-Allen Belts were bands of instant death that howled and pulsed.

Electronic warfare systems lit off, filling the battleground's terrain in her vision with firing arcs, artillery shells, rockets, missiles, even slow moving tanks. Warbois flooded from the Solarian Iron Dominion vessels, screaming their warcries as they charged across a battlefield that was no less real even though it had no physical presence. Attack programs loaded into drones to get them closer were launched from the Confederate vessels.

Electronic Countermeasures began spinning up, fog and smoke beginning to obscure the battlefield. Enemy ships and the massive amount of EW platforms on the fourth and fifth planets started to flicker and vanish as the counter-measures began to take effect.

Major Tables watched as the Electronic Counter-Counter-Measures went active. Searchlights spearing through the smoke and fog, ranging pings of electronic 'sonar' were visible concentric circles spreading out, the tight beam of radar, LIDAR, and even more esoteric systems.

Major Tables noted that the Confederate ships used completely different bandwidths, that they had more powerful and more sensitive sensor systems. The enemy's ships were getting pinged and attacked and Major Tables noted that it looked like the enemy ships were trying to spoof out old Confed codes.

Missiles were reaching broadcast range, the subspace communications systems that allowed for instant communication were switched into attack/defend mode, and other esoteric systems were coming online.

Squinting slightly, Major Tables watched as the enemy's active warfare daemons and smartframes erupted into existence and came in hot against the 'firewall' put up the by the fleet.

"Here they come," she warned her subordinates.

She narrowed her eyes when three things happened.

The dumbframes shattered on the firewall or were eliminated by counter-measures.

The lower end daemons and the smartframes hit the firewalls and stopped. Rather than attacking, probing at the ports and firewalls, they turned into either orbs or little nodes full of spikes.

The high end daemons hit the firewall and stopped. Rather than chew on it, rake at it with claws, or skitter around looking for an opening, they stopped.

She vanished and reappeared next to LT(JG) Recursive Strobing Sunset, who was watching the firewall's algorithm and countermeasures. On the other side of the glittering wall were orbs, spiked little objects, and the daemons.

"Fence me in. There's something weird and I want a look at it," Tables ordered.

LT(JG) Sunset nodded, bringing up a datafence around Major Tables.

Tables opened a thin pipe from an orb she held in her hands to the firewall, pushing the pipe through. One of the spiked crystalline objects sucked through the pipe and into the orb she held.

It was a smartframe. She looked it over. Standard Old Confederate coding. The attack algorithm was strange, almost like the core strings were randomly generated.

Those values actually mean something, you can't just use random generation, she thought. She looked it over.

She found it deep in.

PROPERTY OF BOBCO MILITARY SOFTWARE DIVISION (8639 PG)

She armored the orb and tossed it to MILINT.

"Get counter-warfare on that," she ordered. She extended the pipe again and pulled in an orb.

It just sat there, jiggling and shivering, and she carefully looked it over.

SYNTEK EW DIVIONS (8721 PG)

She tossed that one too.

"OK, cover me," she ordered.

The four digital combat troops nodded and LT(JG) Sunset looked uncertain, but still nodded.

She widened the pipe, shortening it. She kept the globe in one hand as she created a one-way opening in the firewall next to an enemy daemon program.

It was hugging the wall, rubbing its face on it, its eyes closed, its mouth full of sharp jagged broken-off teeth open in a dim-witted smile, its claws just rubbing the firewall.

She shifted the opening.

The daemon saw it and hopped through.

It's a warboi! she thought.

It came straight at her, hopping up and down and screeching.

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi

She saw that its claws were retracted. The screeching was happy rather than the code shivering scream of an attack.

hi hi hi hi hi hi wheeeeeee

It jumped at her and she caught it, pushing away the reflex to smack it away.

It rubbed its face on her.

mommy mommy mommy mommy

She cradled it, knowing she was risking getting gutted if it went feral. She rolled it over and looked at its face.

sissy mommy sissy mommy sissy mommy hi hi hi hi goodboi goodboi goodboi mommy mommy mommy

She tickled its belly and it squirmed and giggled. She saw snarled code and tickled it, making the warboi giggle. The code straightened out.

Random code strings for algorithm detection. Junk code in the system.

"Aw, you got a tummy ache?" she asked, tickling it again.

mommy mommy mommy mommy

She found it. The hash strings. The ID of the ship where the warboi had been fast-grown in EW baked salted carmel rainbow hash table, and the ID of creche-lab itself.

She looked at Sunset.

...

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Eldrin’s arm pulls me tight to his chest, my legs dangling below me as I am lifted from the ground. His crushing embrace makes it difficult to breathe. He falls to his knees, still squishing me as he weeps openly. My feet barely kiss the ground as I am still suspended in his hug as he clings to me as if I am his last anchor.. I free one of my arms and reach around him to try and pat his back comfortingly, only able to reach the outside of his shoulder blade. This sets him off into deep guttural wails as he fully breaks down.

“I…I killed ‘im” He wheases out between ragged sobs.

“No you did not.” I whisper back, still trying to be comforting, with reduced lung capacity.

“I di’, I was ta kee’ th’ fire goin’, and I failed me one task”

“No one should have expected you to keep the fire going by yourself for a week! If anything, it was not you, but everyone here that failed you. No one checked in on you, did they? The one keeping them all from freezing to death?” I ask, breaking from whisper into a quiet discussion.

“Nnnoo. But-”

“No ‘buts’! Everyone here has a responsibility to keep everyone going. No one checked on you just like no one checked on Theron until the worst outcome has come to pass.”

“But i’ was ma job, me one thing ta do!” He states, releasing me and looking me in the eye. I shudder from seeing him slightly perturbed and looming over me, even as he kneels.

“Just because it is your job, does not mean it defines you. You could have called on someone to keep watch as you slept, or done it in shifts, or someone should have assigned themselves to look after the fire as well. Hell, where I am from, you would have about 10 guys all wanting to help poke the fire, bunch of pyros we are.”

He gently laughs through the hiccups of grief, but then turns serious again. “Sti’, maybe if I jus’”

“Stop thinking that way!” I shout. “Yes, Theron is gone, but it is not one person’s fault that he is dead! I know you think you are responsible, but a week without sleep is insanity for anyone!” Seeing people looking towards me, I see that it is time to try and rally them so they don’t kick Eldrin out, as I see the rumor mill already turning. Shifting the focus to the crowd, I start:

“Look, we can spend the next week blaming each other for who is the most responsible and then ignore it, or we can actually look at what happened systematically.” Remembering Rafiki from the Lion King, I continue: “The past can hurt. But you can either run from it, or learn from it. Right now, I see a village worth of people trying to survive the winter, but with effort, cooperation, and a little knowledge that I possess, we can thrive!”

I see heads turn, and even the people in the kitchen come out to see what is going on

“Looking around, I see people that are stalled out, lost and alone, and this is even in the church! We need to rebuild our sense of community, to work cooperatively and have it so no one fends for themselves? How many of you are hunters?” About twenty hands go up. “Ok, and how many of you hunters are also crafters at the same time?” All of them lower their hands. “See! Yet you wear clothes, eat vegetables, and live in a house! You rely on each other, so why not rely on each other more, and work towards a better standard of living?”

“But what standard are you measuring against?” Someone shouts from the back.

Taking a breath, I debate internally on how to share this information, trying not to compromise who I am, but then decide to tell it all.

“I am not from here… I don’t know how far I have travelled, or even where I am, but where I am from, water is pumped directly into houses, wastewater is automatically removed and cleaned, fires are dealt with by a select group dedicating their lives to prevention and extinguishing, healthcare and injury is the responsibility of the community, and heat and power are directly available and maintained. Outages for any of these are considered a major issue, and are regulated to ensure a certain amount of up time, usually over 99.9999% and caused by storms.”

“I do not know all of this information on how this works, but this little brick here” I gesture to my phone “touches all of the knowledge of my people, not to the full depth of what is available, but introduces all topics we know. This knowledge was freely available to me, and now I want it free to all of you, to boost your living here, and so that temperature is not a concern in the winter.”

“In the scriptures we cherish, it's written in Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.’ This isn’t just about survival. It’s about thriving together, supporting each other. What happened here—it’s a call to action. A reminder that we are stronger together than apart.”

I scan the faces around us, seeing the flicker of understanding, of agreement, kindling in their eyes.

“This technology,” I gesture again to my phone, “is a testament to what humanity can achieve when we work together, when we share knowledge and build on it. Here, in this community, you have the chance to embody the best of what that represents. Not just to survive the winter, but to thrive in all seasons.”

I let the words hang in the air for a moment, the crackle of the fire punctuating my pause.

“You are blessed with strong wills and stronger bonds. Now, you need joy and hope. Let's renew our focus on God and the future, as one. By learning about the Creator through His creation, by embracing the innovations that can make our lives better, we honor Him. We honor the gifts He’s given us by using them to their fullest potential.”

The murmurs of agreement begin to weave through the crowd, a tapestry of resolve and newfound purpose beginning to form.

“Together, let us build a community that not only survives but flourishes. Let’s create a place where the fire of innovation warms everyone, not just those who tend the flames. A place where every person, young and old, knows they are part of something greater. Where every effort is valued, and no one has to bear the burden alone. This is our call to action—our call to faith, hope, and love, expressed through the works of our hands and the bonds of our community.”

The gathering around us nods, some faces lit with the first smiles I've seen in days, as the weight of isolation begins to lift. Together, we look towards a future where faith and innovation walk hand in hand, guided by the divine light of understanding and the warmth of communal support.

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Patreon Because someone asked

Note: open to ideas for next, many ways this can go, don't want to stand in another hornet's nest. I burned my backlog so it may be a bit before the next one as well

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ralo_ramone on 2024-09-06 20:29:44+00:00.

Icy tendrils invaded the arena, and the air froze to the point that it was painful to breathe. The crowd's screams flooded my senses. Thousands fought to exit the arena through the western side. The crowd huddled together as the rime conquered ground, and the mass of people turned into a stampede that invaded the arena.

“Firana!” I yelled as the stampede wallowed her.

A screech pierced my ears, and I felt my body getting numb as a sickly yellow mana surrounded me. Over my head, a flock of Undead Harpies flew in circles. I tried to move, but my vision darkened.

“Discharge mana!” Holst yelled across the pavilion.

The spell constricted my mana pool, but I had magic to spare. With a blue flare, the binding spell disappeared, and my vision returned to normal. Most of the spectators were paralyzed or lay on the ground. The harpies dove into the defenseless crowd.

Firana shot a wind gust from the tip of her sword, destabilizing the monsters and forcing them to scramble. The rime continued gaining terrain, reaching the unconscious bodies of the spectators who had fallen behind. Elincia siphoned my mana and released herself from the spell. Then, she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the weapons rack. She grabbed a bow and pointed at the harpies as mana surged through her body. The arrowhead shone bright, and like a tracer bullet, it stuck to a harpy’s side. The creature screeched and turned towards us, seemingly unharmed.

Undead Harpy Lv.12 (Corrupted).

“Damn undead,” Elincia said as she nocked the next arrow.

Ilya appeared by my side and grabbed a small bow.

A wave of Ice Wraiths soared over the inner wall into the arena. Zaon and Wolf remained paralyzed by the undead harpy spell, and so did the crowd. This was about to get ugly. I used Mana Manipulation and summoned my mana blade.

“Aim for the wing bones,” Holst calmly said, grabbing an arming sword and a wooden round shield. “Or not.”

Prince Adrien jumped down the VIP box with an old iron sword in his hand and strolled to the middle of the arena at a leisurely pace. Mana surged through his body, and the illusion surrounding the sword shattered. Where a moment earlier was an old piece of metal, now was a slender red sword with shining runes all over the blade. Energy pulsated from the weapon like it was a living being, but I had to look away and tone down my mana sense.

“Baram’s Cursed Runeblade,” I muttered.

Sensing the strength of the sword, Firana decided it was a good idea to move away. Energy crackled around the blade, sending red sparks and electric arcs all around the Prince. The hair on my arms stood on its ends as I watched the scene in awe. Ice Wraiths and Undead Harpies saw Prince Adrien still standing and pounced on him. They didn't get to touch him. Prince Adrien raised the sword, and a storm of red and white lightning enshrouded the arena. The sun dimmed, the day seemed to become night, and the sword screeched.

I tried to channel a shield spell in front of the pavilion, but my mana didn’t react. Where there was a deep pool of mana inside my chest, now was a black hole. I focused. Mana Manipulation, Awareness, Minor Illusion, there was nothing there but a void as if someone had ripped the System away from my body and mind. Even Identify stopped working.

Thunder exploded in the center of the arena, and every last trace of mana disappeared. When I opened my eyes, there was no sign of the undead monsters or the ice area spell, only Prince Adrien with the sword on high, the sleeve of his jacket torn apart, and the black tentacles of Corruption running under his skin. I blinked, unsure if my eyes were showing the truth, but the Corruption seemed to be ripped out by the sword before the Prince put it inside the sheath once again.

[Awareness] set off all the alarms in my brain, but I ignored them. There were no monsters left, and the spell that kept the crowd paralyzed was lifted. The invasion hadn’t finished yet. Undead Harpies and Ice Wraiths still soared through Farcrest’s skies, and [Awareness] made me notice the distant sounds of combat. Royal soldiers entered the arena, and the Fortifiers cast a barrier around the inner wall.

“We need to return to the orphanage,” I said.

“A bunch of small monsters is nothing for Captain Garibal’s barriers, so unless the main gates are overrun, the orphanage is safe. The most dangerous thing right now is the people,” Janus said, sword in hand and putrid viscera covering his arm to the elbow. He pointed his sword toward the exits where Guardsmen were helping the victims of the stampede.

Where had he come from? I assumed he had blinked in.

The orphanage was far from helpless. Thanks to the ‘stalker’ situation, we had two veteran Guardsmen, Captain Garibal, and a royal soldier watching over the manor. There was also Loki, Astrid, and Risha. I hoped Loki was awake. I knew Janus was right, but a part of me wanted to keep everyone together so I could look over them. Zaon and Wolf were vulnerable against the Harpy's paralyzing screech, so it could be dangerous to take them to the streets. The Great Hall was the safest place for them at the moment.

“Go help the guardsmen, kids. If there is anyone gravely wounded, use this,” Elincia said, handing them her potion pouch.

The kids nodded and Ilya guided them out of the pavilion. Over our heads, a flock of undead harpies gnawed on the Fortifier’s barrier, but after a moment, they decided it was an impenetrable obstacle and flew away. The nobles in the VIP box were unfazed by the scene.

Captain Kiln finished giving orders to a group of guardsmen and entered the pavilion.

“Why so pale, Rob?” She greeted me.

“Not fond of the undead,” I replied, unable to find the source of her good mood.

“Don’t glare at me. This is just another Monday near the frontier,” she shrugged. “The city is prepared for a small undead incursion, and there’s the royal army outside the walls.”

Magic arrows and spells crossed the sky into the flocks of Undead Harpies and Ice Wraiths. Whatever skirmish was happening outside the wall, it didn’t look like a small incursion. Elincia, at least, seemed calm. She put the bow on her shoulder and watched the surroundings. The Fortifier’s barrier was unscathed.

Prince Adrien was chatting with the other nobles back at the VIP box, but I had a bad feeling. The Corruption spot in my chest gripped my flesh, and it wasn’t because of the cold. It tugged me like the ring on my finger pulled me towards Elincia.

“The Lich is alive,” I said.

Captain Kiln put one of her heavy hands on my shoulder and gently squeezed it. “I understand you are worried about the kids, Rob, but it’s just an incursion. It happens at least once a year. Even little kids know what to do.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like forming a stampede?”

In the arena, healers tended to the civilians hurt in the panic.

“They are trained to run indoors and close doors and windows, so I guess that was what they attempted to do,” Captain Kiln sighed.

“I’ll go check on the orphanage, then. Don’t let the kids get out of the barrier,” I said, grabbing a sword from the weapons rack and putting it in my belt.

“I’ll go with you,” Elincia replied, her mask of composure cracking.

Captain Kiln squeezed my shoulder a bit more. “The streets can be dangerous.”

“You said citizens are trained to get indoors. I think by now, everyone is locked under seven keys,” I replied. “Besides, a couple of low-level flyers will not be a problem for me.”

Captain Kiln let me go.

Maybe, the Lich’s electric blue eyes were only a trick of my mind due to the traumatic event. I tried to not think about it: Elincia getting struck by the orc spear, the Lich injecting Corruption into my body, the ceiling of the cave collapsing over my head. It had been too close of a call for all of us, and the memory still haunted me in my dreams.

“Let’s remain vigilant. Even if it is just a small incursion, we shouldn’t lower our guard,” I said, walking through the pavilion’s entrance. Elincia followed.

My fast pace alerted the kids, and they abandoned their jobs and jogged to meet me.

“Where are you going?” Ilya asked.

“The orphanage. I’m going to see if everything is in order,” I replied.

“We are coming with you,” Firana said.

“No, you are going to stay inside the barrier near Captain Kiln. The streets are dangerous.”

The irony in my words didn’t go over my head. My policy as a teacher was to be as fair and just as possible, but as a caretaker, the kid’s safety was more important than anything else. I was about to continue my way when the ground trembled, and a vine slowly crept around my ankle.

“Very funny, Ilya, but we don’t have time for this,” I sighed.

“What? I agree inside the barrier is safer for us. I’m not doing anything,” the girl replied.

The vine gripped my ankle, and the thorns buried deep in my flesh. Firana unsheathed her sword and severed the vine. I grunted as I pulled it from my skin like the suction cups of an octopus’ tentacle. The vine was rotten like the flesh of the undead.

“Undead plants? I muttered, but before I could get an answer, the ground trembled again.

Hundreds of rotten vines emerged from the ground, some thin as whips, others thick as old trees. The vines slithered out of the ground, getting intertwined and forming strong muscle-like braids. I wasn’t going to wait to see what undead abomination they were going to shape, so I summoned my mana blade and cut the nearest vine.

I us...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/YukiteruAmano92 on 2024-09-06 20:22:32+00:00.

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---Parliament---

---Brathala’s perspective---

I hate them…

I truly, truly hate them!

This species of brutes and savages who have the audacity to look down their noses at the rest of us and simper and patronise!

Or, should I say, ‘these’ species?!

Because the one species of hellspawn that arose on that forsaken rock didn’t have the decency to come to the stars alone, did they!?

They brought with them their abominations of animals, bioengineered for sapience without the loss of any of their strength, speed or natural weaponry (because the relatively slow, weak and naturally unarmed primates weren’t terrifying enough, apparently(!)), their monstrosities of artificial intelligences that they alone seem to possess the secret to keeping sane and their savage cousins resurrected from periods when the most advanced weapons this species had available were made of stick, stone and bone!

Oh… if only we’d found them then!

If only our predecessors had had the chance to stain their hands with the blood of a few hundred thousand of these people’s primitive forebears and spare us the need to fight a War with them when they’d grown to a point that they could win it!

One of these primitive cousins sits across the chamber from me, on the other side of the aquatic species’ pool.

The first one of their representatives to be anything other than the regular breed of Terran… but this man is cast from the precise same mould as the last one in his personality if not his body!

This ‘Tshwane’ (unnaturally tall and slim for a planet with such high gravity) is exactly the same mix of smug selfsatisfaction and infuriating calm that Mudaliar was!

I hate it!

When I and those I align with shriek accusations at them and they respond with that calm of theirs, we look like the unreasonable ones!

If only… if only the rest of the galaxy could see them for what they are… could see that that calm is nothing more than a mask, a front to obscure the greed, ferocity and lust for power that lies within all of them!

The Terran plays at friendship until you have let your guard down.

At some point, the thought of being anything other than a submissive slave to them can’t even occur to you anymore!

That’s the method they used to enslave the livestock of their homeworld and the one they used to assimilate their cousins out of existence… only to clone them back to be assimilated all over again!

And it’s what they’re trying to do to us!

It’s easy for them to seem magnanimous when they hold so much power!

Any occasion on which nonTerrans share a room with a Terran who doesn’t choose to brutalise them the way no one could stop, many will leave that room thinking ‘Oh! Terrans might not be as bad as I thought!’ but it’s a lie! A ruse! Aimed at nothing less than getting the galaxy to let its guard down to the point where no one has the power to stop them seizing control!

Just look at the power they’ve already amassed in the not even [4 decades] since they were first discovered!

After humiliating us in that ‘Peace’ of theirs, they immediately split Parliament into two factions; them and their allies against those of us still trying to resist their insidious political machinations!

This manner of division is, as far as I’m aware, unprecedented in GU history!

They pick and choose which rules to follow and which they think are too inconvenient with an amount of brazen licentiousness unrivalled by any other species!

In fact, they will often try to convince us that the laws they choose to ignore are unjust and should be repealed, as they did with the law against AI!

The longer I’ve known of these deathworlders, the more convinced I am that their planet’s gods created them as nothing more than a mass extinction that they then lost control of!

Bored of wiping the slate clean with asteroids, volcanos, ice ages and the ilk, the foolish, arrogant deathworld deities decided it would be so much fun to do it with a sapient species this time!

Only, right as they were about to fulfil their divine destiny, they realised that doing so would kill them too and had just enough intelligence to pull themselves back from the brink!

These barbarians are, without question, the single most powerful species in the galaxy, both in terms of hard, military power and softer, cultural influence!

Despite my brother banning the import of any and all Terran products to Battan worlds, there is a thriving trade in smuggled Terran goods and an utter epidemic of our people circumventing our galnet restrictions to watch Terran films, read Terran literature and listen to Terran songs!

The most infuriating thing of all about Terrans, however… is the extent to which all of them are committed to maintaining the ruse of finding the rest of us. oh. SO. ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’!

Smaller, furrier, ‘friend shaped’ species like mine receive the worst of it but, truly, none are safe!

It doesn’t matter how logically repulsive they should find your species’ physiology, you’ll find Terrans out there willing to look at you and declare you the ‘cutest patootie’, in the most patronising way you can imagine!

It makes my blood boil!

Oh! And the less said about their concept of the ‘smash or pass’ list, the better!

I shudder just thinking about it!

I almost wish no one had disabused me of the misapprehension I had had that the trend was that of Terrans looking at our species and deciding which they would desire to visit crushing violence upon and which they did not!

The truth was, somehow, worse!

I look to my right where, a few seats away, I see Kaksat… a one time friend turned bitter rival!

When I first arrived at Parliament, a much younger woman, the Lanatkser Representative took me under her arm.

She guided me through those early years to a much greater extent than my predecessor or advisors at the embassy!

We bonded over so many things and stood as allies on so many issues.

It was when the War began that we first started to drift apart, her misplaced sympathy for the deathworlders driving a wedge between us.

After the Peace, any hope for a reconciliation was dashed when she became part of the proTerran faction and her kind sought an ever closer and closer relationship with theirs.

Of all the betrayals I’ve suffered, of all the representatives I watched disengage from the real issue of this age (that deathworlders have no place in the political institutions built by and for gardenworlders), of all those I’ve watch become ensnared by the honeyed words of the Terrans, none have stung quite like hers did!

I wrest my mind from the ruins of that friendship as I see the speaker making her way along the catwalk, passing over the surface of the aquatheatre below us, the fresh water section on her left, salt on her right.

She stands around [3m] tall, having a spindly, low gravity build, digitigrade legs with long cannons that are thicker than any other part of her body, and three hard nails on each foot clacking against the floor with each step.

Her skin is teal, her face is flat but has two prominent malar bone spurs extending from its sides.

Her cranium is bald and elongated, tapering to a point perhaps [40cm] behind her face.

Her narrow eyes with black sclera and light blue irises point down in the middle, oriented at around a 45° angle.

She raises a long, slender arm and extends the three thin fingers of that hand to call for silence as the Deputy Speaker takes his place beside her.

Her voice amplified to fill the stadium, translated with a prim and proper, old fashioned quality and a stern, austere authority that belies her nature as a Class 4, she speaks “Representatives of the Galactic Union. We are convened here today for a momentous occasion!”

Representative Krim, the Wiwosk woman, took the speakership from Representative Wvorjo, the Vinjirian, around a [year] ago, when his term ended… and I’m so grateful she did!

His ponderously slow speaking speed (made necessary by the nature of his resonant language) would have made this day even more unbearable than it will be anyway!

It is quite tiresome that, with the deadlock between the pro and antiTerran factions, the only Representatives capable of being elevated to the speakership are those whose people are relatively unaligned and have no personal bias, one way or the other!

I’d love to be able to take the speakership myself and use it to thwart those apes’ every move!

“For the first time in [30 years], new species are about to make their debut to the floor of the Galactic Parliament.” Representative Krim continues.

I sit up, my whiskers bristling.

‘New species’?

Was that a translation error?

She meant ‘a new species’, surely!

The Terrans surely didn’t find two new deathworlds out there, did they?!

Extending her long arm in front of her to the ground level vomitorium, the serious Wiwosk woman booms “I ask that all welcome Prospective Repres...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Suspicious-Ad-2566 on 2024-09-06 20:20:56+00:00.

My first attempt at creative writing. Props to you who can do this well. Edit: Would love feedback in case I ever try this again.

"A round for my friends!" Called Raith. "To another contract together!"

Drinks were brought to the table. An earth beer for Raith, wine for his lifemate Nadia, sugar water for the insectoid Icthia named Zelnag, and a blue foggy cocktail for the amphibious Sartan called Henax.

Nearby a drunken Faltos glared at the table. Their race, short tempered and violent, had been slowly replaced by Humans over the last decade. He was bitter that a predator race without armor or claws had displaced them, clawed and scaled as they were, without even a war. Now they were here, on his planet, it was the last straw.

"You squishy humans!" The Faltos yelled as he approached the table. His reptilian eyes locked onto the pale taller human, the smaller dark one much harder to see in the dim light of the pub.

"I'm sorry friend, we'll keep it down. Here, let me buy you a drink." Raith did his best in diplomacy but the Faltos continued it's approach. Henax shifted black, partially to hide and partially to show solidarity with Nadia. She knew her kind were helpless against a Faltos but wouldn't leave her human friend. Z nervously clicked his mandibles, hoping to not have his exoskeleton cracked open today.

"Today the galaxy will remember why it fears the Faltos!"

"Whoa now buddy..." Raith said while standing. The blow landed squarely on Raith's mouth. The pub went silent. Z thought a blow like that would drop the human, it certainly would've damaged his carapace. To everyone's surprise Raith didn't fall, but wiped blood from his lip and stared at the Faltos, who was holding his now bruised hand.

"Cartilage is no match for bone, jackass. You wanna rethink this or break out the claws?" Raith seemed completely unphased from the blow.

Henax scanned her implant for human bones. Her lightning fast brain implant telling her everything she needed to know in milliseconds. The great calcification of earth's oceans billions of years ago was a golden ticket event. The human skeleton is stronger than steel and concrete by weight, allowing them to build and use considerably more muscle than the vast majority of non-earth species.

The Faltos hesitated for a moment, then decided to try the smaller human. Being a strongly individual race, he failed to consider that humans were pack animals. He reached out and grabbed Nadia's locs. Other Faltos had gathered, eager to punish the humans. That is until a barrage of bony fisted impacts beat the first Faltos into the ground. Scales be damned, there was ample blunt force trauma.

Nadia stood and stomped the Faltos, crushing his comparatively soft pelvis. "Nobody touches my locs. Clear?" She was smaller, but being a veteran had great command of presence.

The rest of the Faltos backed off. The crew returned to their drinks and Henax scooted toward Z. "So Z, human bones..."

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/jpitha on 2024-09-06 20:10:59+00:00.

The small station was in a popular shipping lane, so it had high amounts of traffic. Even though the humans had brought their wormhole generator drives, many people were still used to using the Gate system. Retrofitting every starship would be too costly, take too much time, and (some worried) would shift the power balance towards the humans too much. One didn't have to be human to be set in one's ways.

Because of the high amounts of traffic, most of the people on the station worked in the service industry. Providing meals, entertainment, refreshments, repairs and other such things, the population was quite diverse. In their off hours, they mingled and socialized.

Generi stood there awkwardly, still wearing the uniform of the trinket shop he worked in, his tail drooped and his ears low, trying to make sense of it. “Explain allergies to me one more time?”

Meg sniffed and wiped her eyes, but she smiled softly. She was sitting at a table in the resident's lounge. At her feet was a bouquet of flowers “Our bodies have this compound, called histamine. It's released in response to an attack - an internal attack - on our bodies. It's meant to help our bodies expel an invader. You know about itching? I've seen K'laxi do it. It's one of the regulators of our itching response. Mind, you, Histamine does way more than that, but we're talking about allergies right now."

"Wait, what do you mean by attack?" One of his ears perked up. This went from embarrassing to interesting very quckly.

"I know you have bacteria Generi, I also know your bodies digest food for energy. What happens when you get an infection?" Meg said, raising an eyebrow. Her sniffles and tears had subsided now that the bouquet was away from her face.

"Oh, I've never heard it called an 'attack.' Uh, our body temperature lowers, and we go into a kind of torpor. We lay down somewhere safe and stay still. Since the bacteria only can thrive in a narrow range of temperatures our bodies cool until our immune systems can take care of it." Generi puts his paw on the chair opposite Meg and looks at her, questioningly. She nods and he takes a seat.

"Really? Cools? But wouldn't that have put your ancestors at risk for predation- wait you didn't have predators, you were apex in your niche, weren't you?"

"I'm... not really sure. I'm not an anthropologist."

"Me neither, but I think I remember reading something like that. Our bodies are different. They raise their temperature to fight infections. It's more dangerous than your torpor because we can... well, die from it." Meg shrugs. "It doesn't happen too much anymore, but it used to be more of a thing."

"That sounds like a human, yes. In a race between killing your infection and killing yourself." Generi's tail flicks - a grin.

"We're getting off topic." Meg gestures towards the flowers, "in the case of an allergic reaction, our bodies call for histamine to be released when a harmless-" She glanced over and saw Generi's face "Fine, harmless - for us - substance enters our body, but we treat it like an invader."

"And this happens to everyone?" Generi was amazed at this impromptu biology lesson. It certainly seemed like humans were nearly constantly at war with something. Their own bodies, themselves, their neighbors, no wonder they were so good at it.

"No, not everyone, but a lot of people. It's fairly common. Anyway, in some people the body overreacts to the substance and produces histamine which causes the allergic reaction. Sneezing, runny nose, itchy eyes and body, congestion, things like that."

Generi flicked his ears and nodded, combing the two species gestures for assent. "Okay, I understand now. So the flowers...."

"Yes, I'm allergic to Roses." Meg blew her nose.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Generi was despondent. "I read about giving humans flowers as a sign of affection and I...I wanted..."

"Oh, I understand the intent Generi, I'm touched, really!" Meg reached over and patted his paw. She noticed his fur rise just a little bit. "I'm just allergic to Roses. Next time, try a different flower." She stood. "Wherever did you get them?"

"One of the humans over in Little Earth is growing them. He has a whole garden." He voice was filled with wonder.

"I had no idea. I can't believe the station authorities allowed it, some human plants are downright... prolific." Meg stared at Generi for a second. "How about you take me down to see them? I'll take an allergy pill first, and we can look at them together before it's shut down and it has to all go into the incinerator."

"You mean, like a date?" Generi's ears stood straight up, and his fur rippled once.

Meg started to laugh but held it back so as to not hurt his feelings. "Sure, just like a date. It'll be fun."