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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/micktalian on 2026-04-18 19:20:10+00:00.

Part 165 Compliance and defiance (Part 1) (Part 164)

[Help support me on Ko-fi so I can try to commission some character art ~~and totally not spend it all on Gundams~~]

Captain Melton Gryuth believed he had a solid understanding of the situation he found himself in. He was standing in his command room, leaning against his holotable, and actively participating in the ongoing strategic discussions. Though things weren't going quite as well as anyone had hoped, they didn't seem too bad. The planet shielding may still be holding and the orbital defenses had proven surprisingly effective. Several of his transmedium escort fighters had been forced to make emergency lands and two-thirds of the shuttles carrying the assault force missed their marks by several kilometers. There were also some communications issues that made reports from the ground sporadic and muddled. Despite all that, Melton saw both victory and a huge payday as inevitable.

Over a dozen combat-capable ships had already entered orbit of Rudonven-4. It wouldn't matter if the first three hundred person assault wave failed. There were at least another thousand mercenaries ready to go immediately. Any losses from anyone's crews, including the people employed by Captain Gryuth, would be more than compensated for by Shartelyks. After all, this is a rescue mission that demands no expense be spared to achieve success. On top of all that, even more ships are on their way to add to the siege force. The only thing that could disrupt this rescue mission now would be something Melton could have never predicted.

“Captain, sir…” The particular tone of the voice that called out to the Bendari Captain should have been enough to capture his attention.

“What is it, Ahnk?” Melton’s mind was so absorbed by the information on his holotable that he couldn't pull his eyes away to address his secretary.

“Y- You have an incoming call, Captain.” Anhklir Gryuth, Melton’s much younger cousin, normally spoke in the same clear, calm, and collected manner as the Captain.

“Not right now.” Mel remained absolutely transfixed that he still didn't realize she stuttered nor did he turn to actually look at his younger cousin. “This really isn't the time.”

“Y- You really want to take this call, Captain.” Ahnk’s unusual stutter, the fact she referred to Mel as Captain, and the name on of the call-screen of the tablet she was holding all should have tipped Melton off that something wasn't right. “It- It's-”

“Unless my mother is calling…” Melton’s words trailed off when he finally turned and saw the relatively young frog woman's panicked expression.

“It is your mother, Captain.” Ahnk immediately presented the tablet she was holding and subtly nodded towards the door to the Captain's office attached to the command room. “She needs to speak with you immediately.”

“I, uh…”

An amphibious hand slowly extended towards the tablet but came to a stop just before receiving it. That was when Melton momentarily turned his large eyes towards the sour-faced young Shartelyk woman who was standing next to his holotable. Knight-Squire Amalyl Remsoiter, for her part, was experiencing such an intense mixture of anger and annoyance at the fact she had been left behind that she didn't even bother to make eye contact. Even if she had, the inconsiderate noble woman never bothered to learn the meanings of different species’ facial expressions. She had no idea that the look in Melton’s eyes was a plea for help and not a request to be excused. So she simply unfolded her arms, dismissively waved at the Bendari Captain, and began leaning against the table to more closely examine the data being projected.

“It is very time sensitive.” Ahnk leaned forward so she could whisper, place the tablet in her older cousin's hand, then pat her waist where Melton knew she always carried her concealed non-lethal pistol. “I'll wait right here for you, Mel.”

“I…” Melton took a quick but deep breath then turned to look at the two members of his crew who were also in the command room and standing by the holotable. “Charvy, you have the helm. Harm, handle coordination. I… I'll be right back.”

The Bendari Captain didn't wait for confirmation. He was heading towards the privacy of his office expeditiously with the tablet in hand and a thousand thoughts in his mind. While he may be the current head of the Gryuth family, he didn't get to this position alone. His mother, Thelenra, had spent decades laying the groundwork for his success as a private spaceship Captain. Without her, he would be nothing. And while she did occasionally call just to check in and have a friendly mother-son chat, she never did so during a mission. Though he still had no idea why she was calling, he knew it was important. When Melton finally closed the door to his office, activated the sound-sealing systems, and activated the tablet's call screen, he half expected to hear that someone important had died.

“Melton Litchka Rontair Gryuth!” Thelenra was shouting the second the call connected, her reptilian face looking as if she were ready to reach through the screen and choke the life from her son. However, her tone and expression rapidly melted into something deadly serious. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Melton's voice trembled as he instinctively double checked the sound-sealing systems. Whatever had prompted this call was far more serious than he could have imagined but he still had no clue what was happening or why. “I have a client in my command room but I'm in my office. Wh- What's going-”

“Listen to me very carefully, my son.” No matter how terrifying Mel knew his mother to be, he also never questioned her love for him and desire to see him succeed. She only ever used this cold and calculating demeanor when absolutely necessary. “Now is not the time for fear or appreciation. You have stepped into some very serious shit and I am doing everything I can to make sure you still have a future outside of a prison cell. Your freedom can only be guaranteed if you do exactly what I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma'am!” The Bendari Captain steeled himself, pulled his shoulders back, and stood ready to receive orders from the only true authority in his life.

“Good. You have maybe ten minutes before the First of the Third arrive at your position. They know you're working for Shartelyks, they know about whatever convoluted conspiracy those god-botherers cooked up, and they are willing to give leniency to whoever complies with their investigation. I believe they also have a very competent AI working with them. How else would they have known to contact me? So don't bother trying to clean up your systems and records. Just do exactly what they say when they contact you and you'll walk away from this without disappointing me. Is that understood, my son?”

“Yes, ma'am!”

“And Melty… Make sure that Luphimbic girlfriend of yours makes it home in one piece. I like her.”

/---------------------------------------------------------------------

The first time Hilnokyr Schvindha saw a Nishnabe warrior fight, she really hadn't. That particular anti-piracy breacher had been using some kind of stealth technology that rendered the user completely invisible and undetected. Nothing more than a slight darkening of the area that a person could only perceive through perfect hindsight. It wasn't until long after the fighting had ended and Hil awoke in shackles with a splitting headache that she got to see who had knocked her out. However, even then all she could glimpse was what she assumed to be a female mammalian primate wearing a suit of clearly advanced exo-armor. The only identifying marks the semi-reformed Luphimbic pirate could remember was the image on the Nishnabe warrior's faceplate.

Where that previous experience had been like living through an eldritch horror movie, this sequel was almost like a slap-stick comedy. The silent monster of her previous encounter, the one with bright flowers contrasting against a skull on their faceplate, had been replaced with a more visceral image and a surprisingly talkative beast. This one offered a fair duel-challenge. He made quips. In any other situation, Hil may have even found the human to be hilarious with his quick wit and pinpoint retorts to High-Paladin Bikael. That is, if there wasn't a combat mech staring her down as she held a defensive posture while watching duel play out. Hil didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the Nishnabe warrior shattered both Bikael’s blade and all of the High-Paladin’s arguments in support of the conspiracy.

“Seriously though!” Tens continued to rant at Bikael loud enough for the entire clearing to hear. “I get it! The GCC is a bunch of politicians and bureaucrats who love to sit around all day arguing and refusing to do their jobs. Following all their stupid rules all the time is irritating as can be! But, like, you'd pay… What? Five percent of market rate for extracted resources outside of your people's EEZ? And you know that helps pay for anti-slaver campaigns, anti-piracy patrols, emergency aid, and a bunch of important scientific stuff, right? Do your gods not support pitching in for the common good? Wouldn't they want you to help others ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2026-04-18 22:58:02+00:00.

First

The Dauntless

On a slow day the average Centris street or sidewalk sees enough people move through it to populate a third world nation in the midst of a baby boom. It’s actually more crowded around Undaunted areas due to the sheer appeal of so many fit, energetic and often playful men. On an exciting day, and today has been a very exciting day so far, then not only is it crowded with an enormous variety of peoples and the associated watchers both ‘official’ and otherwise. Although there’s always fierce debate as to which groups count as official watchers and which ones count as annoying civilians.

The difference is usually boiled down to if they’re armed and have a uniform they’re probably official. Probably. It’s not guaranteed.

“Ah fuck, a drone with live feed.” Vlad mutters and Christos glances at him. “If there’s a delay then I don’t see a hundred million random alien women touching themselves while staring at me. But a live feed?”

“Yeesh.” Christos replies.

“I mean it was sexy at first, but it just quickly gets to gross you know? Especially with how many of them are so damn young.”

“Let’s change the subject. Please.” Christos asks as he suddenly has a very good idea why Vladimir prefers his women more mature.

“Hold on.” Vlad says as he suddenly turns with a rifle in his hands and fires a single shot. The bang of the rifle and the shattering of the mostly crystalline drone go off effectively simultaneously. “Much better.”

“Are there other drones?”

“Of course, but recordings of me don’t trigger the whole see you seeing me thing, which means that those little girls can have all the fun they want without their freaky little faces dancing in my view.”

“What about delays?”

“If they’re programmed in and deliberate than I can’t see them. Even if it’s by a single millisecond and thank every god there is for that. But if the delay is not intended then I see them seeing me.”

“Hunh. That’s... odd. How does it tell?”

“No idea.”

“Is this trait known and recorded?”

“It is.”

“Hunh.”

“Yeah it turns out that anti-cognitohazard recording methods actually get around my awareness. Which is useful. Especially if someone mimics my power or god forbid one of my children or heh, grandchildren does something naughty.” Vlad says as he stretches. “But there’s no live feed on us now.”

Then an eyebrow goes up and he swings his rifle around and fires off another shot. The sound that accompanies the bang of the rifle is now instead the crunch of plastics and the shattering of ceramics. Vlad waits a few moments. “Okay, clear again. For now.”

“You were quick on that one.”

“Generally I’m about to get a horrifying show if the first glimpse of a drone controller shows them drooling and dirty right out the gate.”

“How the hell do you still have a sex drive?”

“I used to be a pervert.” Vlad says with a straight face and Christos stares at him for a moment before Vlad starts laughing.

“You bastard.” Christos remarks and Vlad chuckles as he puts the safety on his rifle but pointedly doesn’t holster it.

“Soldier, why did you discharge your rifle?” An Officer demands.

“Sir, live feed drones sir. Standard drones are illegal to spy on us, live feed are a priority.”

“I see, use a silenced rifle in the future soldier. No sense disturbing and startling other soldiers.”

“Yes sir. Attaching silence totem now sir.” Vlad says as he pulls out a small clip he attaches to the barrel of his rifle. A twist on it and it locks into place. Unobtrusive, not in the way in the slightest and still fully functional as another live drone shows up and the safety gets flicked off and the sound of a bullet crashing into a primarily plastic drone rings out.

“Very good. Carry on.” The Officer says and walks off with several Private Streams right behind them. A couple of them make shushing motions or wave cheerfully.

“... That was a spy wasn’t it?” Christos asks.

“What gave it away?”

“That entire interaction was way too surreal. What gave it away to you?”

“That was a woman.”

“... Okay what exactly do you see when you see someone seeing you?”

“Just them and they’re absolute immediate surroundings, so their clothes too. But there’s always some Hargath nearby and when people are walking through where the Hargath is on the other direction I can see them in ways that are... weird. It took a bit, but I can broad details. In this case, breast bindings. That was a woman.”

“A woman in a lot of pain, she looked like a man, and with how big the locals are...” Christos notes as he looks back.

“Yeah, she’s struggling to breathe. Those Streams are going to save her silly life.” Vlad says. “... So, before we actually get into the building they’re in... how do you think two rival baroness daughters are going to fit in with your wives?”

“Upper and middle management across five different competing transportation companies that service this overcrowded world. With literal nobility who are so driven that it’s literally stamped into their souls?”

“Are you going to say no to them?”

“... I don’t know. I don’t want to be some silly girl’s crush. I want more than that... but socially holding out for more than that isn’t acceptable. There isn’t enough men to go around and I’ve already screwed up by letting myself get seduced by a horde of businesswomen on a TGIF Bar night.”

“TGIF?”

“Something one of the training officers back on Earth said. A Thank God It’s Friday Barnight where there’s a happy hour for the young. I was being told specifically that if I tried to get one that I’d be smoked until my arms broke.” Christos explains.

“... Did you do it?”

“I can hide a hangover better than most. They only had me do push ups until I lost feeling. Then basically force fed me enough protein to recover and then had me go onto learning Galactic Trade and studying basic engine maintenance.” Christos remembers fondly.

“Nice, I remember rucking until my legs cramped solid and then needing to turn around and do it again to get lunch. That was a fun first few days.” Vlad says with a chuckle.

“And I bet you were using your tick to stay out of trouble.”

“Never slacked off when they could see me. Which was basically always, but there were moments, and others got caught and smoked hard.”

“Nice, I was always able to find things in my bag and bin without issue. Made the Drill Instructors think I was organized.” Christos answers.

“Heh.” Vlad says as they walk through the main doors of the receiving building. This side of it was the least crowded. It was a combination visitors centre and more civilian facing part of things. It also blocked off the main paths to the rest of the Undaunted Compounds and if you had any questions or non-official business with them, you came here. Officially. A lot of people tried to circumnavigate it, so those who used it got the more polite treatment.

“Medic Ekmekci? Sniper Racz?” One of the guards/receptionists asks. It was a job for the more social and extroverted types.

“Yeah?”

“Take a left, room One Thirteen and Fourteen respectively. Your wives are either here or on the way to talk.”

“Oh, well... Okay.” Christos muses and thinks.

“Something wrong?” Vlad asks him.

“No, I have a very... quiet family life.”

“Why was that pause there?” Vlad asks.

“Because while quiet is the correct word it’s also cliche.”

“Excuse me?”

“... We haven’t actually interacted all that much beyond this mission and the testing. Would you care to meet my family?”

“Only if you’re willing to meet mine.” Vlad says and Christos smiles.

“Deal.” Christos says and they shake hands. “Although it will be strange to have a proper friend outside the medic corps and hospitals and not random annoyances to rant about.”

“Well the lookout and therefore assistant for the newest, weirdest medical practice may as well be an informal part of things.” Vlad says.

“Fair enough.” Christos says as they arrive at room fourteen first. Vlad opens the door.

“Hello ladies-” He begins to greet the women inside and finds himself grabbed around the shoulders and pulled into a huge kiss by Thera’Satha. After a good ten seconds of her trying to steal is tongue with her own, and letting him feel the fact that she used to have a piercing in her own, she pulls away with a wet sounding pop that leaves a stain on his lips.

“Well dear woman you certainly know how to say hello to a man.” Callista, an ink black Mnenmi notes before she sways up to him and gives him a massive kiss on the cheek, marking him with her black lipstick. “You certainly have a way of finding them and... oh? Is this the magical doctor we heard about?”

“Medic ma’am.”

“So formal, like all you Undaunted boys. Thankfully I already have my piece of the pie. And what a delicious, creamy pie it is...” Callista says in a deep tone as she pulls Vlad in closely. “So it’s agreed Lady Satha? You do know that the debate of First wife will...”

“Darling, I am thoroughly prepared to toss my tiara in the ring. This dear boy stared down monsters beyond number and looked death in the face to unravel the mysteries that once plagued me and helped clear out the crust that turned a perhaps blessing into an undeniable curse. Saving my niece and a distant cousin. And seeing as how my niece is waiting in the next room for the good doctor, and our dear sniper has a type...”

“I see... yes he does have a type doesn’t he?” Callista asks.

“A girl is to be protected and taught, a ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Undercover_Dragon1 on 2026-04-18 20:46:55+00:00.

A little bit of more of a relaxed chapter today! Enjoy!

First | Previous | [Next]

— Chapter 85 —

The workshop had been expanded, molded and altered to fit the duo’s needs and an arrangement of devices had all been laid out for him when he arrived. The new armaments were impressive and tailored to a variety of fighting styles. There were a few different types of armor on display at this point. The first prototype consisted of a metal light belt that helped protect the midsection and most importantly acted as a connection between the wearer's flesh and the embedded lesser gemstone. These belts were worn in combination with leather and fabric armor and were mainly going to be used by the scout Zephyr’s and other light footed kobold look outs. 

Two gemstones were specifically designated for them: the basic fire and water ones. Each had a use outside of combat that complimented a scout. The fire affinity gemstone could be used to light a campfire and maintain a fire for warmth. It also had the added benefit of letting the user redirect the fire and burn an attacking enemy. The water, by far the most popular, could supply water pulled directly from the air at a moments notice and had revolutionized logistics when it came to keeping everyone hydrated. David was impressed with their clever implementation and had no complaints. 

The next piece was a direct inspiration of Red’s shield but reduced in size to be far more manageable. It was layered with a very thin sheet of steel backed by hard but flexible woods provided by the bark folk. The hand grip was where the innovation came in as it could be easily removed and locked into a new shield base if the current one was destroyed. This gemstone was of earth affinity and held the defensive reactive earth armor that David himself carried. These could only be produced by Emerald at this time so only a select few gifted individuals would be assigned one. 

The next were the weapons and they were varied but the majority were blades and spears. Each weapon was made sturdier than the standard warrior’s weapon with a special compartment at the base where the gemstone was stored. Fire and earth were the most numerous of offensive armaments. Fire affinity could be projected in a number of different ways based on the user who imbued the stone. Earth was harder to use but appealed to the clever types as projectiles could be sent flying, walls raised or simply holes conjured underneath your enemies feet. Water was rarer because only Okraz’s affinity was strong enough to produce effects that proved deadly like concentrated jets of water. Lighting was still rarer because Wuja’bath was the only user and was difficult to convince to make more without excessive amounts of bribes. David had to admit that he adored the lightning gemstones as they had proved vital in not only his but also Red’s survival in the last few battles. 

Lastly, Light was also available and was quite popular amongst the bow and crossbow users. Light was easy to cast, took very little affinity in comparison to even fire, and proved to be a masterful gemstone to stun, distract and create distance between you and your enemy. The Zephyr’s that tested the stones had become especially skilled with blinding enemies as they lobbed arrows into their weak points. 

As he had examined and listened to the explanations of each he finally settled onto his haunches and nodded his head in approval, “You have kept the gemstones simple and designed the equipment to easily accommodate them. It is brilliant. You have both done a fantastic job.” 

Blaze smirked and Emerald beamed as they both bowed then Emerald spoke, “Thank you Master! We are excited to expand what they can do and bound more and more affinities soon!”

“I know there will be a demand for more speciality gemstones once both the affinity users and the gemstone owners become more skilled. Blue and Red will work out a system that is appropriate but we need to focus on keeping things standardized for the sake of efficiency.” David rumbled out in thought. 

Emerald cocked her head as she spoke back up, “We were hoping to get more gemstones of your wide variety of abilities, Master. Are you against it?” 

David rumbled a bit as he glanced down at the pair, “Of course not. I am simply reminding you that most kobolds that will use these weapons won’t have the reserves you have. How many kobolds does it take to activate Rapid Growth in the nests?” 

Blaze chirped up, “Five or more usually. Though I heard Elder’s Blue’Yellow  and Yellow’Brown together are capable of activating it with just the two of them now!” 

David blinked a bit. He had not heard of that small detail but was impressed as he continued, “Exactly my point. If you have a weapon with similar requirements as Rapid Growth you may kill the user. The fact that Blue’Yellow and Yellow’Brown are able to activate it as a pair speaks to their hard work and long years working for the clan.” 

Emerald nodded, “I understand, Master. That is why you have kept the affinities bound to gemstones limited in most cases.” 

David nodded, “Exactly. We have hundreds of warriors to equip. Spending time to make gear with unique affinities for every single one is not what we need right now. Red and Red’Blue do not even have unique abilities on their equipment right now. I am not saying we cannot push the boundaries but we need to mass produce what we have now.”

They discussed a few other minor points after that but settled on pushing what they had into mass production. He gave both of them permission to experiment but only after their production needs were met. They needed to focus all of the smith kobolds and affinity users into mass production so they could have impact now. 

He then spent the rest of the evening imbuing lesser gemstones and the few ambers they had with his affinity. He had suggested, to the excitement of the pair, that they make larger tougher belts designed for the Brute and Draco kobolds. They could then add in a personal healing gemstone to their belts to keep them going. Chirp and Otlo were the first to come to mind and he suggested as much. 

David was finally pulled away by Blue when she announced that they had a pair of kobolds emerging from their stone cocoons. Lately this had become a common occurrence but this time it was something special. These two, Okbo and Dash, had just emerged with a new type of dragon form. They had each landed the final blow on lessers that were of similar type as Wuja’bath. 

David rumbled in thought as they walked through the long halls of the lair, “Let us call these new types Hermes.” 

“Hermes, Master Onyx?” Blue gave him a curious look. 

David nodded his head with a rumble, “A figure of my old world that was very, very fast. It is fitting.”

Blue cocked her head in thought before nodding, “Hermes it is.” 

They entered the hall and were greeted with a fascinating sight. The two kobolds were tall, very tall. Their newfound height was mostly contributed to by their long muscular legs. In many ways it reminded David of the extreme human runners from his old life. If he had to guess they would be able to run faster than any kobold and have the endurance to back it up. 

“Master Onyx and Matriarch Blue!” Cried out the pair as they dropped to their knees. 

David had to stop himself from growling at their immediate desire to bow before him. Blue, knowing David’s dislike for it, quickly ushered them to their feet. David calmed himself before speaking, "Congratulations Okbo and Dash. You are the first of the Hermes. Now have you tried out your new bodies yet?” 

They nodded as Dash spoke up, “Yes! We would like to demonstrate for you both?”

Blue nodded and Dash immediately took off. Okbo huffed then followed closely behind. They sprinted around the large hall with an impressive gate easily twice as fast as David had seen even Red run. They lacked wings, like some of the other types, but their long legs meant they would be good scouts. David rumbled in amusement as they simply didn’t stop moving with an almost endless bound of energy as they shifted to running laps around David and Blue. 

“You are quick and your legs are strong. You both should continue to practice running to build your endurance.” David rumbled to the pair before glancing down at Blue, “Blue. We need to see if we can find appropriate traits for these two. I have a few ideas for them that will make them exceptional.” 

Blue grinned up at David, “I knew you would Master. I also wanted to ask if you had any suggestions for equipment for them?” 

David rumbled a bit before nodding, “Light armor obviously. They would make fantastic skirmishers, scouts and messengers. In the same vein as most of the Zephyrs is a good place to start.” 

Blue nodded then smirked, “Not all the Zephyrs are scouts.”

David grinned down at Blue, “Your mate is a rare exception. Though the Ascended kobolds are stronger in general so it's hard to compare Red to most other Zephyr. Okbo and Dash are of course welcome to find what works for them. Once they produce children though I have a feeling the lighter gear will benefit them the most.” 

They talked about a few minor details before David finally excused himself. He needed some time to figure out what more he could do with the ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Engletroll on 2026-04-18 11:06:14+00:00.

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The ship hummed quietly as it neared the Kaduna system. It was time to deal with the count once and for all.

“Are you sure about this contact? It’s a Gyrran after all.” She said, looking at the screen and the message Peter had sent.

“Yes, Kishan and Harrun are safe bets; they are Hadynat.  They don’t believe in the noble system, and their culture has been waging a civil war against the Gyta noble houses for hundreds of years. It's actually more of a religious war. They almost got wiped out during the war by the Carens.”  He replied as he checked the flight path. “I almost recruited them on the ship, but I don’t think they would survive long in human space, especially with the gang war going on.”

“Look at you, working with friendly Gyrrans. Next, you will tell me there are friendly Carens.” She said, and Peter shrugged.

“There might have been, but they killed off all who were not true believers a long time ago, before the Nalos war. If any survived, then they are keeping a very low profile.”

“So, what will these two help us with?”

“Well, access mostly.  The Hadynat has several spaceports on its continent of Kadune, and we then use shuttles or trains to reach the Gyta section of Kadune. We can use MudSkin masks to travel incognito.”

“The Halloween masks? Come on, they will see through them.”

“No, they won't. Very few species have any use for those masks, and they don’t celebrate Halloween or Christmas, so they haven’t been exposed to it.”

“Come on, they have to know about masks and such. I had several Nalos at my last Halloween party, and they all dressed up.”

“Yeah, when the Gyrran does not, masks are for theater and art. Not for sneaking into another country.” Peter said.

“Wait, they don’t even have a border checkpoint on the planet. This might actually work. Please tell me you both have the expensive ones.”

“Top quality, not risking anything with these. I have used it a few times before.”

“When?”

“Well, if you're going to smuggle goods, then you don’t always want your face spread all over the place,” Peter said with a grin.

“Well, let's hope this works.” As Peter guided the Inanna down to Kaduna prima, away from the capital city, they went further north, near the North Pole, towards a rocky plateau, and landed at a large city. It was half the size of the capital city, probably only a million or two living there. And the whole city seemed to be located on the surface.

“Surface dwellers? I thought that was only for outcasts and prisoners. Aren’t they afraid of the predators and the sun?” She asked, getting a little confused.  She knew a lot about the Gyrran main culture. About the unifying war, where all other nations had to bow to the royals or face extinction. But the Gyrans built all their dwellings underground; the surface was for the lower class.

“Yeah, they actually enjoy the sun. They call the royals ‘vampires’, something they learned from us humans.” He took her hand and guided her through the ship toward the exit as Argor came out of his cabin. The Jobar, all-around guy, looked at them, leaning on the door while scratching his tummy, as one of his facial tenacles moved to scratch his neck

“When do we pick you up?”

Peter looked at him. In two weeks, if everything goes as planned, keep the channel open and take a few jobs in the system. We might as well pick up some easy credits.”

“As you say, boss.” He replied as he went back inside to get an hour more sleep.

“lazy bastard,” Peter muttered with a smile.

“I heard that!” Argor shouted. They looked at each other and chuckled as they went to find Fu-Fy and get some equipment for the mission. When they finally got out of the ship, they were greeted by a Gyrran who did not look like anything she expected. Peter smiled and went to give the rather large, no, he was not large, he was fat, Gyrran a hearty handshake.

“Kishan, my friend, where is your brother? Out chasing a woman again?”

Kishan laughed as the heavy, thick fur coat opened up, revealing why Kishan was fat. She was pregnant

“You know my brother, always trying to chase those girls. He won't be happy before he finds his wife.” She replied with a hearty laugh. Her batlike face lit up with a genuine smile.

“How many wives does he have?” Kiko asked, joining the conversation, and Kishan smiled.

“None now, but he has been married six times; they all divorced him within a year. And he drags them to court for alimony. They never learn.” She laughs. And Kiko looked at Peter, then back at the alien.

“Anyway, let's get you two out of here. You got everything?” She asked as two droids drove out a cargo container with what they had made ready. Kishan made a low, clicking sound, and some workers came over, loaded it into a shuttle, and then handed Peter a metal rod with some lights on it.

“The cabin is ready, and Harrun will drop by with the package tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.” Then she turned to Kiko and looked back at Peter. “You got good taste, even I can see that.”

Kiko couldn’t help but blush a little as Peter put his arm around her and looked at her.

“I know, I still don’t know what she sees in me.”

“She sees a good man, right?” Kishan said as she looked at her, and Kiko nodded,

“Yeah, but he is sometimes too stupid to realize it.”

“Men, right? Doesn’t matter what species they are, they are always dense when it comes to love.”

Kiko looked at Peter, then back at Kishan. “Yeah, you're right.”

“Well, you two enjoy the cabin, it's next to a ski resort and has a few tourists from different planets. You might even see a few humans. So, enjoy and let me know if there is anything else we can help with.” Then she walked away as Peter tilted his head as he looked at her. She was expecting him to say something stupid, but instead, he simply bent down and kissed her.  

“Let's go, we have much to go over, and if we are lucky, we get a good long night's sleep.”

“You are not that lucky.” She replied with a grin.

.

.

The next morning, she walked out of the strange cabin, which looked like three tepees connected by a circular dome, all made of green wood and glass. Outside, there was a small table and two chairs with white woolen fur covers.  She sat down content. She could not get enough of him, and she was surprised that he had managed to drag himself out of bed to make her breakfast. She put her feet up on the table and looked over the snow-clad mountains.  The greenish sunrise was an amazing sight. It was one of the things people came to the planet to experience.  Peter came out and joined her in the other chair.

“It’s beautiful.” She said, looking at him, and found him already looking at her, then looked away.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he asked.

“Stop making me feel like I’m 17 years old again. You're getting worse.” She said, grabbing her cup, then turned to him, pulling her feet up in the chair as she watched him, hiding her face behind the cup.

“17?” he chuckled. “I can’t help it. You're just …  you’re the one who makes me feel alive again, I want to live again, damned be the war and everything. I will be okay as long as you're safe.” His voice was calm and serious, but still so full of his honesty.

“Stop saying stuff like that, or I will drag you back into bed. Remember, we are here to kill somebody.” She said, yet she didn’t want him to stop.

“Ahh, yeah. We need to go over the plan because we have to play our part soon. Are you up to it? I mean, I can barely pass as a low-class Gyrran, you're going to be a noble one.”

“I can do that easily. Unlike you, I actually worked undercover.” She replied.

“I’m looking forward to seeing that, you all dressed up, beating you slave when he misbehaves.”

“Yeah, how hard can I hit you? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“As hard as you have to. You can’t show sympathy, only value.”

An alarm went off, and Peter took out a pad, looked at it, then showed it to her. “Duchess  Kimita Wuymsta has arrived. She logged in at cavern 17 with her slave. We have three days to observe her before she heads to the conclave.”

Kiko stood up, leaned over, and kissed him. “I'll start the watch. Then she went inside and looked at the screens they had set up on the walls. She had three days to study this woman well enough to pass for her. She would have to sleep when she slept, eat what she ate. She was just glad Peter's allies had bugged the whole cavern and the area. The woman would not be able to take a shit without her observing her.

She watched as the woman walked into the cave, stopped to sniff the air, then walked straight to the bedroom, sniffed the bed, and lay down. The slave worked silently in the room. Like he never left her side. Peter came and sat down next to her, as his job would be servant.

“He is more than a servant.” She said as he sat down.

“Why would you say that?”

“He is too comfortable around her, and he is armed. Knives in the back belt armband is a hidden weapon of sorts, I’m guessing some sort of stunner and a regular pistol under his leather coat.”

Peter switched one camera to energy reading and chuckled. “And here I thought I cou...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/duddlered on 2026-04-18 16:19:36+00:00.

Had to stub chapters 1-31 because of Amazon, but my first Volume has finally released for kindle and Audible!

If you want to hear some premium voice acting, listen to the first volume, which you can find in the comments below!

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/duddlered

Discord: https://discord.gg/qDnQfg4EX3

*******

For a group of men who had just volunteered to stay behind and fight a monster in a dark tunnel, their preparation seemed to be going about as smoothly as a fistfight in a phone booth.

"For the love of… Can you gimme your goddamn grenades already!?" Reyes hissed, his hand out, fingers snapping impatiently as he crouched next to Newman's position at the corner of the intersection.

Newman recoiled like someone had just asked for his firstborn. "Hold on—hold on, hold on, let me just—" He started patting down his own kit, which was the universal sign of a man who had lost track of his own equipment somewhere between the sixth and seventh near-death experience that evening. His hands moved from pouch to pouch, producing items that had absolutely nothing to do with what was being asked for.

"Newman,” Reyes growled in impatience. “Grenades. Now."

"I'm looking! Just—give me a second! Can you wait?! I—" Newman pulled something from a pouch, squinted at it through his NODs, and immediately shoved it into his cargo pocket with the urgency of a man hiding contraband. "That's not—that's mine."

Reyes caught it. A few metallic objects that looked somewhat like gold bullion, but with unfamiliar markings and letters. "What was that?" 

"Nothing," Newman responded immediately, shoving it deep back into his pocket.

A few moments of silence stretched as Reyes glared at him menacingly. "... Newman."

"It's nothing I ain’t gonna share, sarge…" Newman said again, looking away like a kind caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Reyes didn't ask again. Instead, he simply reached over and started going through Newman's kit himself, his hands moving with the efficiency of a TSA agent who'd been personally wronged. Newman squirmed and protested, slapping at Reyes's hands like an irritated cat, but the Sergeant responded with a quick, calming slap to the back of the head. Two fragmentation grenades were quickly grabbed from Newman's carrier, followed by a few extra rounds of 40mm that he was holding for Finch, and—

"Hey! Wait—my cookie, man!" Newman lunged for Reyes's hand, but the Sergeant had already pulled free a crumpled ziplock bag containing what appeared to be the flattened remains of a chocolate chip cookie from his MRE. "You fucking asshole! I was gonna eat that!"

"Shut the fuck up." Reyes shoved the cookie back into Newman's chest without looking and continued sorting through the haul. “You’ll get a new one.”

“That was my coffee blended cookie...” A genuine moan of disappointment left Newman’s mouth. “Man...”

Reyes smacked the back of Newman's head again and glared at his private. "Well, if you had just handed everything over like I first asked, I wouldn't need to fucking frisk you," Reyes shot back, lining up the grenades on the floor next to the AT4.

"Well, I don't know what I even got anymore, man," Newman muttered, scooping whatever he could salvage of the cookie, coffee, and creamer mix back into the bag like it was something precious. "I've been running for my life for the last hour. Half my shit's probably scattered across three different tunnels."

Rolling his eyes, Reyes stood up and started rifling his own pockets, taking inventory of what he had himself."You've got your rifle, two mags, and apparently sludge. That's more than enough."

"Three mags." The private corrects, shifting in place as his sergeant shot him another more withering glare through his night vision goggles. 

"Oh, excuse me. Three mags and a fucked up cookie. We're practically a full platoon." Reyes replied while still frisking his chaotic subordinate.

While the two of them continued their domestic dispute, Finch was dealing with his own problem.

He'd been pacing back and forth across the width of the intersection for the last minute and a half, M320 in hand, trying to figure out where the hell to set up. The intersection offered three positions to choose from, one of which was Newman's corner on the right side. When Finch looked to the left corner opposite him and then to the middle of the corridor, he saw a direct line of sight but no cover at all.

Options, options, options…

Finch stopped at the right corner and looked down the corridor. Newman was already there with the AT4 propped against the wall next to him. Posting up next to the PFC would give Finch overlapping fields of fire, and if things went sideways, they could bound back together. But the anti-tank weapon was there. If Finch was right next to whoever decided to let that thing loose, the backblast alone would rearrange his organs. The AT4-CS was a confined-space variant, sure, but 'confined space' and 'standing directly next to the guy firing it' were two very different things.

After a moment of careful thought, Finch moved to the left corner and took a knee, sighting down the corridor from the opposite angle. This offered good cover and a good angle. He could drop 40mm rounds down the hallway without worrying about backblast. However, if the lizard managed to not die after eating an AT4 and charged their position, Finch would be on the opposite side of the intersection from the other two. If everyone bolted in different directions, he'd be cut off. Alone. In the dark. With a wounded, furious monster between him and the only people who gave a shit whether he lived or died.

Being cut off was less than ideal.

Finch stood up and walked back to the center. Stood there. Looked left. Looked right. Looked down the corridor where the scraping was echoing from.

The middle was the worst of both worlds. Sure, it gave Finch a clear line of sight, and he didn’t really need to worry about taking cover or fussing over having a clear shot, but this position didn’t sit well with him. If he was standing in the center of the intersection when a multi-ton lizard came barreling around that corner, he would be the first thing it saw, and it would most likely be the last thing he saw if they failed to kill it. No cover, no concealment—just Finch, a grenade launcher, and whatever higher power was supposedly looking out for Lance Corporals who make questionable life choices.

He walked back to the right side. Stopped. Thought about it and then walked back to the left.

"Finch," Reyes said flatly, not looking up from where he was staging grenades. "Pick a spot."

Finch couldn’t help but grumble as her rubbed his chin, trying to decide. "I'm working on it."

Reyes paused and looked at the Lance Corporal with an incredulous and furious expression. "How ‘bout you stop working on it and just pick a fuckin’ spot?” the Sergeant said with an inflection that implied he was getting sick of what essentially amounted to herding cats. “Just plant your ass on the other side and stop pacing around like a dumbass. Tu puta madre…

Finch opened his mouth, closed it, then finally sank into a crouch at the left corner. It wasn't perfect, but perfection had left the building somewhere around the time a dragon had chased them through a medieval basement. The left corner gave him a clear shot, solid cover, and if he needed to move, the long corridor behind him offered an escape route that didn't require crossing in behind Newman's AT4 if he decided to fire it.

He’ll just have to figure out whether the monster was going to die or not after being hit.

"This is fine," Finch called out quietly.

Newman finally began to settle into his corner at the intersection, with his rifle resting across his leg and the AT4 propped against the wall within arm's reach. A bit of life was finally starting to creep back into his features as he shifted his plate carrier to sit more comfortably against him and adjusted his NODs one more time.

"I’m good to go," Newman spoke up while pressing the housing of the night vision goggles tighter against his brow as if that extra millimeter of contact would somehow squeeze more performance out of the optics.

Reyes positioned himself just behind and offset from Newman—close enough to feed him grenades or take over the launcher if something went wrong, but far enough to avoid having his lungs turned inside out by the backblast if the AT4 went off. The Sergeant fussed around and lined up the fragmentation grenades on the floor in a neat row out of nervousness, forcing the pins in the same direction. There was no reason for him to do so, but Reyes did it anyway because even in a medieval tunnel about to host a fight with a mythological creature, he still found time to be particular about his explosives.

Then the three of them settled in and waited.

It wasn’t long before the intersection fell silent, or as silent as it could get when everyone in the rowdy Fireteam was scooted around like they were about to shit themselves. Their rifles were up, their positions were set, and all three pairs of NODs were pointed down the same corridor, staring into the whitish-black void where the scraping was steadily, unmistakably growing louder with each passing second.

It was a strange kind of waiting. Not the anxious, stomach-churning type that indicated they were walking consciously into an ambush. This was the patient, resigned waiting of men who had accepted their situat...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/SpacePaladin15 on 2026-04-18 14:03:38+00:00.

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FBI Agent Wade Barron POV

I found Hazel polishing up an intricate sketch on a plastic card, carefully shading within the lines she’d traced. The sound of my walking boot hitting the floor announced my presence, though her eyes only flitted in my direction for a brief moment. Was that a Saphno she was drawing? I had expected she’d want to replicate Craun’s likeness on the canvas, but the metal tassels that hung from a head wreath on this one suggested that this was another endeavor.

Craun solicited the right human here to make a Kiel deck. I’d like to look through them, but I wouldn't want to smudge or ruin her work.

“I’m definitely drawing more of these decks and selling them. Time to cash in on the souvenirs with that big crowd outside. The world keeps turning, doesn’t it, Wade?” A wry smirk stretched across her lips. Her calmness and willingness to help Craun with this suggested she was adjusting to our new reality. “Yesterday, this was all a laughable fantasy to me. I never believed in conspiracies or flying saucers. Everything I thought existed…had a rational, down-to-earth explanation.”

“I don’t blame you. I thought Finley was crazy too; I went to stop the UFO madness and left chasing it myself,” I chuckled. “I didn’t believe them until I realized the reporter did. Really, what I wanted was to see for myself.”

“You’re still crazy for going to the lengths you did, Mr. Extraterrestrial Security. Congrats on the promotion. Assuming I get transferred to your division, I guess that’ll make you my boss. I hope you’re a gracious winner.”

“It wasn’t a competition, Haze. It was about saving the aliens and stopping a needless war. Humanity won. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I understand that there’s a lot we need to discover about this…Council. That there’s whole other worlds out there that don’t think we’re people because they can’t fathom one of our deepest emotions.” Hazel stopped her pen’s motion, then turned to stare at me with incredulity. “How the hell did you handle this so calmly? You act like this is a normal Tuesday.”

I held up two fingers. “First off, I’m a big picture guy. Secondly, I like a good mystery. My concern with Craun is how to protect our people and to leave him with a better impression of humanity. I focus on the task and what’s in front of me.”

“But c’mon, Batshit Barron. What do you make of them?”

“Well…” I shoved my hands into my pockets, and sucked in as deep of a breath as my cracked ribs would allow. “I think Craun is trying. He’s starting to see that it’s not so easy to write us off as people, and that our anger doesn’t make us that different from him. We’re not what he was taught: and that confuses him. Most people aren’t quick to accept that their entire society is wrong about something, as this whole ‘ICBM’ debacle must’ve shown you.”

“That’s completely different! A few bonkers internet searches weren’t proof, and you know it.”

“Perhaps, but I’m sure you can imagine why someone might need concrete, irrefutable proof to change their mind about a fundamental truth. To him, that we’re people is as far-fetched a notion as UFOs. That’s why I’m going to chip away, piece by piece, until he’s like me. Until he thinks, ‘Could it be?’”

“That’s your take on Craun. What about Elbi?”

I snorted. “What about her? I’m not the patron saint of lost causes. I’m not that batshit; bless NASA’s hearts.”

“I also advised Kaitlin not to try. Hello, Wade!” Craun had wandered back into the room without us noticing (how could a rock be that quiet?!), but he didn’t seem upset by us badmouthing his sister. I thought he’d only caught the last bit of what we said. “Thank you for suggesting that we come to NASA. They are most helpful.”

“I’m glad you like it here, buddy! I’m excited to learn my first alien game before I hit the road.” I saw the Saphno’s confusion and shrugged. “I’m catching a flight up to DC to testify before Congress, then going straight to the United Nations. Don’t worry. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“I am planning a media strategy as well. Do you know anything about TikTok dances?”

“Are you serious?” Hazel exclaimed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It would make me less scary, and music is a calming practice for humans.”

“I’m going to guess Saphno tunes are the most zen, angelic choir music?”

“Most are lively and exciting, as many are traditionally enjoyed in step with a partner. I don’t know if primals would be so frivolous and…whimsical.”

“I take it you’ve never seen our 17th century fashion, if you don’t think we can be frivolous. Perhaps we need to take you to a Shakespeare production?”

I raised a hand, looking out at an imaginary audience. “My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.”

Hazel gave me a funny look. “Barron. I never knew you to be a Shakespeare fan. Did you get body-snatched?”

“No, aside from a passing interest in Romeo and Juliet. But I was just looking up some of the Bard’s quotes on anger to pick what to show Craun. That one was pretty fire. I ultimately chose something else to show him what rage inspires us to create, if he’s interested? You must need a few moments to finish up the Kiel pack.”

“This is your last chance before you head off to corruption land. Now or never—I hope you chose well.”

Craun’s eye crystals glittered with curiosity, as I pulled up a page I’d left open on my smartphone browser. Terry challenging me to a poem-off left me thinking serious words might reflect how evocative the emotions could be, and the profound, sophont revelations they could lead to. I’d selected Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas, and I waited for the alien to scour the text. It was a poem about grief and the desperate, futile battle against mortality—against the fleeting nature of our existence.

It was more than that though, a celebration of the fighting spirit enkindled within us all. That was what it meant to be human, on the deepest level; that we would stand tall and defiant against inevitability, and resist the tides of death to our last breath. For those we loved, for the impacts our fleeting lives made, for the very notion that life was worth mounting a passionate defense. We should never give up—we should rage against the dying of the light. We had to find our own reasons not to let that primal fire be snuffed out.

Does Craun understand how passion and fervor can shape our entire worldview? That it encourages us not to bend a knee, that it’s a source of strength and energy when even hope has forsaken us?

Craun was silent for a long moment, before handing me back my phone. “What good does it do to grow angry at death? Does it change anything? Does it not come all the same?”

“We’re angry because we want more time, Craun. That’s what it means to be zealous for life, and that makes us value our time here,” I responded. “The poet says that maybe it is a curse to feel so fiercely, yet all of those feelings are…worth it. Worth it to love, to burn, to hurt, to claw and battle for what you want in this world.”

“I see. I don’t want my end to come either; that’s why I am here. A last desperate hope of survival that only a gambler would take. A risk-taker who’d watched Tolpia be poisoned, and seen the Fleet of Spikes darken the skies.” The alien’s voice sounded haunted, and I could see his mind slipping far away. “But I’m not angry at our fate.”

I pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Maybe you should be.”

“To descend into blind madness wouldn’t bring the Saphnos back; it wouldn’t fix the pain I feel and want to forget. My whole family is gone, besides Elbi. I’m…sad and afraid. I fell on your mercy because all the other options ended with us dead anyway. That I can possibly have something of a life here—that’s the best I can hope for. That’s reality.”

“They’ve broken you.”

“I am indeed broken. Elbi thinks I’m out of my mind, but why wouldn’t I be? It’s the end of our species. Tolpia has fallen, and our lives would be claimed next if we ever returned to Council space. Finley showed me that humans feel anger on our behalf, and seem appalled that I don’t. Why, Barron? Why is that worth it, truly?”

I looked at the floor, feeling the heavy emotions behind his words. “To continue on with your head unbowed. To not allow them to break you, to resist even when hope’s failed you—for only a morsel more of time. Anger is caring enough not to accept it. To decide your lives were worth enough that someone should pay the price for what was done! I doubt it’d change anything outside of yourself, Craun, but it’d change what you feel inside.”

“Then anger would make me impractically run around in a state of disorientation, wasting the time I do have. It would make me a fool.”

“Perhaps humans are all fools then. But I think having the strength within yourself not to give up would grant you purpose. If you’re honest, you must see the value in that.”

“And in the soul burning to right wrongs,” Hazel said, finishing up the last Kiel card. “It’s harder to be an idle observer like the Council when your morals compel action. You can’t doubt the agency behind our beliefs.”

“I…am glad that for yo...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/TheOmnibusWriting on 2026-04-18 13:20:53+00:00.

In the year 2017, an extrasolar object dubbed 1I/ʻOumuamua was discovered to be heading towards the solar system – expected to be the first interstellar object to be detected passing through the solar system, it was obviously an event of great scientific importance.

The object was remarkable for lacking a coma, and for moving linearly, rather than spinning in the way that so many other comets or asteroids do.  

By 2019, the object possessed little social importance beyond headlines such as ‘Is this interstellar object an alien spaceship?’ – outside of its interest to the scientific community, the general public were, for the most part, unphased by its existence.

That was until it changed course to enter Earth’s orbit.  This alone was sufficient to determine its origin as an artificial object, and First Contact had now officially been achieved. 

When communications between ʻOumuamua and the myriad space agencies of Earth, each were shaken by the discovery that the aliens piloting ʻOumuamua were shockingly Human. 

After much negotiating, the Alien Humans agreed to move their spacecraft into Martian orbit, as their presence was causing a great amount of discomfort among the general population. The two groups of Humans then agreed that first contact would happen aboard the International Space Station, using it as a sort of unclaimed no-man’s land between  ʻOumuamua and Earth’s surface. 

The diplomat named James Elster floated opposite the diplomat named Eodrax-Semm, one of the surprisingly human crewmates of ʻOumuamua. He was notably older than his comrades, and physically massive compared to them. In terms of size and shape, he closely resembled the archaic statues of Greco-Roman gods, with an anatomy defined by an extremely muscular physique.  He wore his hair and beard in a bushy Marxist mane the colour of snow. His eyes were perpetually wrinkled in joviality, and dialogue with him was usually punctuated by his deep, booming laugh. James thought of him like a cross between Father Christmas, and Zeus. 

After a prolonged, awkward moment of silence, James spoke “I’m going to be honest Eodrax-Semm, I have absolutely no idea what to say here. First Contact with aliens is one thing, First Contact with aliens that are humans who can understand English is another.”

Eodrax-Semm laughed his booming laugh, “It is quite alright Mr. Elster. I have been in this job for six hundred years, and every time, nobody knows what to say – to tell you the truth, neither do I! I just wait for the other guy to admit he has no idea what he’s doing either!” He reached over, and patted Jon on the shoulder, “Usually, it is helpful to just answer some questions that you might have.”

“How do you speak our languages?”

“Humans have similar vocal cords wherever they are in the universe, so language is pretty intelligible across the board. We just need to feed enough of it to one of our computers, and it paints a pretty good picture – enough for me to order food at a restaurant right?” He laughed again, “Also, most human languages have their roots with us.”

“What’ve you been doing for six hundred years? You mentioned “humans wherever they are in the universe”, so obviously there are more of us; but what is it you do?”

“I do what you do; I’m a diplomat. When we discover a Human civilisation, myself or one of my colleagues is dispatched to that corner of space to welcome them into the galactic society of Humankind! I’ll admit, the organisation that I work for – Reconnaissance and Reclamation– sounds menacing; but I assure you, I am here on a purely diplomatic mission, looking to reconnect contact with you lovely folks.”

“Reconnect?”

“Yup – reconnect. Humans are one of this galaxy’s most powerful species. Several billion years ago, the First Men launched trillions of terraforming probes into space, as well as the relevant stuff to produce animals, plants, all other forms of life – including us!”

“So Earth, and your home-world were some of those terraformed?”

“No. Earth is the home-world. You guys are very, very special. My people call your planet Tsantsar, which roughly translates into the Greek language as Nostos – meaning homecoming. The First Men built their civilisation on your world, and did a pretty good job technologically, but some kind of cataclysmic event destroyed their civilisation – and to preserve themselves, launched their probes.” He paused, “My people do not have a home planet; we started off as a collective of interstellar nomads who travelled via rocky spacecraft like the one you call ʻOumuamua. In our travels, we discovered that our kind is separated across space, and traced the origin of human life back to you.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yes, Mr. Elster. There are currently confirmed to be one hundred and fifteen advanced Human civilisations that make up our union. It has been my life’s work to find Tsantsar, and hopefully make contact with the First Men who created us.”

“Didn’t you say they were destroyed?”

“They did not leave Tsantsar, no. Their surface civilisation was destroyed, and you guys came about from what was left. The First Men, we do not believe to have been wiped out by this event, however.”

“Where are they then?”

“Under the south pole.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yep. They hollowed out a massive area of land beneath your Antarctic continent, and turned it into their refuge.”

"Oh my god."

"If your people allow it, we would like to try and make contact with the First Men's civilisation below ground. Whilst I myself am a diplomat, my crew are mostly techno-archeologists; the people of Tsantsar - Earth - will be compensated, we can give you our technology and science, as well as connect you to other human civilisations across the galaxy, but we would like to try and discover whether the First Men are alive, and what cataclysm they were fleeing."

Jon said nothing.

"Think about it." Eodrax-Semm said, before teleporting away.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/LiseEclaire on 2026-04-18 00:46:00+00:00.

The third class challenge Will went through, after some consideration, was the knight. The crafter was a valid option, but the skills provided were too similar to Will’s reach ability. Also, he was a lot more familiar with the knight and intended to use it as a stepping stone to claim the paladin class.

Standing in the white, mirrored corridor, the boy took a deep breath. It was almost absurd how much his objectives had changed again. Until recently, everyone kept telling him to max out a class as soon as possible, only to be ignored. Looking back, Will still held firm that he had taken the correct approach—skills of various classes complemented each other, providing a clear advantage in battle. He had to admit that normal combinatorics weren’t going to cut it anymore. His current opponents had access to at least as many skills as him, and theirs were a lot more powerful.

“Any advice?” Will looked at a nearby mirror.

[You have set your path]

This was the most ambiguous response Will had seen. Depending on the level of sarcasm, the guide could be complementing him or in complete disapproval of his actions. Whatever the case, only time would tell.

As before, the first few encounters were simple. All opponents up to the fifth floor were expected. Thanks to the basement wolves, Will had busted the level of his knight up to five. He knew all the skills his opponents possessed and was able to counter them without breaking a sweat. It was later that the real fights began.

Remaining few in number, the opponents on floor six had acquired the ability to use a shield in combat. At first glance, the skill didn’t sound particularly powerful. Soon enough, Will saw how wrong he had been. A split second of overconfidence had almost cost him the entire challenge. Having multiple shields swing around as weapons wasn’t something Will had experienced before. Against such a combination of mass and sturdiness, none of his current skills or weapons could come out on top. It was only due to his rogue nature that he managed to leap away fast enough to avoid the edge of a shield by inches. After that, things went back to normal. Using a combination of weapons, Will took down the mannequins one at a time. With each win, the fight became easier and easier until he could even afford a few seconds of rest before finishing the last one off.

The next few floors presented no difference. The opponents’ new skills were more suitable for challenge use. Having the enemies boost their speed through the unburdened agility skill did present a slight hindrance, though nothing as bad as he expected. It was outright scary how quickly one adapted to eternity once they got used to it. No wonder everyone fought so hard to reach the reward phase. More skills and weapons brought victories, which provided even more skills and weapons.

Proceed to floor 9?

Completing this floor will complete the entire challenge. All rewards obtained until they will be granted to you at the start of the next loop.

Another peak. It was tough, but not nearly as much as reaching his first one. Like everything else in eternity, once Will had gone through the motions, his body and mind had gotten used to the restrictions surrounding him. Furthermore, heavy classes seemed to have fewer mannequins facing him. The issue was the knight’s final skill: heart strike—an attack that pierced through pretty much anything. Using it required precise targeting and timing, but once it hit, a fight was virtually over.

A total of nine knights awaited him on the final part of the challenge. Unlike all before, they didn’t start the attack, standing calmly in position, waiting for Will to make the first move.

Breathing heavily from his last fight, Will fought against the adrenaline that urged him to dash forward. Part of him screamed to take on the entire group on his own. The wise, more cautious voice made him take a moment to read the situation. Charging recklessly would only result in several of the mannequins attacking at once. There was a good chance that some, maybe even all, of them would be killed in the process, but that didn’t matter since only one needed to land a lethal strike for Will to have failed.

Maybe I should have gone for paladin, he thought. If the opponent were anything like these, Will would have easily made use of his movement through light and shadows to take them out before they could react. Now he had to think tactically instead.

With nothing to lose, he summoned a bow and shot several arrows at the opponent in the center of the formation. A multitude of shields rose up, blocking the attack. Cracks emerged on several, but none buckled under the pressure.

Will kept on shooting, buying more arrows from the merchant as he did. This wasn’t the fight he had imagined, but if it gave him an advantage, he was ready to keep on doing this until he was out of coins.

More cracks emerged on the mannequins’ shields. Bit by bit, the massive pieces of steel were weakened. Chips flew off, falling to the floor along with the arrows. Then, finally, a single shield shattered. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just the shield splitting in two under the weight of flying bash attacks.

CHARGE

Suddenly, all the knights changed their behavior. No longer willing to wait, they went forward, aiming to crash into Will like a giant tidal wave.

The final strike, Will thought. It was the epitome of the class. Everything was going to be decided in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t help but think that such an action was expected of him. The final challenge wanted to witness him charging forward against all odds, relying only on strength and skill. Even now, part of him was intent on charging forward to meet them half-way. Using his reach ability felt almost shameful in comparison. However, Will wasn’t a knight… not a real one, anyway. This was just the class he was after. The truth was that he was a rogue pursuing many classes, and as it was well known, the rogue always broke the rules.

Lowering his bow slightly, the boy kept on shooting, this time aiming for the floor.

The first few mannequins didn’t expect that, tripping in the shafts that stuck out. The rest instinctively leaped away. That was precisely what Will was aiming for, charging forward.

Three precise strikes and his opponents were reduced by a third. Keeping his momentum, the boy summoned his bow again, aiming at the neck of the nearest knight. His aim wasn’t particularly precise without the archer skills, but he still managed to hit a mannequin’s head after a few tries.

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Skull shattered

Fatal Wound Inflicted

Suspecting what the others would do, Will leaped back. Almost on cue, two mannequins lunged forward, charging to pierce him with a lethal strike. Their failure opened them up for a horizontal slice, sending their heads flying as well.

Three left, Will told himself. The tables had turned once more.

There were many chances for him to finish off the remaining opponents with one decisive attack. Giving in to over-caution, Will chose to keep his distance, using his bow to force them to charge at him instead.

It felt more like slow torture than an honorable knight fight. Yet, a win was a win, regardless of how achieved.

You have made progress

Restarting eternity

One more trial down, one more class permanently acquired. The first thing Will did at the start of the new loop was to instantly exchange his knight tokens to level up to the limit, then his merchant token to acquire the much-valued permanent level. Ironically, the solo challenges had left him with more unique tokens than he needed. Normally, he’d be interested in selling them for something else. As things stood, Will thought it a much better idea to save them up until he needed them.

Will sprinted into the school, heading straight for the basement. The wolves were killed in the blink of an eye, and the level ups obtained just as fast. Then, he went to claim the crafter class. Sadly, that turned out to be a mistake.

Restarting eternity

“Damn it!” Will shouted, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn his way.

Outbursts weren’t particularly rare at school, though they rarely happened this early in the morning. Usually, the jocks were to blame after another mess-up during training or after a match.

That way Will was feeling, he had no intention of stopping there. Before he could add anything else,he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Big ooof, bro?”

As the question was asked, reality around Will froze.

Will didn’t reply. There was no point in admitting he had messed up, losing a class maximization as a result. Of all the classes, he didn’t expect the crafter to be the most difficult to face. If he hadn’t been so overconfident, maybe it wouldn’t have been. Sadly, Will’s ego boost didn’t go at all well with the crafter’s upgrade ability. Up to now, his greatest advantage had been the ability to quickly summon weapons. The crafter mannequins were able to do the same, even if through different means.

Upon completing the seventh floor, the boy realized he couldn’t proceed any further.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. Crafter level seven was still alright. He could always use wolves or tokens to max it out. “Did you talk to the clairvoyant?”

“Sort of. You really got her pissed, bro. It was my job to deal with June. Now that you’ve involved, she has to start a wh...

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First...Previous

Chapter 7

Harrison Varga, Captain of FIND

By the time I was descending the bell tower steps alongside the rest of my crew, I already had the general shape of our first report back to SUN forming in my head. Every second of body camera footage we gathered here would surely be pulled apart frame-by-frame by intelligence organizations all across Earth. People were going to want to know everything about the Rosha, and lazy politicians were going to want a summary they could read in ten minutes or less. 

“Your father mentioned this kingdom is called Sevont,” Isla began, typing out her words to Taviri as he led us out of the bell tower. “How many kingdoms are there on this planet?”

“Three,” Taviri replied as soon as the translator finished speaking. “There’s our kingdom here, and then there’s Ilarun to the north of us and Veshar east of them.”

I nodded along to the explanation as Ian spoke aloud a question to Isla for her to type in. “What are the relationships between kingdoms? Are you on good terms with them? Is anyone at war?”

“We’re mostly on good terms,” affirmed Taviri, leading us between two larger buildings and out onto another road. “War isn’t common among us. When it does happen, it usually means a lot of things had to go wrong first. The last one was I think… Fifty winters ago? I know it was before my father was born. It was a desperate time and we’re not exactly proud of it.”

“What was the war over?” Isla inquired further, her gaze flickering throughout the busy Rosha streets.

“Fishing rights,” the Rosha replied, his tone suddenly turning solemn. “Fish farms were suffering from a disease, so everyone had to turn to wild catches. There wasn’t enough to go around, so the three kingdoms fought over who would get control over what rivers. There were actually five kingdoms before that, but the smallest two merged with Sevont and Veshar during that war.”

Fifty years without a war. The figure stuck in my head like a splinter. For a seemingly medieval civilization, that kind of figure was more than just surprising: it seemed downright fantastical. Sifting through my knowledge of history for any comparable stretch of peace on Earth, my recollection came up blank. Humanity wasn’t incapable of peace, of course; we were exceptionally talented at making excuses for the alternative. Borders, flags, faith, old grudges, new ambitions—these weren’t just anomalies for us, they were the cornerstones of conflict that had stood since we as a species first started sharpening rocks. 

Ian seemed similarly surprised by this, gesturing with his hand for Isla to fork over the translator before typing in a question of his own. “What about wars over land or religion? Are your people familiar with those concepts?”

Cocking his head in confusion, Taviri glanced back quizzically at us before landing his gaze upon Velo as though his friend might have a better understanding of the question. “Wars over land happened sometimes in the far past. Usually, though, kingdoms grow through merging families rather than conquest. Really, the only reason we have three kingdoms at all is because it makes it easier on the royals. What’s really not snatching bait with me is that second one. What exactly do you mean by ‘war over religion’?”

Gently prying the translator back from Ian, Isla typed out an explanation. “On our world,” she began, “different groups sometimes believe different things about gods and existence. Those beliefs can get tied to law, identity, and who has the right to rule. In our past, when people came to believe that their way was the right way for everyone, then sometimes disagreements could escalate into violence or even outright war.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of trouble to go through over gods,” Velo piped up from behind us with a series of chirps that filtered into English through our translator. “Sure, ours fight sometimes, but they’re all still part of the community: they’d never ask us to kill each other over them!”

Sensing a small hint of judgement from the Rosha, I decided it was in our best interest for me to provide some further clarification. “We agree with you on that,” I told them, “that’s why our international government, SUN, has a policy against religious persecution.” Shifting gears, I glanced back at Velo and gestured for him to come walk alongside me. “We’d love to learn more about your people’s beliefs. Assuming you don’t mind sharing them, that is.” 

Religious beliefs were an important pillar to understanding any civilization, so it’d have been neglectful of me not to seek out more information on the Rosha faith. If nothing else, it would be helpful for future diplomacy to know what not to say. 

I could see the observatory from the street Taviri was leading us down. Hearing my request, however, he took a sharp turn to the left and led us elsewhere. “Let me show you something,” he told us. Following Taviri, we eventually arrived at what looked to be some form of temple. On its outside wall, several Rosha figures were depicted surrounding what looked to be some kind of bipedal alligator creature. 

“Are these your gods?” Isla asked, pointing to the figures on the wall. Each of the six smaller figures bore a different motif, all playing a role in what seemed to be some form of battle against the largest being. 

Taviri’s tail flicked affirmatively at the question. “The big ones,” he began, pointing at a figure standing by the water’s edge, their tail conjuring forth a wave. “This is the River Lord: god of the waters and fish.”

High above the River Lord on the mural’s other side, Taviri pointed to a Rosha depicted standing on a cloud, calling down a bolt of lightning upon the central being. “That’s the Cloud Herder, goddess of winds and weather.” Beneath her, another of the Rosha gods sat upon a rock, working away at a stone tablet. “There's the Lore Carver, goddess of knowledge and writing.”

Perched in the trees casting shade onto the Lore Carver, a Rosha held out their hand as the roots of the tree they stood in ensnared the feet of their foe. “The Leaf Warden,” Taviri explained as he gestured to them. “God of plants and fruit.” 

Standing beside what looked to be a forge of some description, a Rosha with flaming hands tossed a sword to the god bearing a shield, who stood nearest to their enemy. “She’s the Ember Smith; goddess of craftsmanship. And that one with the shield is the Wall Keeper; god of defense and tender of the afterlife, Nevah.”

“Who’s that in the center?” Isla asked, pointing to the alligator creature. “Is that a River Devil?”

“Sort of,” Taviri affirmed. “That’s the Beast Tyrant; god of predation. He was supposed to be the king of land creatures, but he betrayed the community by creating River Devils and other creatures that prey upon Rosha. My father once told me that he is the voice in the ear of those who seek to dominate others.”

“Which of the gods is in charge?” I asked, my eyes flitting between the depictions in search of a Zeus or Odin equivalent before eventually landing upon the one holding the shield. “Is it the Wall Keeper?”

Taviri’s whiskers twitched negatively. “None of them are ‘in charge’ over the others. They all have their specialties. We go to the River Lord for fish and the Leaf Warden for crops.”

“Interesting,” Isla affirmed, adjusting her posture presumably so her body camera could get a good full view of the mural. “According to this religion, did one of your gods create Althiir? And where did the Rosha come from?”

“Creation is too large a category for anyone to hold dominion over,” Taviri began, stepping aside as a Rosha passerby sheepishly approached the mural to set a piece of alien fruit in a basket beneath it. “The gods helped shape things, but they didn’t create existence as we know it. As for the Rosha, we were actually created by the Beast Tyrant before he turned against the community. We were given divine sparks by the other gods; the Beast Tyrant got jealous and wanted them for himself, so he made animals to prey on the Rosha and steal them.”

Having obtained enough Rosha theology to fill the box for a SUN summary, I took the translator back from Isla and started typing. “I mean no disrespect to your gods, but perhaps it is best if we move on and speak to the astronomer.”

“Of course,” Taviri agreed, placing his paw upon a small imprint in the mural’s stone face before turning around and guiding us westward. “I’m sure Telik will be very excited to speak with you. He spends so much time rambling about the stars that it’s a blessing from the Lore Carver he managed to teach me anything at all!”

“This guy taught you?” I asked, staring up at the observatory that rested at the top of a hill like a lantern wrought from stone, its domed roof separated into overlapping copper slats that at night would probably be opened for a view of the stars. Protruding from its cylindrical, silo-like wall was what looked to be a house slightly larger than the others we’d seen.

“He sort of teaches everyone,” Velo explained, hastening his pace to walk alongside Taviri, seemingly more comfortable now with turning his back to us. “Not that I ever r...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/2weekoldpickle on 2026-04-17 18:43:49+00:00.

Howdy all, how have you all been? I have spent a lot of my time recently ... not writing, as you probably noticed, my bad! Almost graduated from college in a little under a month, so there will be even more chaos in my life. Chapter 21 is here finally, had the rough draft mostly finished for a while, and I just got caught up with everything. Thank you all for being so patient, and hopefully I will have this finished before I am eighty!

I hope that you have a good day.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

Chapter 21: “I bet he will love to hear it.”

NOTE: All metrics of time and distance have been translated into human equivalents.

Jarekk – Grieving Brother, Husband, Father – Age: 39

Roughly 9 days, 21 hours, and 15 minutes after impact.

“You . . . you know Clyde?”

Ajilly asked, trying to hide some of her shock. The green, insectoid alien had clearly shown just seconds ago that they were incredibly taken aback by the name drop of Clyde. I paused for the external translator to relay the message to Ms. Munply, who had at this point, seemed just as sure as I that Ajilly was with the humans. For me, this news was the best news of the day, but for Munply, it could be assumed the opposite. I can empathize; trying to comprehend the news that humans aren’t that bad is quite a tough pill to swallow. Worst of all, now she has to accept that this creature she houses is allied with her worst nightmare. I replied to Ajilly’s question with a smile,

“Yes, I’m currently taking care of him.”

She also gained a soft smile, paused, and let out a warm chuckle. Her laugh had a slight rattle to it, which caught me a little off guard. Her laugh was still pleasant, if a touch foreign. It felt as though some of the tension in both of us had been chiseled away. Ajilly said,

“I didn’t know if anyone else had landed here. How is he doing?”

Pondering that question for a few seconds, I assumed the answer to be, “Alright, all things considered. We keep him fed, we have a hiding spot, and he hasn’t died of boredom.”

Ajilly asked, “Hiding spot? How? Humans are massive!”

I shrugged, “We keep him in our tractor shed, close by to our home. He is just too big to fit in our house . . . or in your case, a garage.”

As I explained the issue with his size, Ajilly’s smile seemed to fade. We all sat for a few seconds, and I glanced towards Munply, who seemed very out of it still. She had only said one reply since sitting on that bench. Once she heard about Ajilly’s past, she was entranced by the floor. All brain power seemed to be routed from the eyes towards an invisible point where calculations are done, and logic makes sense of facts. I spoke to her, and as I did, Ajilly looked to her as well,

“How are you holding up, Ms. Munply?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

Her stare lingered for a few seconds after I said that, then she snapped out of her gaze and looked at me. She looked confused. Munply’s forehead creases told me nothing of her emotions, and the rest of her face gave very few hints. Dazed eyes might have shown pain that could have originated from many different sources. I looked at Ajilly, who quickly noticed that I had changed my gaze. Ajilly changed the subject,

“Sooooo, how did you meet Clyde?”

I glanced at Munply to see if she had reacted, but she was still staring at me with the same face. I paused, then returned my gaze to Ajilly. The apparent outer shell of her body rested on the blue plastic tote, towering a foot taller than me. The thinness of her washed-out green legs was still odd; it seemed strange how they could hold the rest of her body. Scanning up, the extra pair of arms was still bizarre, with the top arms moving much more than the bottom ones. Still, sometimes they would both be performing small actions simultaneously, and my brain struggled to keep up. The top two arms were once again caressing her right antenna, and her fuzzy pupils looked at me with only the occasional glance to Munply. I replied to her question,

“Well, my son met him before I did, and the first thing Clyde did was save his life.”

She seemed reasonably shocked, “. . . Saved his life?”

I nodded, “He was hiding in our shed when my son found him. When the door opened, a gryneer attacked him, but Clyde fought it off and bandaged him till I found him in the morning.”

She paused slightly, but quickly recovered, “Oh my God, is your son doing ok?”

My mind flashed a memory of Drekan covered in blood, asking me if I trusted him, “Much better, yes, he can walk and should make a full recovery.”

We were all silent again; they both had looked away. Ajilly spoke up with a slight chuckle of disbelief,

“I mean, I knew Clyde was a good guy, but . . . that’s incredible.” She paused, and before I could think of another conversation, she asked the following question, “So that’s when you decided you could trust him?”

I laughed a little before explaining the entire first day that I met Clyde. I explained the mental whiplash of opening the door to my shed and seeing a human for the first time in person. I laughed with Ajilly about how Clyde had to grab me to prevent me from running out of the shed. While I chuckled about such an affair in hindsight, Munply looked at me like I was psychotic. We discussed how terrified I was, my wife was, and how quickly Drekan grew to trust him. Over the course of my conversation, it seemed like Munply was starting to warm up to the concept of Clyde, seemingly having a relapse when I mentioned that Clyde was six feet tall.

All summarized in the manner of half an hour, eventually, I segued into asking,

“How did you two end up finding each other?”

Ajilly seemed to pause in thought, then looked to Munply. It seemed like Ajilly was going to give the story, but Munply immediately cut her off,

“Wait wait wait. If you explain it, I’m going to look like a psychopath! I think I should give some context-”

Ajilly said in a joking way, “Understandable for me to think you were a psychopath at the time. I went from thinking you were dying to thinking you were crazy. Even now, I have my doubts that you are normal for a glorbian.”

With the pause for her external translator to catch up, I was able to anticipate and see the joke land on her face in real time. She smiled for the first time since entering this garage, her rebuttal,

“Don’t lie, you think I’m normal adjacent.”

To which Ajilly laughed and said, “You wish. Explain away, crazy lady!”

To think that my meddling almost ruined this. Something in the air had completely changed. After explaining myself and how Clyde had become my ally, it allowed Ajilly and Munply to trust one another again, to trust me. I also noticed that Ajilly would stop fidgeting with her antenna when the jokes would start flying. Munply said,

“For the last few years, whenever I got very angry or sad, I found that screaming as loud as possible can be quite therapeutic.”

By the Gods, her poor neighbors.

Ajilly looked at me and gave me a look that said, ‘yup, isn’t this crazy?’ Munply continued, “Obviously, I don’t want to do it in the city, as that would be a very quick noise complaint. Instead, if I haven’t melted too badly, I drive out of town, find a quiet country road, and then I yell as loud as possible.”

We sat in silence for a few seconds while I took that information in, and Munply finished with, “That is the context you need, Ajilly. You can tell your side now.”

Ajilly said, “You can probably guess how this ended up going.” I nodded, and she continued, “Once I landed on Glorby, I thought that some people would have seen my escape pod land in a forest. I made sure to try to get as far away as possible from it.”

She paused to glance between us, “I just kept moving, getting a nap or two by sleeping on my cape. It wasn’t very great, but I figured that until I was close to dying of exposure, my odds would be better at avoiding detection. The first night here was pretty cold, but I found a little twig structure that someone had built sometime ago; it seemed like no one was around. I camped there most of the next day, as it seemed to do a good job keeping the wind at bay. I had to stay alert, though, knowing that if I heard anyone approach, I would need an escape plan.”

Munply and I watched Ajilly talk about her first experiences on Glorby. It was fascinating to hear how these aliens first interact with our planet, and how little they seem to know. Having grown up here, I would never dream of being out in the woods without a firearm of some kind. She continued,

“I had heard what sounded like faraway cars a few times, but I didn’t realize just how close to a dirt road I was, in retrospect the twig shelter should have been a clue.” Ajilly paused and looked at me with wide eyes,

“Then, my second night here, I heard a scream, pretty close by.” She then looked at Munply, who gained an awkward smile and looked down towards the floor, to which Ajilly and I laughed a little. Ajilly said,

“I knew that you glorbians probably wouldn’t be stoked with me being on your planet, and I wasn’t certain how an ally of humans would be treated. I thought, though, tha...

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

There are rules, dawg, and if you want to live to run these streets, you don't break them, you feel me?- Anonymous Terran, Age of Paranoia

I wouldn't do that if I were you - Most ignored piece of advice, inner voice, in the universe

Thou hast fornicated about and now thou ist about to discover most intently. - Unknown, Unknown Era, Terra

There was no hint of what was going to happen.

The three moons still pulled the planet in multiple directions at once, dragging at the planet's core, slowing the rotation of the planet and the core both. The yellow-white sun still blazed in a hellstorm of incandescent fusion. The plants and insects, the kind of creatures that could thrive under such radioactive fury, went about their dim little lives.

The military bases, long having been relegated to a punishment detail (the local flora and fauna was poisonous of all things) to the Ornislarp who were stationed there. The sun put out enough hard radiation that they had to be covered at all times. The rain was mostly H2O, which was your standard for carbon based life, but something about the dust particle it bonded around left radioactive dust all over everything. Rations were always crap, never any live shipments, all frozen. And not even the good frozen, where you could thaw them out and use a meal-chase drone. No, the bad kind of frozen where it unthawed and it was gross and soft and wet. And the meal-chase drones were terrible. Either you used them on base tarmac or they pulled grass into their wheels and shorted out. It wasn't even fun to throw your meal out on the grass and run at it, since the majority of the time the pheromone spice was some crap that you wouldn't have eaten if you were starving in an alley.

No, the place was complete trash. Trash bases. Trash barracks. Trash food. Trash officers. Trash enlisted.

Everyone and everything but you were trash.

Unless you were honest with yourself.

Then you were trash too.

The Ornislarp marched, drove, and flew around the planet according to a schedule set by High Command and Ornislarp Military Force Training Organizational System, then modified by whoever felt like just adding a line or two or modifying existing lines.

The planetary commander and his staff had all come out second best in a power struggle. They'd tried to seize a nice piece of territory for themselves to retire to after they got done with their politically motivated stint in the military. Instead they'd found themselves unwillingly conscripted for an additional fifty years and assigned to this backwater rock full of radiation, poison bugs and plants, crappy weather, and off the main shipping lanes so everything got there late, was the wrong thing, or nothing at all.

The planetary commander was pretty sure that the shipping officers were actually selling his supplies on the black market.

But it just kept getting worse.

The continental commanders had offended someone powerful and were sent out here on a 'ten year in depth expansion mission' with one exception of a psychopath who had actually requested something like this. That weirdo acted like he had been given the best posting the Noocracy could provide.

His troops tried to murder him at least once a day.

Every time he survived, always unscathed, he told the guilty that their obvious incompetence is why the Ornislarp Military Forces considered them walking compost piles. Then had two of their legs pulled off (one of the back ones that were designed to do that, but always one of the front ones. Particularly sadistic officers would do the 'tilter special' and pop off a rear leg then rip or saw free the opposite side front leg, making it hard to stand up) and dropped them off a hundred miles away from the nearest base with a bare bone kit and told "walk it off, skinny."

Sector Commanders were incompetent, stupid, crooked, or juts plain losers. There wasn't a single interesting one. They were all alike, the same schemes, the same complaints, the same looks.

One of the base commanders had mocked the Sector Commanders by pulling off the nametags from their body drapes and laughing that they all had the exact same awards, schools, and patches and nobody could figure out whose uniform body drape was whose.

Someone shot that smartass down with a surface to air missile two months later.

The Battle Zone commanders were incompetent and stupid.

The post commanders were fat, incompetent, and stupid.

It wouldn't matter.

The bases were there for a reason.

The reason was classified Ultra-Violet with Infrared Coding.

It was so secret that it had its own starport. No ship, after all, no sense in tempting anyone to run away.

But it was super secret. So secret nobody was even sure what was happening in the massive crysteel done that was five miles side and almost a kilometer high. It even had its own weather inside.

Not that anyone outside knew.

It was so super-duper secret that no military bases or troop movements were allowed that might be able to see it over the curvature of the planet.

It was so Infini-Secret that it had its own satellites over it and the other ones weren't allowed to point lenses at it.

It was so Ultra-Max Secret that nobody knew everything about it.

There was so much security around it that there wasn't even an AI in charge of the facility.

It was so secretive that no internal surveillance was allowed. Not even the doors had sensors to open. You had to open them manually, like a peasant.

So Ultra-Dupra-Secret that no two scientists knew what the others were doing. No scientific teams knew what other teams were. Only the facility commander knew that there was an ultimate goal of the facility.

But he didn't have the clearances to know what the goal was, he only knew it existed.

Everyone received their tasks and did them, turning in their results, and never told what the goal was.

It was so super secret that the right hand didn't know that the left or its own fingers even existed.

So it didn't get shit done right.

But the Noocracy Military Forces guarded the entire planet, just like they were told.

They marched, they drove, the flew, they schemed, they plotted, the succeeded and failed.

Below them it had gone from a single tiny object to much much more deep in the bedrock.

But unknown to the Ornislarp, the timer had run down.

The facility had a breakthrough. One that made the facility's high end super computer, running on all 16 bit system architecture right down to the molecular circuitry, send a signal to a message torpedo that was orbiting the planet in stealth.

The message relay melted down, to keep anyone from finding out that it existed and had transmitted a message.

But a major breakthrough had finally happened.

[The Universe Disliked That]

But the other timer had run out.

Great metal doors were opened.

And Hell was released.

[The Universe Liked That]

It was just rolling hills. Nothing special. A particularly hardy strain of grass that spread its roots wide instead of deep and bent with the winds. Sure, lightning storms lit hundreds of miles a year on fire, but that was just the part of doing business to the plants. The bugs didn't care, some of them laid eggs that the casings had to be softened by fire. Some of the bugs were even fireproof. Most of the small mammals (too small for any self respecting Ornislarp to bother with, which means they had been tried and found to taste terrible and/or possibly be poisonous) had burrows they could from the flash fires in.

It was also night time. The darkness hiding the little rodents, who had thick fur on top and bare bellies so their body heat went down so that the fliers (that also tasted terrible and had sharp claws) couldn't see them easily.

There was a loud rippling crack, like thunder on the ground.

The shape charges went off against the heavy blast doors buried under tons of dirt and grass. The doors were flung away from inner doors, spinning rapidly like someone flipping a coin, to hit and bounce twice before coming to a rest.

The interior doors were unmarked, somehow glossy and matte black at the same time.

Panels withdrew from the inset lip of the frame and lights came on, bathing the doors in harsh white light as well as the eastern edge of the now-blasted to bedroom dirt fan, which was one of the longer edges. Each light came on with a loud "KLACK", a sound effect unnecessary for the type of light it was, but that still sounded out across the hills anyway.

For a long moment there was complete silence.

Birds began to stir. Bugs went back to buzzing. The breeze washed over the doors.

There was a loud siren. The birds gave an angry cry and went silent. The bugs went silent.

The doors gave a loud KRACK and then began to slowly separate, pulling to each side along the long axis, the edges with huge low-angled gear teeth. The doors locked back, revealing another door. This one lifted along the long axis, overlapping wedges pulling back.

This revealed another door.

This one just lowered slowly.

There was more sounds of a klaxon.

An ele...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PepperAntique on 2026-04-17 23:28:50+00:00.

Previous / First

Writer's note: What are these? Chekov's cadet? Chekov's pastries? Chekov's dagger? Chekov's trinkets and baubles? God can't this guy stick to guns?

Enjoy.

"You sure you're okay?" Joel asked as he and Mazze got to the intersection where they were to part ways.

Since his exit from the conference room at the embassy, Mazze had been contemplative. He'd barely spoken a word after Joel had gone back in for some parting words with his father and the news that his mother had sent a care package through the embassy's parcel gate.

Mazze grunted as he looked back down the road they'd just walked down.

"Yeah." He said. "Just... he really was a bastard wasn't he?" He wondered.

"Sounds like it." Joel said.

"Hmmm.... Yeah. I'll be fine. Just need to think on some stuff." Mazze said.

"Well. For what it's worth. Least he did some good for you and your mom." Joel said with an apologetic smile. "Couldn't have been one hundred percent an asshole."

"Yeah. That's true too." Mazze agreed. Then he turned and held a hand out. "Thank you."

Joel accepted the hand and shook it.

"You ever wanna talk." Joel offered. "You know where I'm at."

"Of course." Mazze said. "Besides. I owe you."

Joel waved him off.

"Meh. Just the right thing to do." He countered. Then he remembered something. He held up a finger and reached into the bag his mom had sent through for him. "As a parting gift. And a way to help you cheer up. Try this." He said as he held up a small box from the bakery his sister ran under Uncle Driscoll.

Mazze accepted it curiously, sniffing at the creamy, buttery, sweet scent emanating from the edge of the lid.

"What is this?" Mazze asked.

"Oh just a sweet treat." Joel said with a smile. "I suggest having it with a cup of coffee or something."

"Uuuh... Thanks again?" Mazze said uncertainly. "Have a good evening Mister Choi." He said before turning to leave.

"Seriously." Joel called to the departing half-orc. "Just call me Joel."

Mazze simply waved over his shoulder.

Then he looked down at the small label on the boxed baked good. He'd studied Earth's English language. But he was nowhere near fluent, and likely wouldn't be for years. He... wasn't so good at languages. But he could still sound out the vowels.

As he walked and wondered at the small box he sounded out the name.

"What are...." He asked himself curiously before rounding the corner toward the Legion Hall. "...tween.....kuys?"

"Ready up!" Cadet Guidesman Synes said as he entered the barracks bay he'd been assigned.

The eight first year cadets rushed to the line between their bunks. Once there they stood at half attention, the appropriate position when being addressed by a senior cadet. Acknowledging their seniority without showing the same deference as they might an actual soldier or officer.

"Well done." Synes said. "I am Cadet Guidesman Synes. Your new intermediary." He held up the roster he'd been given. He pointed at the elf standing in front of bunk one. "Kildan?"

"Yes Guidesman." Cadet Kildan replied.

Synes checked off the box next to Kildan's name on his roster. Then he pointed at the next person, one of three humans in the group. "You?" He asked.

"Cadet Mourningtide." They said proudly.

Synes nodded and checked their box, making sure to take note of their face and scent.

He went down the line for all eight of them.

"Alright guys." He said once he had them all checked on his list. "Real quick. Let me be clear that I've JUST been made a Guidesman. So if i make mistakes I'm gonna apologize now, and get ahead of it. You're my first squad. But I still intend to see to it that you all succeed. Both in class, and in training. And I want it to be by the books. But this is a learning experience for all of us."

He saw them register that fact and subtly nod.

"Any questions, complaints, concerns?" He asked.

A hand rose up. Cadet Girtch asked the first question of Synes's time as a Guidesman.

"Yes Cadet Girsch." He said with a nod.

Girtch stood at attention.

"What would a cadet need to do if they lost their training helmet?" The large orc asked.

Most of the cadets maintained their composure... mostly. But a few actually looked at the large orc.

Synes took a deep breath.

Oh.... Synes thought as he processed what the first year cadet had just implied. ....fuck!

This was going to be harder than he'd expected.

A few hours after splitting off from Mazze, and after grabbing himself some hearty stew and a nice glass of wine at a tavern, Joel sat in his room and set the bag down to see what was inside.

It had, of course, been inspected by the embassies on each side of the small parcel-gate. So there was nothing terribly impressive in there. But a care package was still nice even if its contents were somewhat controlled.

First he pulled out the other pastries his sister had sent over. Three (two now) scratch made twinkies, a smeplie/blackberry salted caramel cheesecake, several differently decorated donuts, and one loaf of umkin bread with candied bacon. He smiled as he smelled them and pulled a chunk of the bread off to try. She'd been working on the bread for months and, if his taste-buds were any indicator, she'd finally gotten it right. He couldn't wait to have some with his breakfast.

Then he pulled out the stuff his grandmother had sent him. It was mostly clothes, a few Earth-style sweaters and things. But with how worn out his clothes had gotten on the trip here, he was glad to have them.

He also got a dagger from his brother, looking like freshly smithed castle steel and sporting a dark wooden handle that... actually fit Joel's hand almost perfectly. He nodded approval as he set it on the clothes he'd set aside for the next day.

He also got a plethora of magical curiosities and trinkets from his mom, with a note from his dad apologizing about how excited she was for his new job.

He'd thought that would be all. But as he stuck his hand in one last time to double check that it was empty, he felt a piece of paper.

Curious, since he'd already read his dad's note, he pulled it out and looked at it with mild confusion.

He unfolded it and startled as he saw the penmanship.

He knew who'd written this one. And wondered why she'd sent something in the care package.

That care package was from his family, and was meant to cheer him up.

It wasn't meant to remind him of her.

He ignored the short message on the folded paper and crushed it before hurling it across the room, where it rolled and bounced until it disappeared under his wardrobe.

And he'd been having a good day.

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/allature on 2026-04-17 22:31:47+00:00.

Cover Art

First | Prev

Astronomy was, unfortunately, a very new science. That meant that ‘facts’ were always being reviewed and readjusted. And that’s why General Hydor was once again sat in the expansive dome known as the planetarium. Professor Tski was standing on the stage before her, droning on about new theories about the orbital period of a planet further away from the sun than their world was. In the end, it was not a lecture that she particularly needed to be present for. There was, however, a bright spot in this gloomy cloud. Among the gathered flock of dignitaries, officials, and engineers, there was a familiar face.

General Teo Ach’yuru was a claw-ful of seasons older than General Hydor. She met him when she was just entering the Royal Military Academy. He became one of her closest comrades; somewhere between an older brother and a mentor. Throughout her entire career she could always depend on him for a friendly, listening ear, and, very rarely, for advice. They both advanced through the ranks, and now Hydor was just a two gem-pip general, while Ach’yuru had earned four. Hydor decided that she would take this opportunity to greet him after the useless lecture had concluded. She ended up meeting him at the refreshment table, in the queue for the entha tea dispenser.

“Clear Skies, General.” she said with feigned indifference as she stepped beside him.

“Ah yes, Clear Skies to--” The four-gem general turned to see who had addressed him. “Hydor!? Oh how are you old girl!” Ach’yuru chirped good humouredly when he recognised her.

“I’ve been doing well, old friend.” replied the two-gem with her own happy chirp.

“So I’ve heard.” Ach’yuru said as he leaned in conspirationaly. “I hear that you may or may not be heading up an important new project? Something to do with some of this new science about… Sh-pay-ce?”

“I am indeed leading a bold new initiative for the kingdom…” Hydor said, knowing that that much would be within any general’s clearance. “But I shall neither confirm nor deny my involvement with matters of space.” she added, her improving pronunciation of the alien word alluding to the where the reality in her non-answer truly lay.

“I see…” the four-gem replied understandingly. “Well regardless, I’m sure that you will soar up to the peaks of the kingdom’s goals.”

“Yes, I believe that I can.” the two-gem sighed, not noticing her fore-feathers flattening. “Eventually.”

Ach’yuru noticed his junior’s masked, crestfallen mood. “Something troubles you?” he asked, his voice soft and direct.

“It’s nothing major.”

“But it’s not nothing.” he deftly deduced as he slowly walked towards a more secluded spot in the room.

“No.” Hydor admitted while walking alongside him. “Not nothing.”

“I know you can’t tell me all the details, but you know I’m always willing to hear your concerns.”

The two-gem remained silent for a while, wordlessly editing her thoughts in a way that would satisfy both her pride and her task’s confidentially. “Well, hypothetically, let’s say that there is… An individual... That possesses a great wealth of information that can benefit the kingdom greatly. This individual has been incredibly forthcoming with their knowledge, and with every passing bel our own experts learn more and more from them.”

“I take it this individual is perhaps partially responsible with our new knowledge of sh-payce?” the four-gem implied his own knowledge by way of a false question.

“Perhaps.” the two-gem confirms by way of false vaguery. Given that General Ach’yuru outranked even herself and is present at a planetarium lecture, it would have been more odd if he didn’t know who Adwin was. The initial circumstances of the creature’s arrival caused quite a stir in the upper echelons of Phuratan society, after all. Clear mutual knowledge aside however, she elected to continue speaking in a cryptic manner. It was standard practice with such sensitive material, after all.

“Everyone agrees that this individual hails from a society far more advanced than ours. Again, I neither doubt nor deny the utility of this individual.” General Hydor continues. “However, I do harbor doubts to whether its society’s interests would align with ours.”

General Ach’yuru remained silent for a moment as he digested his junior’s words. “Would you be willing to expound a bit more on your concerns here?”

“Like I said, this being’s society is probably far more advanced than ours. It claims that it arrived here by accident. But how can we be sure that this is the truth?” she paused as she glanced around with what she felt was a reasonable degree of caution. “What if this creature was deliberately sent here?”

“You’re afraid.” mused the four-gem.

“Yes!” hissed the two-gem. “I’m afraid of the impossible infinity of the void. I’m afraid of stray rocks floating around, just waiting to crash into our world. I’m afraid of the untold chol of suns burning unseen, deep and far into the sky.” Hydor started agitatedly pacing back and forth, never moving more than a span away from her confidant. “But more than any of that, I am afraid of that thing. That creature. It casually tells us that the sun is a dark-light. It proposes that we should use rockets as shuttles. And now we use sixty-fours of its words. It sometimes feels like it’s running some kind of counterinsurgency on the kingdom.”

“That’s… Quite an insinuation, General.” commented Ach’yuru.

“Is it?” Hydor paused her pacing, facing her friend. “I recently had a meeting with some scientists and engineers to discuss our new project. I took over from their previous boss, they accepted it. I told them that I would delay their vacations, they accepted it. But the moment that I decided that this alien, this foreigner, should be excluded from this kingdom’s most sensitive affairs, what do you think happened?”

“What?”

“You should have seen it Ach’yuru! It was complete pandemonium! They acted like I’d drowned their pet opocou or something!” she continued her rant, gesturing emphatically as she resumed her pacing. “I know it sounds insane, but these people, everyone working with the creature... They’re acting like they’ve been bewitched somehow. Enthralled even.”

The four-gem said nothing for a while, letting the dragging clegs confer his quiet disagreement with his protege’s overt anxiety. “Perhaps there were more… Mundane reasons for their reaction?”

Hydor sagged. “I know, I know. I’m probably being paranoid.”

“Maybe. But paranoia is part of the job, I suppose.” Ach’yuru said, offering a branch on which Hydor could perch a small bit of her dignity.

The two-gem accepted the branch with a weak grunt. “Aside from all that, the creature is still an unknown variable. From an unknown nation. With unknown values. I can’t be expected to trust it right away, can I?”

“Absolutely not.” Ach’yuru replied immediately this time. “You have no reason to trust it.”

“No. I really don’t.” replied the two-gem.

“Well, I can certainly see why this matter weighs upon your wings so heavily.” said Ach’yuru. “But are you certain you can avoid having this entity involved with the project? It sounds like it’s the biggest expert we have on the necessary subjects.”

“It’s not even a scientist; or so it says. It’s surprisingly honest about it’s errors and gaps in knowledge, and relies heavily on our own academics.” General Hydor sighed. “Even so, I just know that there will be some vital point in the future where we might need its advice again.”

“Yes, I taste that scent on the wind too.” said Ach’yuru. “So, we can’t fully rely on this… Outsider. But it would be unwise to outright reject it as well.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, that’s quite an interesting hypothetical.” the four-gem churred, slyly re-enveloping their dialogue in the veil of plausible deniability. “If you’d humour me, I’d like share one of my own.”

“Please do.” the two-gem replied.

“Well, imagine if you will, a handsome, brilliant general.” he chirped. “Several seasons of loyalty to the kingdom had earned him two gem pips, and he he was keen on earning a third. And in a single wonderful moment, the heavens opened up a new opportunity for him.”

General Ach’yuru walked over to an aisle of cushions that he noticed were recently emptied. “Imagine also, that around this time, a Pitang scientist wanted to defect to The Kingdom of Phuratus. She was an expert in particle physics, and focused on studying the effects of radiation on the te’visk body.”

“Sounds like she would have been an asset to the kingdom.” Hydor commented as she sat next to Ach’yuru.

“Indeed.” replied the four-gem. “So, this scientist tried to strike a deal with the kingdom. Usually, one would would expect a defector to demand money, property, and certain diplomatic and legal protections. But this scientist was a special case. She asked for resources, sure, but it was less than one would expect. But she was particularly interested in manulent plants.”

“Manulent? Isn’t that a rare, toxic herb?” asked Hydor.

“Yes.” answered Ach’yuru. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? All we knew was that as rare as manulet was here in Phuratus, it was practically non-existent in Pitang. Naturally, the general was suspicious. When he asked about the importance of the plant, the scientist said that some o...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2026-04-17 22:45:43+00:00.

First

(I do not like that I have been so consistantly late recently. I will make an honest effort to correct this.)

Meanwhile! At the LAB!

“So that was a lot more involved than I expected.” Vlad notes as he watches the Axiom stitch the slight cut across his knuckles shut. Whoever that guy was he got him right in the mouth and the punk had been snarling with that knife.

“We confirmed a lot of things, and gained a lot of useful information. Frankly put I’m shocked that we haven’t been jumped by researchers and other such unsavoury sorts already.” Christos replies.

“We’re not allowed to potentially damage the contents of that room. Get out here so we can mug your ass for information properly.” Someone replies and both Ode endowed men share a look and laugh at that. “Not funny! Move it soldier! We need information.”

“We have demands!” Vlad calls out.

“This is a not a hostage situation!”

“The hell it isn’t! We got something you want and we want things in return!”

“I can get a superior officer to pull rank on your Gypsy ass!”

“No you won’t!”

“Fuck’s sake man, get out here before I start breaking things that’ll try to break me back!”

“You haven’t even listened to the first of my demands!”

“And what are they?”

“A full fridge of ice cold beer and lager to the side while we talk, bottemless bowls of snacks, pretzels for me...”

“Any kind of nut or raisin for me.” Christos adds.

“And in one of the debriefing rooms with the comfortable chairs! You know what I’m talking about!” Vlad calls out and the door opens and decidedly unimpressed Scientist is giving him a disappointed look over his glasses. “What?”

“You soldiers and your sense of humour...”

“At least we have a sense of something mister scientist! Now, will our demands be met? Or must negotiations continue! For you have merely heard our cheapest offer!”

“I can still get an officer down here.”

“Do you honestly think that an officer will listen to you after hearing our side?” Vlad asks.

“Probably not. Come on, I’ll send some runners to get the stuff.”

“I’ll do that.” Another man says leaning into the frame and saluting before vanishing.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Conference Room Five, Undaunted Laboratories, Undaunted Territory, Centris)•-•-•

Vlad passes over a slightly frosted lager to Christos who quickly twists the top off and takes a swig.

“Alright, the time is... Three Twenty in the afternoon. Tuesday. The date is...” The Scientist rattles off the date and nods. “Noted by most soldiers for being a Taco Tuesday, when most newly augmented recruits get their first taste of properly spiced food. Leading to a great deal of merriment in the mess halls. This is an interview and initial report of Medical Officer Christos Ekmekci and Specialist Vladimir Racz, often goes by Vlad. Functional ranks are Field Medic and Sniper respectively.”

“Our interviewer is Doctor Jack Samuel. No relation to the actor.”

“Yes, yes. That joke’s been made plenty of times. Now to the meat of things. Both Christos and Vlad are confirmed Other Direction Energy users. Particularly in the sensory department with extra sensory abilities. Christos is capable of flawlessly and effortlessly divining the details about anything he is carrying. Whereas Vlad is preternaturally capable of sensing everything that senses him through the same medium. In explanation, if you see him he sees you even if he has no way of seeing you and if you have heard him, he has heard you. This stretches to all known senses.”

“These two individuals in questions have just finished a mission where they have rendered aid to another set of individuals with an Ode Endowment of some form. This interview is to establish the general understanding of this new form of Ode power and how they utilized their own and if they did so in any novel manners. For clarification, both individuals have learned to temporarily share their abilities in some manner, Medic Ekmekci allowing others to sense all that they are carrying with minute detail that while not at the level of sheer detail that he posses sis still to such an impressive level that it is noticeable. Furthermore Sniper Racz is capable of extending his awareness of anything observing anything observing something he is holding or a person he is in contact with. Even through a chain of individuals. We will begin with new novel uses of their abilities.”

“I have been to diagnose nad understand the Ode capabilities of those I am in contact with. To an extent. It is akin to getting one’s hand on an instruction manual, but not being familiar with the language it’s written in. The diagrams are still of use, but with practice and further knowledge I expect to learn much more in short order.” Christos states.

“I have learned that I am capable of matching the gazes of a truly absurd number of living entities. Being observed by the Sorcerers and an immense swarm of Hargath simultaneously has shown me in no uncertain terms that I am in fact capable of bearing witness, with no deviation in attention, to multiple quintillions of living entities simultaneously. Furthermore I can also observe then through The Other Direction and across massive, MASSIVE distances. I’ve dropped a small recall beacon on a world we were temporarily on but I did not recognize. Intelligence will no doubt have access to it and if you wish to know where it is, then you can understand that we were teleported next to someone there who then observed us through the Forests as we were returned to Centris. I was able to observe them right back despite the unknown location and time and engage in what is effectively a conversation at those distances.”

“Interesting. I will inquire as to the distance and insert the information into the notes.” Doctor Samuel says. “Now, what is the manner of the Ode Ability found?”

“Some kind of competitive compulsion, but it seemed to lack some kind of safety.” Christos says.

“No, there was a safety, but it the safety that had gone wrong.”

“Please explain the situation in full.”

“Very long story short a family that split into two noble houses generations back always have a pair of competative rivals each generation without fail. One girl from each house, always immediately hostile. Always fighting. But never killing each other, but also never being quiet or showing any shame at their actions against each other.”

“And this was compelled by the Ode?”

“It was.”

“Interesting, so we have another potentially negative side effect to an Ode ability?”

“What was the first?”

“In Operative Herbert Jameson’s earliest assessments, up to the point he was personally scouted by Sir Philip, he was often described as an unremarkable soldier. Despite passing Undaunted Training at a very high rank of competency. The best of the best was what was asked for and he proved himself exceptional even by those standards. But was noted to be unassuming, and uninteresting. He was actually sent as a control for what a more normal, baseline person who could also keep up to super soldiers would act like. Without anyone realizing the sheer oddity of that statement.”

“God damn. That dude is intense on a slow day and he’s here for pity?” Vlad asked.

“Apparently. His own stealth has outright sabotaged him many times. We’ve pulled all his records. He has been passed up for countless promotions, denied jobs and has been treated appallingly because his stealth makes him something people are unconcerned with. Thankfully he has personally risen to the occasion with such aplomb that he has effectively conquered what many would consider a near divine curse. But the point stands, Ode abilities can do harm to a person, but rarely in expected manners.”

“Still, stealth working too well is kind of expected. It showed up to protect a family of obnoxiously pretty people from being brutalized by perverts in power. It makes sense it would occasionally overshoot to keep them away from people in power even at the cost of wealth. What we saw with Warli’Satha and Bruna’Rella, each of the their respective noble houses of Soben Ryd, was something different. Their ability put them into direct conflict with each other.”

“Despite them being related?”

“The relation is fairly diluted at this point. While it was a pair of sisters who founded the different houses, enough generations have passed that the two houses could conceivably interbreed without any risk of incest. At least twenty three generations of Rivals have emerged, and apparently there was another two before the Rivals showed up.”

“So the ability took time measurable in lifespans to develop. Then developed, simultaneously in two different families with a common ancestor.”

“No. The power was in two pieces. Pieces that fit together and matched. I got a direct look at the energy, and beyond knowing I was seeing things only in an abstract form I could actually understand, the thing that stood out was that it was incomplete, that it was designed to fit together with another part. And the two parts of the two women who had the Rivalry Active in them were what fit together.”

“But they were hostile to each other?”

“On sight and without provocation. The Rella and Satha families often meet up and after a time both Rivals will calm down, often growing into friends, but then two young children, perhaps even newborns, will suddenly be upset with each other without end. It grows and grows until they’re duelling d...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/FarmWhich4275 on 2026-04-17 20:44:26+00:00.

The school was abuzz with energy and excitement as their teachers geared up for a new event that their economics teacher had seemingly prepared. About a hundred young women from senior positions in the school had gathered in the stands of the school's outdoor area. It was a delightful day, so why not take advantage of the lovely weather. The girls were a menagerie of delightful creatures, Satyrs, Catgirls, Foxgirls, a few Angels and Devils mixed into the group, but most of the crowd were various flavours of Elf. The girls were all arranged tallest in the back, shortest in front, so everybody could easily see. Their uniforms, all crisp and fresh coloured in a blue and grey made neat. Some girls shuffled uncomfortably, as it was the height of summer and they had been ordered to wear their uniforms today as opposed to normal wear. The school's dress code was casual, but today was apparently a special day.

And sure enough, their Economics teacher, Mrs Emily Belle, wandered down from the school into view - wearing a military uniform. The students all gasped to see her like this, neat, tidy, hair pinned up and in a form fitting, but still very official; looking tan and grey officers uniform. Some girls didn't even believe their eyes, unsure of who it was they were looking at until those sweet green eyes and red hair gave it away. Usually Mrs Bell wore loose dresses, yoga gear or other more practical outfits for the time of year, to see her like this was nothing short of a shock. Button jacket, white blouse, hair tied up and neatly brushed. She was almost unrecognisable. Ms Belle walked up and stood in front of the class, giving her bewildered students and faculty a proper Navy Salute as her greeting.

"Good morning ladies!" She yelled excitedly and snapped everyone back to reality.

"Good morning Mrs Belle!" All the girls greeted back, the voices that followed a beautiful melodious mixture from all the races present.

"So, I'm very certain why we are all in full uniform on a warm summer day, and that's because I have finally managed to convince my military husband to help with some school work for all of you." She said.

A few students whispered to each other 'Wait, she's married?' and others said 'Oh no... I smell pop quiz season.' among other things.

"And yes we all know that quarterly exams are coming up, and the district has decided that for the sake of extra credit towards your year, we will indeed be facing a pop quiz next week." Ms Belle said, receiving a groan from the crowd.

The teachers all smirked in response to the groan, although this wasn't the best performing school in the state, everyone's GPAs could use a bit of a boost. Which meant more funding for the school, and better circumstances for everyone concerned.

"But this pop quiz is not on any form of curriculum in the textbooks. We all know by now the 'field trips' organized by other schools across the country, such as the Tank Racing exhibition from ST Mary's, and the exhibition of the USS Iowa made by Grover Central High. We however, do not have the budget or parental approval to do that as of yet. So I figured instead, I would bring the field trip here." She said, gaining a very sinister smirk.

All the students shared concerned glances, and all their teachers became very alert at the suggestion. The sound of engines and whining turbines suddenly filled the air as a dropship appeared over the town, and with little ceremony, landed on the field with its back to the crowd. The grass on the field got a bit scorched up, but still it landed gently, the ramp opening up. Mrs Belle casually waited for its engines to die before she pointed at the top of the stairs leading to the schools classrooms.

"Ladies, please would you all stand in salute, for my husband, Lord Commissar Derek Belle!" She yelled.

The girls all shrieked half in surprise and half in amazement as a seven foot tall Terran soldier appeared from the top of the stands out of the shadows. He wore a uniform reminiscent of a SWAT uniform, mixed with the trappings and style of the Roman Legion, brandishing a SWAT ballistic shield in his left hand, and a heavy Gladius sword in the other. He wore the official emblems and insignias, badges and serial numbers associated with the now universally famed Terran Military Police units. The very same super-soldiers that assisted in their escape from the dying world many years prior. Most girls were still infants or still inside their mothers when the rescue happened, so most didn't know, but all the teachers present snapped to salute and shed a tear at the sight of that all too distinct uniform.

The soldier stood next to Ms Belle, and the contrast was incredible. He towered over her at seven feet tall, while she barely managed five foot two. The students also noted the fact he was a soldier, and was heavily armed, some students growing increasingly nervous at the sight of a heavy stun baton holstered behind him, with a heavy .44 calibre handgun hanging from his holster. He stood to attention, stomping his right foot with a thud, slamming his shield down and holding the blade up against his chest with a thump. The girls all stood to attention and saluted as they were told.

Then, his booming voice spoke up from behind his heavy helmet. "And from the left side, USSMC Field Commander, James Taggart... Terran Legionnaires!" He yelled, directing all the girls to the sight of a Terran soldier emerging from the dropship.

A rather tall man stepped out in full military uniform, sporting a heavy armoured powered exosuit, heavy anti tank rifle holstered on his back, with his uniform insignia bearing the logo of the now infamous Terran Marine Corps. He casually jogged over to where Derek was standing and performed the traditional Marine Corps Salute. The Legionnaires uniform was less distinct, basically the standard Army Uniform, just rebuilt into a set of powered armour. It was all these guys generally needed, owing to the fact that the anti tank rifle on his back was standard issue.

Mrs Belle then smiled and introduced the next person as they appeared from the dropship. This one, a female, wearing dark blue robes and a heavy backpack sporting various mechanical appendages and heavy cybernetic augmentation. She didn't walk down the ramp, rather she stood atop a small mechanical spider platform that did the walking for her.

"From the Great Army of the Grand Republic, say hello to Captain Sarah Jane Anders, Master Mechanist from the Jovian Protectorate!" She said, smiling at her friend.

The woman smiled back at Mrs Belle and stood next to her. The next person to exit the dropship was another woman, this one significantly younger looking with strangely familiar striking red hair. She didn't walk out, she floated, her eyes glowing ominously as she did, effortlessly gliding across the grass towards the crowd. She wore a cloak or robe of some kind, a strange metallic, cyber halo wrapped around her head. She didn't salute, she instead just floated up to Mrs Belle and grabbed her for a very cute hug. The two women shared a smile and a giggle before Mrs belle finally introduced her.

"My little sister, Jessica Belle, Scion from the Neptunian Coalition Psionics Corps!" She said with a smile.

This caused everyone, even Derek to look at her with a modicum of surprise. Then the last person left the ship, this one a male, looking strangely ordinary. He jogged over and waved hello with a smile. He looked strangely normal compared to his compatriots. Then he pointed up at the sky, and snapped his fingers. A gigantic starship, likely a battlecruiser class warship, suddenly appeared from hyperspace, all bearing the same logos and insignias that he wore on his casual clothes.

"And finally, a buddy of mine from University, Caliban Sanders, Juno Drive Yards Coursair!" Mrs Belle yelled happily and gave her old buddy a hug.

Caliban saluted, snapping his fingers again causing the ship high above to fire all of its cannons, the puffs of smoke and fire creating a display of beautiful light rather than deadly fire, the cannons firing coloured smoke shells to create an interesting display. The display definitely didn't go unnoticed, as Federation warships quickly appeared shortly afterwards and surrounded the warship. Caliban just chuckled and paid more attention to the school.

"Today, you are going to learn the hows, the whys, the whats, and the whens, and later face a pop quiz. If we get your GPA's up, we can get the funding we need to organize more of these events. More opportunity to learn, more chance to expand, and more growth for the school itself. We can afford to hold more students and hire more teachers. But, we have to justify the expenditure beyond just the principle of education. You actually have to prove that the funding is going to the education of the students, that's why this exists. Maybe, we can spur you all on to study harder and be more involved. But, that's in the future. Today, its time to learn!" Mrs Belle announced with a smile and gave her students a polite salute. The others all followed suit.

The girls all ran down to their teacher and did girly things, fawning over her uniform and barraging her with questions while the five officers got set up. Caliban used his near infinite resources to quickly set up a microphone and speaker system to better cater to the lesson. Everyone quickly settled when everything was ready, returning to their seats with a supp...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/internalized_boner on 2026-04-17 15:01:11+00:00.

The void did not move.

The pin pricks of distant stars continued to twinkle in the distance, unmoving and uncaring as Pinciotti continued pushing the throttle handle forward. It could feel like you weren’t moving, if you didn’t know any better, he thought as he watched the rising velocity gauge while noting that the starfield outside his cockpit stayed as static as a painting. He was traveling over two thousand kilometers a second increasing, yet the stars did not move.  To them his blistering speed was utterly insignificant. It would take dozens to hundreds of years to reach the nearest of those little points at his current speed, he knew. The scale of speed and time and distance was comically heedless of human perception and achievement. His ship would max out at around 2900 KPS, a speed beyond the comprehension of any human being just a few hundred years prior, and yet it was pointlessly slow compared to the inconceivable size of space and the distance between the majority of objects.

All that we have achieved, and it still takes literally years to travel to our closest colony worlds from Earth. Significant chunks of our lifespan spent simply in transit. Traveling the universe was simply not meant for such short-lived, slow-moving beings as Man.

And yet here he was. A man. Traveling the universe. Zipping around at mind numbing speed and hoping that the cryochamber wouldn’t be cold on his exposed arms and legs when he climbed in it in a few hours. He had activated the pre-warming feature, but it was finicky and unreliable.  The ship would route power away from non-essential systems if the power dropped below a certain level.  That was the problem, he had never flagged the cryochambers “extra” features as essential. He kept forgetting to do so, and then he would promise himself he would make a note before he went to the freezer, and then he would forget to make the note and thus this game of Russian roulette with the warmth of his bare ass.

“Not this time.” He said aloud, to no one. He brought up the to-do list on his cockpit computer and began to set a reminder when, suddenly, he died in a horrible explosion as the micro-fusion generator powering his ship suffered a catastrophic containment failure.  A failure that had been slowly building for several hours, the warning klaxon and auto-diagnostic feature that should have informed him of the issue never activating. The reason for this malfunction was unknown, would never not be unknown.

The distant stars continued to twinkle.  The void did not move.  For an instant, Pinciotti’s ship created a new pin prick of light as it exploded, visible only to relatively close by observers, but nonetheless an event on a grander cosmic scale than most humans could ever hope to achieve.

The void did not move.

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ragnarocknroll on 2026-04-17 14:13:11+00:00.

First/Previous/Next.

Chapter the fifth

Heavy spoilers below, some of this will get re-used. I felt really bad removing this character from the story. He was originally the villain, then something else, now… gone except for a small mention. Relationship spoilers are also ahead. Some of this will get put back into the third “book” and so I really suggest you skip this if you don’t want spoilers. It confirms some stuff that has been hinted at. 

Oh and this next book is probably the most overtly sexual one, due to the fact that the main character is well…  an incubus.

Seriously. Don’t read if not into sexy talk or spoilers.

It is Saturday. I have a date with Mab today. I can hit the Shop before it. I head on in. I will get to spend some time with my honey before I see the architect of my happiness.

I step in and something feels… off Jen is at the counter. She looks… scared? The few irregulars here are all subtly looking at the Hispanic man waiting for his drink. He looks like he is from the Basque region of Spain if I had to place him. Tan, complexion, hair and eye coloring all remind me of that place. He kind of looks like an old acquaintance… FUCK.

I walk up and talk to Jen. “Hey, beauty, what is going on?” She looks over, John is preparing a drink and the “man” is surveying the room like he owns it.

“I’m not sure. His chime was really obscure. I had to look it up. Dragon attack by Queen…”

I chuckle. “Bit on the nose, considering I think that’s the Basque Dragon. Why is Fernando here tho?”

Her eyes get huge. “You know him?!”

I nod. “We had a few run ins. He can be amenable if you remember they have more pride going than 30 lions.”

Jen narrows her eyes at me. “That pun kinda sucked.”

I shrug. “Can’t all be home runs. Anyway, he only goes out to add to his horde and to find a mate… well shit. He never goes for less than top pickings.”

Jen smiles at me. “You’re in danger.”

I laugh. “Nope. Not even on the list to worry. This field is barren, he can’t sow any oats in it. I‘m safe.”

She nods. “Okay. So that explains why he shook his head when looking at me. That or not high enough quality…”

I grab her hand. “You are far prettier than you realize. He shook his head because you can’t have kids. Got me?”

She looks at my completely honest eyes. “I miss working with you, Mona. You’re always amazing for my ego.”

I wink and kiss her hand. “Well, you are a hell of a kisser. Shame we never got to do more. Give Trevor a smooch for me later. And have him give you one for me. I will go help with Fernando before he causes a disruption while you get my mocha, darling.”

She nods and gets working on it after I pay. I head over. He eyes me up and down and smiles.

“Hello beautiful woman. Where have you been all my life?” He is laying on his charm. It almost works.

“Europe, mostly. Then America. But that was after the last time you used that cheesy fucking line on me in the 1600s.” I wink at him. He stops short and stares at me.

“Drink for Fernando.” He seems to be trying to remember me. He grabs his drink.

“Drink for Mona.” Recognition flares in his eyes. “Demonic Desdemona? Ah, it has been ages. How could I forget those eyes?” He’s still charming, give him that.

“You were more interested in my tail and other parts. I can let it slide. I know the answer, but I have to ask. Why are you in New York City?”

He goes to sit and offers me a spot. “Looking to add to my horde and sire a clutch. I heard there were Fae capable of superior feats here after the Courts moved. One should suffice.”

I shake my head. “Bit arrogant to assume one will say yes. Anyone capable of surviving the process likely has the power to tell you to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “You would have been up for it if not for the fact that you are barren.”

I squint at him. “Different time, different mindset. And let’s be honest, I have a toy that can work almost as well as you did…”

He glares at me. Ah yes, wounding a dragon’s pride. I like playing with fire. Fire immunity is a good deal.

“We’ll see on that last point, I hope. Now then, I assume you didn’t come here to meet me, so who are you meeting?”

I chuckle. “My Fiancé. She’s amazing.”

“She would have to be.” He means that. Scary as he is, this dragon’s a good one. The doorbell chimes. Cheers theme. It’s Connie. I smile without even thinking about it and turn towards the door. All the clients that are here often and the staff join together to call “Connie !” She brightens up and waves at me when she spots me. Heading to the counter Jen is already getting her tea ready for her.

She comes over. He gets up and motions for her to sit down next to me. “Hey gorgeous, who is this?”

“An old friend. Goes by Fernando. Visiting from Europe.”

Fernando smiles. He reaches forward and takes her hand gently to plant a kiss on him. I would be jealous but I’m not ruining this moment for her. “I see you truly are special to have managed to change this one as much as you have.”

Connie blushes. “I had help. Though I’m happy to say thank you to that.”

He chuckles. “I believe you are a nymph, as anything less would be impossible given your beauty.”

Damn boy, settle down.

She blushes harder somehow. “Alseid. I am bound to the grove that tree out front is part of.” She gestures to her tree.

“Ah, well, that doesn’t suit us well. I’m afraid I will back off for your safety. Shame. You are definitely intriguing. A named wood nymph with a grove that I cannot see more than one tree of who has a crown…”

Connie stares at him. “Crown?”

Oh crap. Dude.

“You don’t realize you have the potency of a queen?”

“Excusemewut?” She’s staring.

Fernando looks at me. “Have none of the others told her?”

I shrug. “Not my place to meddle in Fae affairs. The queens know her will, desire, and capabilities. She’s the shield maiden of a Queen. It would disrupt things if she took the mantle of a Queen as well…” I’m looking anywhere but at Connie. She notices.

“Pardon me.” Her serious voice. She gets up and goes to the restroom. Uh oh.

Fernando looks at me. “I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“WHAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK?!?! HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?!?!” Everyone in the shop hears that. She finally looked at a mirror and stopped not seeing it. Great.

“I’m going to go console my lover. She’s going to have some hard choices and everyone was letting her avoid them. Do be careful revealing such things, Great Wyrm, or some Sidhe Lord or Lady may take offense. I would also hate to see you get in trouble with one of them. I can handle Connie.”

He looks extremely contrite. Good. He’s still a decent dragon. Better than any of the others. “I know you don’t have position in the Courts, but you do know someone that does. Is there a proper way to introduce myself? I wish to do this all in the proper manner.”

I nod. “Nixie, do you have a moment?”

Nixie the Pixie pops up. She looks at me. “For one of My Lady’s favorites, always.” How can I always tell this one and Connie capitalize Lady when they use the word? Yeesh. Wait. I do it with her too, don’t I?

“This is Fernando. He’s a good sort. He wishes to introduce himself and such. Could you assist him?”

She nods. “I’m a page for the Evergreen Court. It’s part of the job. Alright good sir, the Evergreen and Winter Courts are in session. Chione is currently in charge of Winter and Morgana sits at Evergreen. Do you wish to see them immediately or do you wish to wait until Mab and Patricia are in as well?”

“I have a choice? I would like to as soon as convenient to the Court. I don’t wish to break any rules.” He is being very respectful in how he speaks with her. Nixie looks at him and smiles. Connie returns as Nixie does so. Nixie’s wing stop and she almost falls out of the sky. Her mouth is gaping open as she composes herself. Connie’s Crown is fully formed and it is gorgeous. It’s floating above her head. Nixie stares at it, gulps once, nods as if remembering something and turns to Fernando.

“Take my hand, good sir. Let’s get that off your mind." He takes her hand. She looks around. Sees no regulars are nearby and they simply pop out of existence.

Connie looks at me. “He’s nice. How do you know him?”

I smile. “Old acquaintance. I was in Spain on some business and we crossed paths.”

“You so got some with him. Don’t hide it. What is he?”

“A dragon.”

“Wait, was he one when you had sex?”

I try my best to look shocked and insulted. I’m pretty sure she suppresses a laugh. “Who said we had sex?!”

Connie looks at me. “Have you met yourself, Mona? Until recently your default expression of even mild friendship was ‘fuck their brains out’ and that isn’t an insult, lover.”

“Okay, fine. Point taken, beauty.” I can’t argue it. Maybe she won’t notice…

Connie looks at me expectantly, “So, was he?”

Dammit. “Only a few dozen times…”

“Wait, is that why… you named that bad dragon Fernando the Fabulous?”

I’m pretty sure the AC is going to kick in from the heat my cheeks are putting out. This wonderful, evil woman never forgets anything!

“Can we change the subject before he comes back?”

She looks at me and puts her chin on her hands. “Someone has been seeing a crown above my head for how long?”

Crap. “Can we go back to my sex toy?”

Her facial expressions are adorable...

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Jerry 

The briefing room is full to bursting. Commandos. Intelligence officers and agents, Fighter pilots. Officers from the line infantry and armor units. Members of the fleet. Almost the entirety of the Crimson Tear battle group's combined arms firepower and leadership has been packed into one room and a few more are watching via quantum entangled comm link from their own secure briefing rooms. 

He has their orders. It’s time. With all the information they've acquired, and the incident he's just been informed about... the gloves are officially coming off, and the Undaunted are happy to deal with this problem with tacit Council approval. 

Jerry looks over at Sharon, then at Diana, the rest of his entourage was right behind him. It’s time. 

"Attention on deck!"

The room is on its feet in less than a second, everyone snapping to. 

Jerry bellows a sharp "As you were!" and he moves sharply down to the raised area where the presenter stands and where the podium awaits him. He takes his position, and sets his data pad where he can see it with his notes from the meeting he'd just had with Admiral Cistern. 

"Ladies, gentlemen. Good morning. I'm hopefully going to keep this briefing brief. Said briefing is also classified top secret. Master-at-Arms. Seal the doors and activate the scramblers."

A Naval Master-at-Arms snaps to, salutes, and confirms the doors are locked before pressing a clearly labeled button. A sign that says 'Scrambler Active' flashes to life in several parts of the room. 

"Very well. Carry on, petty officer."

"Aye aye, sir!"

Jerry turns his focus back to his audience, making eye contact here and there as he takes a slow breath, letting the pause draw everyone in a bit more. 

"I have just finished a call with Admiral Cistern. The situation we've been investigating has changed. We’d already received our orders to move to investigate the Sword of the Stars, leaving aside our surveying mission. Well, effective as of this morning, I have new orders for us. We are to ensure the Ha'quinye do not get their hands on the Sword of the Stars, whatever it is, by whatever means I feel are reasonable, short of a full-on declaration of war. And if the threat is serious enough that is not off the table." 

Jerry manipulates the holo projector, displaying an image of an unknown quartet of attack craft in some ship's visual sensors, launching furious attacks from extreme close range. 

"Part of what changed the Board and Admiral Cistern's policy is that the Ha'quinye are getting more aggressive, which supports the theory that they're getting close to finding this mysterious superweapon. In the last twenty four hours, standard Centris time, there've been four attacks that we know about on three independent vessels and one Council scientific vessel. Fortunately, all four escaped without too much damage. Which leads intelligence to believe they were just being driven off as opposed to suffering serious attempts to destroy them. Based on sensor data, profile analysis and so forth, it's believed within ninety-five percent certainty that these were Ha'quinye Imperial Navy ships making these attacks."

The image changes to two groups of ship and unit IDs, one outlined in red and the other in blue. The left, in red, lights up.

"This supports the reports we've received that multiple large Ha'quinye naval and ground forces groups have managed to make their way off world and out of Ha'quinye space. Presumably to find and recover the Sword, but it could be a precursor to a conventional invasion. Other parts of Undaunted and Council intelligence will be working that angle. Our focus is the Sword. To that end, we will be splitting up into two groups. Group One will be focused on the Crimson Tear and will also be known as the infiltration group. Thanks to Director Sylindra, we have an in with the Ha'quinye. So we're going to exploit it, make contact with local resistance groups, possibly arm them and aid them, and put some distractions into play to make coming after our other force more difficult. Group One will also seize intelligence assets wherever possible. We'll talk about how and the challenges Group One will be facing shortly."

The second group in blue lights up as the red side goes dark. 

"Group Two will split off before we make it to Ha’quinye space, and will be under my command directly, with the USFS Kandahar Province serving as my flagship because of her advanced command and control capabilities. We'll also have Old One Eye with us, with Valkyrie and Reckless holding up the naval end of the fight. Valkyrie will be playing host to half a squadron of Starblades and a squadron of Huscarls, which will be a bit crammed in their bays, but Captain Skall assures me they can make it work. We will be taking two companies of the 1st Power Armor Battalion, two companies of Marines, A company and C company, and most of the 3rd Mobile Armored Cavalry Squadron. To include tanks and walkers. We are expecting significant potential ground combat, so we're going to bring plenty of guns while leaving a nightmare grade security detail to protect the Tear. We'll also be hosting a commando detachment, to include a fire team of Apuk Imperial Marines. They'll be led by Major Forsythe, while Colonel Forsythe will remain with the primary JSOC force, which will be supporting operations around and on the Ha'quinye homeworld, Dagrquey. Speaking of."

The image changes to a world that looks at least somewhat like Earth, but with smaller oceans and more arid conditions on the exposed ground. 

"Dagrquey is a harsh world. The deserts are vast, the oceans are brutal, and there's a surprising amount of axiom-enhanced predators on-world. That the Ha'quinye survived, nevermind managed to build a functional civilization, if we define those terms loosely, is a credit to them and a warning to us. Do not underestimate your opponents. Because they are, culturally, a rather vicious, aggressive, martial people who grew up on a death world not unlike our own. If you let them catch you slacking they will make you pay for your mistakes in blood." 

The image changes again to a map of a large urban area that's been labeled 'Triumph's Seat,' with delineated districts and marked features. 

"This is the Ha'quinye capital, where most of our operations will likely be taking place, including our major distraction operation... which I will not be briefing anyone on at this time." Jerry's eyes twinkle as he smiles at his audience. "It's a surprise. For now. In the meantime, however, we need to talk about the serious issue our first contact operation and any subsequent operations will have when dealing with the Ha'quinye. They are intensely misandrist as a society. Male personnel CANNOT operate openly within Ha'quinye territory. That doesn't mean our commandos won't be getting work done, or we won't be using male personnel with appropriate precautions, but it is a serious problem. Especially for our first contact mission."

The image changes again to display what is labeled as the Ha'quinye imperial palace. 

"Director Sylindra has gotten us an in with the Ha'quinye, using food and luxury goods. We were hoping for a simple introduction to Ha'quinye high society, but we got lucky. Our gift to the palace has gotten us direct attention from the current consuls, which we are happy to take. To that end, we'll be sending a contact team, including me. I'll be coming because we have it on good authority that we have a male contact in the palace. Males here are rare, and completely segregated from the female population outside of very specific conditions, according to our brief. There's maybe two men in the palace. My attendance is a significant compliment from our clan to the Ha'quinye leadership, a sign that our side trusts them to guarantee my safety. So they'll also be obliged to bring their man or men out, we'll be separated from the actual people, and… we’ll be more or less on display. Like show dogs or something."

Jerry violently suppresses a snarl. This particular mission was going to test him quite a bit too. 

"With any luck, we'll be too busy being ogled for anyone to actually pay attention to us, so I'll be able to confirm if the man in question is our contact and pass him items and receive anything he might have to pass off... from what intelligence tells me, our palace source should have a data chit for me, but we'll see about that. Once we've withdrawn after the party, I'll slip out of the system with Nkla 'Fangs' Osier, aboard her scout ship. It's a small craft with powerful stealth capabilities, and even if we head out openly it shouldn't raise too many eyebrows. We'll rendezvous with Group Two, and that will begin both missions proper."

He pauses for a few moments before asking, "Any questions?"

There are several, ranging from the tactical to the practical, but between himself and Diana the briefing starts to wrap up quickly. Everyone in this room is a professional, after all, and Jerry had been one of them far more recently than most flag rank officers. He knows what his 'line animals' need to do their jobs properly and he’s made damn sure they had it!

Jerry walks through the briefing room, down the main aisle and back, making eye contact with his men and women again. 

"Have no doubt, this will potentially be a challenging, dangerous assignment. It will also mean more time away from family than members of this ship's crew a...

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_____________

Antarean Self-Defense Fleet Ship Orphan's Rage

Misabel's days were a blur of drudgework for the most part, but the evenings were something of balancing act - the Helots were feeding her information and dropping things off for her to pickup and cache in Escape Pod Twenty-One for the eventual escape. The problem was the information was being buried in the one hour of evening entertainment she was allotted. Tonight's was something new from Hurdop, purported to be a comedy called Blue Giant. She settled on her bed and pressed play. A fairly calm voice came on as an image of a woman resolved onto the screen.

"Emergency. Emergency. This is a distress call from the Hurtian Mining Corporation Ship Blue Giant, ship computer Grehzk reporting. At our current speed we are three million years from the Hurdop Sector. An R-Space drive accident has left us stranded. The only survivors - Keyol, a maintenance technician who was in suspended animation at the time of the accident along with Gruzk, a holographic recreation of her bunkmate, and finally a lifeform evolved from the ship's pet." There was a fadeout before Grehzk faded in again. "Addendum: spirits among the crew are low because the crew is low on spirits - before leaving Gruzk accidentally exposed libation storage to the drive coolant causing all the rum to freeze into a solid block. At our current temperature, we'll have something nice to drink in eighty years. More or less." There was another fade out and fade in. "Addendum to the addendum: you're probably wondering how we got in this mess to begin with..."

The scene shifted, showing Gruzk and Keyol moving down an access corridor for repairs to show precisely how meaningless their jobs were, and then Keyol being placed in suspended animation for the duration of the trip after an incident that sounded a great deal like she'd peed in the air intake leading to the Officers Mess. After being released from suspended animation, Keyol was rather dumbstruck by the fact that she was the only one left on the ship. What was worse was Grezhk deciding that the one most likely to keep Keyol sane was the bunkmate made of holographic light and regulations.

Once Misabel had watched and actually marginally enjoyed the show despite the horrific stereotyping of Vilantians, she checked her files for the new update. The Helots did not disappoint, as Bob's form resolved above her tablet. Misabel glanced around to ensure that the guards were occupied before focusing on the message.

"Expedite process. Commodore Itrop has captured Terran-flagged vessels and reported them as having self-destructed to avoid capture. Itrop intends to repurpose them as Vilantian-style Warfreighters. Terran standard response matrix to action will be to send a carrier class cruiser to the system for exercises and reconnaissance. Timeframe will be within two weeks. Additional intelligence suggests Freelord Gryzzk's company will be in-system prior to the arrival of Terran ships. There is an eighty percent chance that there will be an engagement. Precise survival odds cannot be calculated due to uncertainty of force availability, however previous engagements suggest the mercenary company will emerge victorious. Engagement utilization required for successful employment termination. Items and diagrams for assembly are included. Communication end."

Misabel slumped against the wall. Certainly she could do what was being asked. At the same time, it was going to be highly taxing. She was theoretically supposed to be slowing down and beginning light duties in a few weeks, but that particular regulation was in all likelihood going to be forgotten. The weight of everything was beginning to press hard on her shoulders; she was taking a tremendous risk - not just her life, but the life of her child. Even beyond that, it was possible there would be further consequences - her line would almost certainly be marked as troublesome, and the ripples would be felt among her clan. The counterweight to that was that if she was already in a troublesome spot insofar as her honor was concerned by deserting the navy. The fact that the desertion was not of her own will was immaterial.

So she was left with trusting a Vilantian Freelord, two Helots, and their associated Terrans to save her honor. Somewhere the gods were laughing at their creativity. There was only one sane option left before bed.

She re-watched the first episode of Blue Giant.

___________

Vilantia Prime, House of Parliament

Gryzzk settled in the dressing room, waiting calmly as possible - which, if he was being honest with himself wasn't very calm at all. He looked at the box containing his robe and finally lifted it out. There was a soft thump as something fell out of the box. Gryzzk didn't have to look down to realize that someone had managed to get a Learning Stick in with his robes. Though how that had been accomplished was a question Gryzzk was definitely going to have to ask later. For the moment, he donned the robes he was given and confirmed he looked presentable.

Outside the room, Gryzzk could hear as Minister Larine brought the joint session to order with the ceremonial sounding of the gong - not an easy task in and of itself, as the membership was seemingly extra raucous today. There was a low murmur that rose immediately after as the singular agenda item was announced by the Prime Minister.

"This day we discuss Proposal TK-421; 'Excise Tax of Special Extraplanetary Services'. Both houses have heard arguments, in this session we hear the words of Freelord Gryzzk of Clan O'Gryzzk, here by invitation of the Thirty-fourth Most Royal Throne of Vilantia."

That was his cue; Gryzzk came out unhurriedly to the sunken stage and the low podium that had water and a lectern for his table. There was a railing separating the speaking area from the audience above - theoretically to keep the speaker safe if they spoke out of turn. With him he carried the Legion Javelin in his right hand and the Lafione Dagger in his left. This was apparently cause for commotion which Gryzzk ignored as he set both weapons in place, the Javelin in a polearm socket and the dagger buried point-first at the left edge of the podium. He let the Javelin drop a few inches as he placed it, allowing the campaign ribbons affixed to it a chance to flutter and make the uninformed curious about their origin. Finally he set his tablet in front of him with his prepared remarks as well as a few salient figures. He looked outward - fortunately the lighting was indirect, allowing him to look up and take in the entirety of Parliament in session. The members of the Common House had been placed in the rear, with the Noble House exercising their privilege to be seated up front. Further to that the noble clans most aggrieved by his actions were front and center. Their baleful scent could be easily detected by Gryzzk's nose, reminding him yet again that this was going to be a day of reckoning, after a fashion. At the topmost section was the viewing gallery that had been all but filled with the battalion and other mercenary Legions from New Casablanca. Above them all, a holoprojector displayed Gryzzk and the immediate area. Gryzzk looked around with a calm of sorts settling over him as he spoke.

"Members of Parliament; as I was examining the most recent revision of this proposed law I was often reminded of a singular question. 'To whom the good?' Who benefits from this law? A casual reading states only the general terms of Greatclans that qualify, indicating to the reader that the funds collected will be distributed to clans and Greatclans named under the Recapture Act. Herein lies my first issue. Another law must be referenced to make proper determination. Further to this the individuals who are subject to this tax are similarly occluded; only those sworn to a Freeclan not subject to the direct jurisdiction and sovereignty of a Greatlord. Does this include the Hurdop? Terrans? Our new friends the Pavonians? The Moncilat? Looking at the rosters of personnel, there are over two hundred couples born of different allegiance diligently working to create a new generation - including more than a few of the Freenobles of our worlds. When that new generation comes to fruit, how many worlds will look at them with the scent of revenue filling their minds? This law does not address these points with any due care for the future." Gryzzk spread his hands and looked up as if asking the gods for wisdom.

The quiet was filled almost immediately by a noble in the back - one of the Lords sworn to Greatlord Aa'Plians, if Gryzzk judged properly. "Who dares to question this noble act? The law is clear to those who have the wit to read it."

Gryzzk shot back almost immediately. "So the witless are excused from the law? If such is the case my good Lord has nothing to fear from any law this august body produces. To that I say nay, and nay again. Even the Thirteenth Lord A'Shanyu spoke of such things; 'Laws must be crafted bearing naught but the very scent of precision to their words and purpose lest there be uncertainty. For uncertainty leads to chaos of the mind, chaos of the mind to chaos of the bod...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/jpitha on 2026-04-17 13:06:58+00:00.

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It turned out I was furious, and nobody was more surprised than me. The Aviens and Mariens in charge here thought they could control us with the gift of a false translator. I bet they watched our arrival with glee. Our power was self evident and through naïveté they thought they could control us.

*<*Damn right they will.>

As I strode along towards the administration building, Ava, Fer'resi and Mei'la struggled to keep up; I was walking with purpose. "Melody!" Ava called out. "If you slow down, we can walk with you and it will look more like a precession than some retainers struggling to keep up!"

She had a point. I specifically dressed like this and applied my mantle in order to impress. Empresses never rushed. We took a moment to get our bearings and look around.

Maybe I shouldn't have stopped.

Everyone was watching us, staring. They weren't running, but shops slammed shutters down, and were quickly bringing chairs and tables closer to exits. Nobody left but people were making sure they were behind something sturdy while still having a view of the promenade. Clearly people were expecting a show of some kind.

Interestingly, the children were not frightened. I saw a small school of kids - all different types - who were peering owlishly through an open door. I met their eyes and spread my wings just a tiny bit and ruffled them while smiling. They all laughed and cheered. They wouldn’t know who I was or what I was doing, but when a women dressed in a beautiful outfit and a crown and wings made of light waves to you, that made for a great day when you're four.

<Good. The children who love you today turn into the adults who teach their children to love you tomorrow.>

We started walking again, this time at a more sedate pace, much more like a procession. While we walked I grilled the Nanites for information.

<Does this station have an AI?>

<No. Builders ran stations, they had no need for computational intelligence.>

<As in they administered them?>

<No, much more...direct than that.>

It's barely been a day, and yet the Reach feels like my station already and I wanted to show it off to my friends, so I turned back towards them and grinned. "What do you think, everyone?"

Ava's head was on a swivel, with wide eyes. "This is amazing Melody, it's so much... more than any stations back home. I wonder if they have shopping?" She gasped. "How do they do money? I wonder if they still have currency or is it all digital? I can't wait to see."

Mei'la’s ears swiveled around trying to hear everything at once and I could see her peering into the edges and corners of places. "They are incredibly wasteful with their power usage; I wonder if they just have that much of a surplus or if we could bring some efficiencies in."

Fer'resi just looked worried, much different than the excitement he had when we first came this way. "I understand why you brought me Emp-er, Melody, but I must admit I am not looking forward to this confrontation."

I scoffed gently and said, "Confrontation? We're just going to go to the administrative offices, explain that we are willing to look at what happened as a mistake and ask for a proper translator. I'm sure it'll be fine." When I said it out loud, I realized that it probably wouldn't go that way. But, I didn't want to worry him.

<It'll be fine.>

<It will be, but not in the way he would prefer.>

<Well, we can't always get what we want.>

As we rounded the final corner to the administrative building, I saw ad hoc barricades made up of whatever they could find - I think some of it were tables and chairs around the building - and a mix of Mariens and Aviens standing guard every meter or so, facing out, weapons free, but not pointing at anyone.

Uh oh. When we got about 3 meters away, the closest one called out. "Halt! The Administrative offices are closed by order of the Administrators. You must come another day."

<Really?> The Nanites could not hide their excitement and I have to admit, it was infectious. I was ready to show them what happened to those who disobeyed. Maybe a very small part of me looked up from the depths of my soul shouting that what I was doing was wrong, but that was easy to ignore.

I put my hands on my hips and looked at them. I spread my golden wings just a bit to look larger. The Aviens who spoke the order looked at me, very nervous. "Thank you citizen." I said kindly, "I appreciate your loyalty to your supervisor; it is to be commended. Now that you have completed your task, step aside and allow us to pass. No harm will come of you - you followed your orders." I gestured back to my team. "As you can see, we are unarmed."

He laughed weakly, "No Builder is unarmed."

I had to admit that he did have a point. When you have a voice that people can't disobey, it's not nothing. I sighed. <He's going to make me say it isn't he?>

<Ugh, Fine.>

sᴛᴇᴘ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ

I said it as gently as I could, but still as one, every Aviens and Mariens moved two steps away from the barricade. The one who spoke to me shuddered and sighed happily. "Ew" I said aloud.

"What was it? Ava asked, looking over at the people I just ordered.

"That one-" I pointed to the Aviens I had been talking to "-liked it when I ordered him around."

"I mean, I get it." Ava said, blushing.

I looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. She blushed harder. "I'm just saying that lots of people really like it when a powerful, beautiful woman orders them around, they don't even have to have the Voice that compels people for them to like it."

"Like, a sex thing?" I asked, confused.

"It can be, but it doesn't have to be" Ava replied, slightly defensively.

"Do you want to be ordered around by me?" I asked. Why did I ask that? I don't know which answer I wanted to hear.

<Even you don't need us for this one.>

She looked away "I wouldn't... mind it." She said.

As we walked in, once again we were in the large, impressive vestibule. Over in a corner was a desk where one of the insect people - I really needed to learn their names - was sitting looking bored. They had a book open and were reading, oblivious to what had happened outside. I strode up to them, and said, "Hello! Please tell me where I can find Starlight on a Moonless Evening or Vivvex please." I tried not to use the voice this time.

Incredibly, they slowly looked at me and their expression did not register one tiny piece of surprise to see me with a crown and wings. "The Regents are in a meeting and have stated that they are not to be disturbed. I can take a message if you would like, they will reply to you by runner within one standard month."

<Amazing. They are utterly unfazed. We should keep this one. They have a skill.>

"That's not necessary,” I said brightly. "You ᴡɪʟʟ direct me to where the Regents are meeting." I attempted to put just a little bit of the voice into the request. I don't know if it worked, it might be an all or nothing thing.

"They're in meeting room 345. It's on the third floor, starward side."

I bowed very slightly and the glowing wings dipped just a bit. "Thank you, friend. What is your name?"

"I am Fel."

"Well Fel, please don't go far. I feel that I'll have a use for you very soon."

"Yes, Empress."

I blinked. "Wait, how did you know I'm the Empress?"

"You were able to get the guards out front to stand down with a word, you are dressed in a very complicated outfit, you look like the statue out front and you have glowing wings and a crown"

<Yes. We like this one.>

"Er, yes. When you explain it like that it does make sense, Thank you Fel."

"Empress." and he turned back to the book he was reading.

Up the stairs and down the hall until I was in front of a room with 345 written on a placard to the side. Next to the door there was a little slider. One one side was "OCCUPIED," and I slid it the other way and it read "OPEN". Offices really were the same everywhere. I felt a little disappointed learning that.

<People are people everywhere, Empress. Why would it be any different than any administration building you're familiar with?>

I tried the door, and it wasn’t even locked. Opening it, I stepped in and-

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to be worried about." Starlight said. They and Rapid River Roaring were talking to Vivvix and Zemmlin. Everyone had their backs to the door. They didn’t have anyone watching the door even though they thought to put up barricades and post guards? Sloppy.

"I'm convinced they don't even know who they are,” Zemmlin said. "They don't have the air of Builders that is for sure, even if they looked like them."

"I agree,” Rapid River Roaring said, taking a sip of something from a steaming mug. "They don't have the organs for the hard work of ruling."

"If that's the case, then let the 'translator' that I gave them do its work. The problem will solve itself." Ottarn was talking over a screen from somewhere else.

I leaned back out of the office - they really hadn’t noticed me - and looked to Ava, Mei'la, and ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/whelmedbyyourbeauty on 2026-04-17 12:59:18+00:00.

You’re not supposed to break cover until you receive a subspace signal or, even better, the Armada burns through the planet’s atmosphere, mech-bays unfolding like a sped-up video of fungi growing, releasing millions of spheres that unfold into large, terrifying, semi-sentient mobile weapons platforms, the sky filling with smoke and the screams of… you get the idea.

None of this has happened, yet, and I’m starting to worry it never will. Ever since I was implanted, I’ve been cooling my heels on this backwater planet that still thinks computers are cool and modern. I have to stop myself from snickering at people three or four times a day.

But not with Elena. She’s cool, she gets me, even if I haven’t told her who I really am—until today.

The diner is quieter than usual, just a few regulars who sit nursing their coffees and teas. I straighten my apron and walk to the counter. “Elena, can I talk to you?”

“Sure, babe, what is it?” She’s wiping the counter and turns her head in a way that makes her look like a puppy.

“Um… I have to tell you something.” I shouldn’t be doing this but even an elite agent like myself gets lonely. I take a deep breath and say, “I’m not like people.”

“I know, babe, that’s what I love about you. I’m not like other people either.”

“No, I’m not people—human, I mean. I’m an alien. An advance scout for a pan-galactic, agressively hegemonizing, militaristic swarm. I was sent to Earth to learn all I could and prepare the way for my people’s invasion.”

I can’t decide what the look on her face means. Panic? Laughter? Both?

She says, “So why do you look human?”

“My mind-state was implanted remotely in a human zygote so I could grow up undetected and provide intel and support if—when—our main forces arrive.”

“You’ve always known you were alien?”

I’m surprised at how calmly she’s taking it. “No, not really. It would have been weird if I had come out of the womb with all the knowledge of the galaxy, right? I began to suspect around twelve, and by sixteen I knew who I really was.”

“Good for you,” she says, and brings her hands up to her face, as if hiding a smile. “But, can you prove it?”

I’m a bit miffed that she’s demanding proof, but I guess this is a lot to take in.

I say, “I could tell you things no human knows about the galaxy, but you’d have no way to check if I’m telling the truth.”

“Try me,” she says with a smirk.

“Um… okay. There are more than one-hundred thousand different galactic civilizations that we know of. My people, the X’lee Monopolity, have conquered over one-percent of them, which doesn’t sound like a lot but is actually pretty impressive.”

“I’m sure,” she says. The smirk is still there.

“The greatest sight in the known universe are the star-foundries of Axzilar, where new stars bootstrap themselves out of sheer aesthetic joy.”

“Sounds amazing,” she says but I can tell she’s having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“I can’t believe it! I thought you of all people would be open-minded and none-judgemental, but you’re laughing at me?”

Now she laughs out loud. “No, no! Please tell me one last amazing galactic fact.”

I’m upset but say, “Um… okay. Cats have evolved convergently on most life-bearing planets—same as crabs— and are especially revered on the ice rings of the planet your scientists call J1407b, where they’ve—“

“Smashed together thousands of ice-asteroids into the shape of a cat that you can see from the surface of the planet?”

“Yes!” It takes me a second to work out what this means. “Wait, how do you know?”

Elena quietly says a phrase in the language of my people: Because I am like you and my mission has the same parameters as yours, except there are all sorts of nuances, rhyming schemes, and wordplay that can’t be rendered with this primitive Earth tongue.

I’m flabbergasted, and answer in the same language, “This is amazing! What are the odds of my one friend on the planet being a fellow agent?” As I say it I calculate the odds—unlike humans, my people have an innate understanding of probabilities—and they’re astronomical, no pun etc.

Elena motions me to be quiet, but it’s too late. Heads turn our way. Elena sighs and says, “I didn’t want you to find out this way, but I guess the milk has been spilled.”

Five of our regulars, Ruth, Orlando, Gerardo, Azucena, and Tali, say in perfect X’leeian, Welcome! and snap their fingers in the traditional happy-you-are-home pattern. The others in the diner don’t say anything but also snap. No one looks surprised.

“What! Who? What?” I say eloquently.

“You know the carrier wave they used to implant our mind-states in the embryos? It was set a little too strong, and a little too wide.”

“So, what, everybody in the diner is an alien?”

“Um… a little more than that.”

“The city? The country?”

“The planet. We’re all aliens. The Armada scrapped the invasion plans. Didn’t seem to be much of a point, you know?”

“But why keep it hidden, if we’re all the same?”

“Most people—aliens included—enjoy the feeling of having a deep, dark secret that nobody knows. It makes their lives seem meaningful. And it’s not like we can do anything with the information, anyway. So we let people figure it out in their own time.”

I say, “No humans, no invasion, no purpose?”

She nods.

“What do we do now?”

“Now?” she looks at her phone, “It’s almost noon, we need to get started on lunch. There should be a rush with all the students back from break.”

“They don’t know?”

“Some do, some don’t. Just behave like usual. Pretend they’re real humans.”

I sigh and fix my apron.

“What’s today’s special?”

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Khenal on 2026-04-16 19:57:08+00:00.

Unseen

As the Harbingers move, so too does the Unseen. It must be careful to avoid notice, even as the enemy scions scramble to deal with the threats. And as the Harbingers have their challenges, so too does the Unseen.

The Sanctum is guarded by a strange variety of dragon, and it is diligent. Even more, there are precious few shadows to be had, so precious few places to slip in. Yet the Harbingers are doing their jobs, the Guardian gazing into the distance, tense as the battles wage, unaware of the true threat so close.

It emerges onto a small statue on a pedestal, moving slowly so as to not draw attention. There is little sound to mask it, so it must walk to its target, instead of flying. Annoying, but not the first time the Unseen has had to creep toward its objective, rather than fly.

On the other hand, it’s so close to the core. Could it simply make the short distance before the Guardian can react? It pauses, gauging the situation, confident the Harbingers will hold the dungeon’s attention for enough time.

The dragon is huge, but the way it stands speaks of surprising reach and agility. It has its tail curled around the base of the core as well, likely prepared to physically pull it away from anything that may get past it. It will have to crawl over the tail if it intends to stay grounded, but scales are much less sensitive than hairs. It should have no trouble staying unnoticed for the traversal.

However, there is an area where the tail doesn’t reach all the way around. That will be the Unseen’s route. Scales are unlikely to notice it, but why even take that chance? And when the Guardian tries to haul the core out of danger, the Unseen will still be there, draining it without the dragon able to identify the source before it’s too late.

Plan in mind, it creeps down the pedestal and toward the large orange sphere, radiating with the grating movement the Master despises! Will it get to becalm the entire hive of noise and motion, once the sanctuary is silenced? Or will it be tasked with returning the bounty to let the Master properly cow and still it, further increasing the Master’s strength?

It will most likely need to return, it decides. The Harbingers are better equipped to still the chaotic mana of this place, though the Master may recall them quickly, too. The Master’s plans are preceding well, but the Unseen has been told many times to not act hastily. How tragic would it be for the plans of aeons to be ruined because of poor timing?

It will be difficult to restrain itself, but the Unseen will hurry back with the bounty once the core is drained. It creeps along the floor, its multifaceted eyes watching the Guardian and the surroundings at once. It will not be taken by surprise by some other protector hiding, letting the large dragon draw the eye and prepare an ambush.

It even peeks at Fate to check the plan, and pauses as possibilities swirl. The dungeon isn’t without contingencies, it seems, but though it appears the Harbingers may be sacrificed, it appears to be none the wiser about the Unseen almost upon its core.

It almost flies away on reflex as it feels something trying to push it away, but it manages to keep its focus and evaluate. If it was discovered, the Guardian would have attacked. It feels at the force, some kind of kinetic trap? It’s linked to the Guardian, but it’s not something being delicately controlled. No, it’s almost an aura, something trying to shove away anything that might come near. The Unseen would smile if it could. A valiant effort, but too little. There is no difference between crawling against the force than climbing up a wall!

It continues, its confidence wavering as the force only increases the closer it gets to the core. It must draw on the Master’s mana to continue, and it is relieved to receive permission to do so. Eliminating the sanctuary is worth the small expenditure. And small it must remain, as to draw the full might of the Master would be to draw the full attention of the sanctuary, and though the Master could destroy it with but a thought, the Unseen is less skilled with such perfect might.

It strains to advance, less than a foot away now, yet it feels like it’s trying to drag a Harbinger behind it! What sort of kinetic trap is this?! It will scour the mind of the sanctuary before it vanishes for the answer. It will be another prize to present to the Master!

It is forced to buzz its wings for extra strength, the core only inches away now! It calls to the Unseen, a beacon blazing brightly, a bounty to bring back to the Master! The Guardian is still distracted! It just needs to reach…

The Guardian is looking at it. It’s smiling.

Panicked, the Unseen draws every last drop it has been allocated, straining against the force that tries to keep it from the core! And then it vanishes.

The core, and the force keeping the Unseen from moving. With nothing to stop it, it barrels forward into a web that wasn’t there an instant ago. The threads stick it fast, but it slips into shadow to escape.

Only to discover the threads bind it, even in shadow. It struggles, begging the Master for more, begging to lay the sanctuary low for the Master! But the answer is no. The Unseen will die and respawn, and the Master will plan from there.

The Unseen allows itself to be drawn into the light, a second Guardian standing beside the first, possibly even larger! An enormous spider watches the Unseen and it fumes at the affront. It is Unseen! Stop looking at it! But the Guardian doesn’t listen, and instead continues to weave threads of more than mere silk around the Unseen, and it finally sees what was hidden.

It knew. A spider with Fate affinity. Strong Fate affinity to not only hide its trap, but to be the perfect counter to the Unseen. Did the sanctuary suspect from the very beginning? Has it been planning this the entire time? How old is it, truly? The core has all the markings of a young one, but the Unseen has never witnessed one so large, with so many scions. What seemed like waste and frivolity may be a careful trap laid for the Master!

A rat steps out of nothingness and smiles at the Unseen. “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. And here you are.”

Kill it!

“Kill you? And send you right back to the Betrayer? How about no? Boss has a much better idea for dealing with you and those Harbingers. So you just sit tight. You’re going to be a bit sideways for a while.”

The Unseen is confused at that statement, but the intent is made clear as things suddenly shift in ways that shouldn’t be possible. It doesn’t know how long the disorientation lasts, but one realization gives it terrifying clarity.

It can’t feel the Master as it should. The connection is still there, but nothing useful is coming through. No intention. No instruction. No orders. It tries to curl in on itself, but the webbing prevents even that. All it can do is float in the night sky, the harbingers somehow floating nearby, also wrapped in silk and Fate.

It doesn’t know how long it drifts before it feels something, and desperately wishes for whatever it is to go away. But no, orange slowly sweeps across the stars before a terrifying void dominates the Unseen’s vision. And despite the physical nothingness there, it knows it is being examined.

“There you are. I guess I’m not the first to realize a strong scion doesn’t need to be anything flashy. It’s hard to imagine anything less flashy than a fly.” The void reaches over and examines the Harbingers as well. “Yep, still abominations. These ones don’t seem as smart as the last one, though that one did just eat a dungeon.”

The Unseen desperately struggles, trying to slip into shadows, to escape the bindings, to do anything, but all is for naught as the void plucks it out from among the stars.

“None of that now. Hmm?” The Unseen would shriek in terror if it could, as it feels something orange along the connection to the Master. “Good, no bars. Your connection’s stronger than theirs, probably because you’re a Conduit.”

The void nods to itself and sticks the harbingers together, then attaches the Unseen as well, before somehow fastening them all in place. “You guys stay right there. I have some friends coming over that are going to want a look at you. Should be fun.”

The Unseen can feel the void smiling. “Probably not for you, though. We need to know how you tick, and how to get to the Betrayer. They only sealed him last time, but he’s still causing trouble. I think it’s time to do to him what he tried to do to me.”

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Cover art I'm also on Royal Road for those who may prefer the reading experience over there. Want moar? The Books are available here! There are Kindle and Audible versions, as well as paperback! Also: Discord is a thing! I now have a Patreon for monthly donations, and I have a Ko-fi for one-off donations. Patreons can read up to three chapters ahead, and also get a few other special perks as well, like special lore in the Peeks. Thank you again to everyone who is reading!

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Psychronia on 2026-04-17 09:07:37+00:00.

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Status Check

(Kara POV)

Kara Lewis stumbled a bit as she sprinted through the halls.

The docks where the Nysis ship landed was predictably under heavy security. When she and her mother arrived, they were naturally barred access until the situation could be confirmed by the Coalition officers.

Left to fidget and fret in a waiting room, she could only speculate despite her mother's reassurances.

When the intruder's soldiers had guns pointed at her and her father, Vellick got him to stop by calling for a something-rite. A Horez rite? Howriz? Huress?

Whatever it was, Innus was too busy helping her into his pod to explain.

What did it mean? What happened to uncle Garag? Vellick? Innus? Everyone at the volunteer center?

Were any of them injured? If it's a diplomatic ship, would it be Garag or some other ambassador?

There weren't many of them for the Uvei, but she didn't know if that meant he would come personally for a lack of different options or if he couldn't because he was needed in Kristole.

Finally, there was knock on the door before Captain Borlaug came in accompanying a familiar friend.

"Garag!"

Breaking out of her mother's hold, Kara immediately ran over and leapt up to embrace the Uven. He promptly got on one knee to return the embrace with his arms and tail curled around her.

"Kara...I am glad to know you are well. Your father...how is he?!"

"....."

"He's in the infirmary wing, but..."

"Ah...you must be Elora. Ambassador Kent speaks of you, and Kara resembles you. So he is alive?!"

As her mother took over for the talk and Kara pulled away, she felt something get caught on her sleeves.

It was Garag's scales.

On closer inspection, his body sagged a bit more than before, his eyes were sunken, and scales were shedding off him.

She never officially learned what this meant, but she had seen it a few times at the volunteer shelter, and it was usually on the more miserable Uvei. Garag was...going through a lot.

"Garag, what..."

Kara clenched her fists. The burning question in the pit of her stomach ended up getting stuck in her throat.

"...so we don't know when he'll wake up. But we're hoping he will."

"I...May I go see him?"

The girl immediately grabbed Garag's arm at his question and fished for the pass in her bag.

(Garag POV)

Poor girl.

From the moment he saw her, Garag could tell that young Kara had been having a hard time. The human's head-fur was disheveled, her eyes were sunken and red, and her body language was lethargic.

He had already been dreading to learn of his friend's fate and seeing his daughter like that made his blood run cold.

Fortunately, it wasn't quite the worst case scenario yet. Kent still lives, and that was enough for him to flatten his tail in relief.

As he hastily stomped through the halls of the S.S. Kevak, the residents of the station and diplomats recoiled and shrunk back even more than usual while he passed. Even with Kara hanging from his back while he sprinted, their expressions were both far too glum and tired to inspire the usual sense of levity.

...No doubt Karnak's little stunt here left the Uvei in a worse position than ever. However, Garag was oddly happy to ignore these concerns.

He was used to being treated as a pariah. What was important was that the one who reached out to him was harmed and that could not stand.

There was a growing list of reasons for him to want that miserable wretch Karnak dead, and striking at the friend who reached out to help their people was near the top.

Soon, they reached the infirmary where a few uniformed Fendansi officials were obstructing the way to Kent's wing.

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't allow outsiders to see him at this time. He is still in recovery from the surgery."

From the look in their eyes, they were prepared to fight him on this. On top of a stature greater than even the Uvei, they were one of the Elder species with standing armies and a higher than average aggression index.

"But I..."

"He's not an outsider. He's a close friend."

A human woman came walking up behind him. Ah...one of Kent's colleagues.

"Ambassador Rogov. It is good to see you again."

She flashed a confident smile.

"It's Councilwoman now. Or at least, for now. I figured I'd find you here, Ambassador Vedin. We have a lot to talk about, but for now..."

Her gaze returned to the Fendansi.

"I'm sure you want to see Kent. Go ahead. Kara...do you mind staying here to sign some permission slips so he can get in?"

"Ah...yes..."

Kara slowly slipped off his back. Did riding his back cause her to doze off a little? She sounded drowsy.

Garag didn't-he couldn't say anything. All he could do was watch helplessly at his sleeping friend.

The arm was, naturally, gone. A device he was all too familiar with was surgically installed in the stump. It was an adapter for prosthetic limbs that was made to accommodate switching between and trying all manner of limbs.

Apparently, using synthetic meat technology to regenerate a limb of flesh and blood wasn't impossible, but it usually felt too unnatural for humans to the point that non-biological limbs were less mentally taxing.

Garag suppressed a guttural growl as emotions came bubbling up. He couldn't help but feel that Nysis's fires of war ended up spreading to the humans in the end.

He slowly rose to his feet and left, content to see Kent still breathing. With the hope that the humans gave him, his friend would wake up again. And if he didn't...he would grieve after doing what must be done.

When he stepped out, Councilwoman Lana was seated in a corner of the waiting room with the dozing Kara and Missus Elora Lewis beside her.

Seeing the girl like this reminded him of how he hadn't eaten or slept since the incident himself. He would need his rest to do his job moving forward. But before that...

"...Thank you for your patience. Now I believe you wanted to talk?"

(Lana POV)

The four of them ended up relocating to Lana's office for a private chat. Kent's office was closer, but...they didn't need further distractions.

"The finer details are here, but I shall summarize them."

Garag reached into a folder strapped to his side and placed it on the table. The Councilwoman took the folder and started flipping through it while the Uven spoke.

"When the footage was released, many Uvei across many nations revolted. Especially in the ones explicitly named in the videos. The nations that were not named quickly and vocally condemned the ones that did. There's some...tenuous history and strained relations between many of them, but they were unified by the common enemy enough to form an alliance."

The Uven Ambassador used a digital map that Lana pulled up to illustrate his report.

"Of the ninety-four nations that were named, twenty of them fell to ruin and thirteen of them had successful coups. The leadership in the remaining nations..."

He paused, frowning and furrowing his brow.

"They...regained control of the unrest in their nations and formed their own uneasy alliance for the purpose of self-defense. Many of them maintain that the evidence was all faked and an attempt by the weaker enemy to eradicate them. Karnak has been especially vocal about this using his position at the Crown Summit. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say Nysis is now in a World War involving these two sides."

"...I see. What do-"

"W-Why did Karnak stop when Uncle Vellick mention that 'Horiz Rite' thing?"

"........"

When Kara interrupted Lana's question, Garag fell in a contemplative silence for a time, debating something with himself.

Eventually, he let out a soft sigh and looked right at Kara.

"The Heurez Rite is, in short, an archaic tradition for a duel with territory and manpower as the wager. The chieftain it was named after used it in hopes of reducing bloodshed and even unifying the world. Vellick invoked it because part of the rules is that none of either sides' subordinates or allies may be harmed until a duel in one day's time. Nobody really uses it today, but Karnak was pleased to accept because he idolizes the old days and...needed the manpower."

Garag clenched his hand. He took to cutting his claws a long time ago since they were only obstacles to diplomacy, so he was one of the rare few Uven who could form a fist.

"And so, the day after you departed, Vellick had the duel with Karnak. And lost."

"......"

"L...Lost? What do you mean 'lost'?"

Kara's breath grew heavy. Her mother tried to hold her, but she pulled away with her gaze fixed on Garag. The Uven's gaze broke away first.

"I mean that he was defeated in the public duel and executed."

It was Lana's turn to contemplate this new information in silence. This...was bad in all manner of ways. What would she tell Kent? What of the Folstur rescues in Kristole? What influence did Karnak have now?

"I...but...What about Innus?"

"I...don't know. Per the Heurez Rite, I spent the next two days tra...transferring all of Vellick's authority and assets to the victor. I didn't see him again after the duel, and I'm officially here to report and record this transfer of titles."

"You're just ...

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/b1g_d3ck_3n3rgy on 2026-04-17 04:52:26+00:00.

I had never seen a creature so perfect. Digestion, not merely a chemical reaction but a symphony of biology. Microbes and bacteria eating and excreting without input. I remember the hazard warning when assessing this creature's excrement. Warning lights blaring, I thought: How does this creature live?

It thinks, this creature. It creates. We couldn’t contain it. What the hell was this thing? We gave it everything it needed. Food wasn’t hard to simulate, neither was water. Water, this thing was made primarily of it. We gave it water. So much water. It kept ingesting it. Like a sickness the creature just kept putting it into its primary intake.

These creatures, they want stimuli. Once we provided it an empty room with food and water. In the room we put a small device with a button. Upon pushing the button, a small electrical shock was administered. The creature pushed the button once and immediately reacted in a negative way. Expected, nothing to report. Then it pushed it again. Then it pushed it again and again and again and again. We quickly relocated it back to the wild.

We kept analyzing, every discovery shocking us to our core. What had we discovered? I told my superiors and they didn’t believe me. They didn’t respond until we told them of its so-called language. I call it that because it has no language. We captured many specimens and put them together. They couldn’t communicate. It appears this creature has not one but many languages. However; after many days, a rudimentary form of communication formed between the specimens. Soon, a system was formed to distribute food and water. 

We looked in further. Dialing the microscope in each day, we found weird thing after weird thing. For instance, the death fruit. An exaggeration to be sure, the death fruit was a food these creatures ate that seemed to be evolved to not be eaten. It caused irritation when eaten, and sometimes, with some death fruit with contact alone. Did these creatures avoid it, as we would? No, they appeared to have bred it to its fullest strength and eaten it. This gave my superiors a start and they soon funded more research. 

They ate and drank that which was rotten. Multiple local flora, they took and let sit in a controlled environment. The end result appeared not to matter. They would drink and eat the result. Analysis of this product produced results concerning to any biologist. Bacteria through the whole of it. One such product was especially prized by some of the specimens. A green cylinder, when grown, it was a great source of many nutrients, however, many of the specimens preferred it to be aged in a glass container. We watched in horror as they consumed them. Dozens of them per specimen. No reaction recorded except an apparent happiness.

The next curiosity was an apparent poison that they consumed without fear. A result of bacteria mixed with sugar, when presented to the creature, a precarious result was presented. All specimens, regardless of origin, began to gesticulate wildly. On further analysis, the writhing of these creatures had a pattern. 

I can not write more today as sirens have told me to evacuate, but I will continue to write when the all clear has sounded.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/BortoRico on 2026-04-17 01:48:32+00:00.

Prologue First Last  

A/N: About 12 hours after I posted the last chapter (24), I went through and made some slight adjustments to Millie's point of view. I try to keep the narrative third person limited, but I feel I might've strayed a little too far - it sounded a bit like I, as the author/narrator, was absolutely trashing Millie for being an idiot.

That was not my intention.

Millie's convinced she's the most worthless person alive, and I was trying to reflect her own self-hatred in that part of the chapter. I apologize if I bungled that a bit when I first posted.

Anyway, if you didn't notice, carry on!

Enjoy!

P.S.

I reckon we're headed back to Letura for the next chapter...

January 5th, 5366 CE

Great Spruce Isle, Home of Alex and Ellie Wyeth, The Sitting Room

North American Continent, Gulf of Maine, Earth

Rafferty Mainz

Raff eyed the Earth human sitting across from her warily.

Much like herself, Ellie Wyeth was sitting idly on one of the plush, cream-colored sofas situated in the reasonably spacious drawing room of the Wyeth family home.

Sitting idly – because the girl hardly seemed interested in answering her questions, or even holding a conversation, for that matter.

Raff sighed and looked around the foreign – the alien – drawing room. It all felt like such a waste of time. They needed to be discussing the means by which she could return home, not sitting down on a pair of sofas while fidgeting about like scolded schoolchildren.

She took a deep breath and tried to relax: to remain both patient and polite.

Late afternoon sunlight was streaming through window at her back, warming her neck and shoulders as its luminous rays passed through the large expanse of glass behind her. Motes of dust hanging in the air were illuminated by the sunbeams that brightly lit up the home’s interior despite the wintry scene outside.

Despite the severity of the situation, she couldn’t help but feel her tense muscles relax in the warmth – even if only slightly.

Were it not for the fact she’d just been teleported outside in the frigid cold of another planet’s winter not half an hour earlier, she might’ve been inclined to think it was too warm in the well-appointed space.

She had a million questions for the other young woman in the room, but nearly every thread Raff pulled seemed to snap off at the slightest of tugs by the seemingly disinterested Earth human.

So much for divulging something. Ellie hadn’t properly answered a single question she’d asked!

After ten minutes of stilted conversation, she as beginning to think the girl had a screw or two loose.

Or actually, perhaps it was an entire bag of nuts and bolts.

Ellie Wyeth had spent more time looking up at the ceiling with a scowl on her face than actually attempting to hold a conversation. Raff hadn’t the faintest clue what the girl found so fascinating about textured plaster, but she wasn’t about to ask.

It didn’t help matters that she was dressed as if she’d just escaped from an insane asylum. Gray cotton trousers and a sweater to match? Was that what passed as fashion on Earth? As something a reasonable person would don voluntarily? The girl’s father’s attire wouldn’t have looked too far out of place in Leiftenburg.

Raff pushed those wasteful thoughts from her mind.

She glanced back towards the home’s kitchen. Her host had taken the two Sahkhar girls to the basement – which was already disturbing enough – and she hadn’t heard a peep from them since.

Alexander Wyeth had quietly requested that she remain put while he took the two girls downstairs to god knows where, and she’d complied without any objections. Now she was wondering whether or not she should have requested to join, insane as it sounded.

There were many unspeakable reasons he might wish to separate the group and Raff shuddered at the thought. What if…?

If didn’t matter that they were Sahkhar – they deserved to be treated fairly.

No… It wasn’t as if she would be able to do anything about it in the first place, even if she wanted to. She was on the smaller side of average, and she didn’t have a weapon. It’d be foolish to even try.

So, there she sat, awkwardly waiting around for something, anything, to happen. Raff let her eyes continue to wander around the room. The home was spacious enough, and while it wasn’t nearly as grand as Windcliffe back in Stuekbroad, the estate she called home, it was clear that the Wyeth family possessed a fair amount of wealth.

Or at least she thought they must.

The ample float-glass windows that surrounded her on two sides of the room were large, possessing a level of optical clarity that matched the best Leiftenburg had to offer, and the room’s furnishings, while far from ornate, were clearly well made.

She scrutinized the construction of the coffee table by her feet. While plain in design, it possessed a precision that spoke volumes of the carpenter’s mastery and competence.  

It was if the craftsman had intentionally refrained from highlighting their skill; rather, they had purposefully avoided introducing overly elaborate carvings and other inane accoutrements into their work – as if they were well aware they had nothing to prove.

Tucked over in the far corner of the room sat some kind of harpsichord, the swooping instrument finished in highly polished black in lieu of heavily polished woodgrain, as was common in similar instruments back home.

Part of her wanted to stand up and walk over to the instrument; to sit down and see if it was close enough to a harpsichord that she might be able to play, but it very clearly wasn’t the time.

Raff was staring at the beautiful instrument with curiosity when Ellie’s voice startled her.

“Have you got instruments like that back on Letura?” the girl asked abruptly.

Once her heart had descended back into her chest, Raff turned towards the blonde-haired girl, who remained sunken deep in the cushions of her sofa, seemingly without a care in the world. She almost seemed bored of the whole affair.

Raff cleared her throat. “Yes? Something similar in form at least.”

Of course, she actually had no idea if that was true or not. God only knew what the instrument’s keyboard – if it even had one – looked like underneath the polished lid.

The blonde-haired girl tapped her lips and furrowed a brow. “Huh. Could be convergent evolution, I suppose.”

Raff was surprised to hear the term. Evolution was considered newfangled science back in Leiftenburg. “Is that something your people believe in? As in, the origin of species, and how they came about?” she asked, intrigued. Perhaps the girl would actually start talking.

To her surprise, Ellie nodded. “Precisely.”

Raff awkwardly fiddled with her shirt. “Oh, it’s something of a new theory in Leiftenburg.” She cleared her throat, unsure of where she was going with this. “Most scientists believe the Sahkhar and humans share a common ancestor, but don’t tell the Sahkhar that.”

“Oh, why not?” Alexander’s daughter asked.

Despite the precariousness of her situation, Raff couldn’t help but let out a breath of air through her nose. “Because they believe they’re god’s greatest gift to sapient-kind. To imply that they shared any relation with filthy humans would no doubt send them into a tizzy,” she said sarcastically, waving a hand. “Those people are unbelievably vain.”

Ellie scrunched her face up and shifted in the sofa. “Oh, interesting. Humans often think the same thing here on Earth. Bit annoying to people like me, if I’m honest. I–”

She suddenly paused, tilted her head back up towards the ceiling, and scowled even more deeply than she’d already been scowling.

What was with the girl? And what the hell did she mean, “people like me”? Those above, she wished Alex would come up from the basement, preferably with the two Sahkhar girls safely in tow. She was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

Raff shook her head. The girl was far too scatterbrained to have any hope of receiving a proper answer. Instead, she segued into another, adjacent subject. “So, uh, are there Sahkhar here on Earth?”

Ellie shook her head promptly. “Nope, nothing of the sort, far as I know.”

“Oh.”

Raff had no idea where to go from there.

With that, more awkward silence ensued, and the blonde-haired girl continued with her utterly strange habit of looking up at the ceiling with a scowl every so often. Instead of trying to engage the girl, Raff allowed her eyes to continue wandering around the room.

At some point her gaze happened upon the wall directly behind Ellie’s head.

Standing there, on an interior wall, was a rustic stone hearth, and hanging above the fireplace there was a long rifle of beautiful make – something well in her wheelhouse as a daughter of the Mainz family. She wasn’t sure why it’d taken her so long to notice it before.

Raff cleared her throat. “What kind of rifle is that?” she asked before she thought better of it. Perhaps it wasn’t the time to be inquiring about weapons, of all things. She didn’t have the faintest clue where these people’s allegiance may lie.

Ellie frowned, looked back up at the ceiling for a moment, and turned her head. “That’s a Sharps Model 1874. Some kind of ancient weapo...

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