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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Far-Help6106 on 2025-07-02 11:43:39+00:00.

Chapter 1

Chapter 33

I felt myself loose my footing as the ground around me burst into chaos. 

Then there were bugs all around me. Warriors. Laser beams and plasma shot filled the air. The warriors encircled me, their lasers intensified and the ablative plating of my suit was taking a beating. The suit’s integrity was slowly decreasing but I wasn’t going to stay around long. I lifted my weapon and opened fire. Aim, shot, hit. Bug entrails splattered on the ground. The thirty or so warriors that had ambushed me were falling one by one and I saw a hole form in their formation. They kept on harassing me but it seemed that the bugs had put their thinking hat on. Only four of them attacked me at a time. My prism was cycling and a thunderous crack bellowed from my weapon. I had forgotten how loud it could be in atmo. I pressed the trigger again and a trail of light erupted, leaving death and destruction in its wake. 

The cliff side I had been on vaporised in an instant as my weapon’s kinetic power propelled its shot at impossible speeds. With every shot I took, scores of bugs were instantly annihilated and rendered unto dust. Shot and my left flank was clear. Shot and my right flank was clear. I felt good. Keep on moving. Aim, shoot, move. 

I guess that’s when I got cocky. I had stopped for about ten seconds, shooting down warriors who were rushing me. Then I was hit. One of the bugs had bodied me and pushed me to the ground. As I fell, I turned around and slapped the bug’s head off. A gush of gore plastered my chest and half my face. At that moment, I was very happy that my suit was hermetically sealed. I hit the ground and knew I needed to get back to my feet. I tried to get up off the ground but a group of bugs jumped on my back and started clawing at my armour. 

I knew that every second I stayed in this position was decreasing my chances of getting out of here alive. I tried to lift my weapon but, being prone, I couldn’t aim high. I shot wildly but the bugs seemed to have anticipated that and made a corridor that left them unharmed. Shit. I rolled over on my back and punched the jump jets. They would at least get me off the ground. I know they’re supposed to be used on the float but they still worked in atmo. 

I hit the jump jets, the hump on my back roaring to life and I heard the bugs scatter behind me as I lifted off the ground. I managed to turn mid-air, avoiding incoming laser fire and unloaded on them, round after round. It didn’t even matter what they hit. The kinetic force behind my Prism was enough to damage the bugs wherever they stood. Fifty, fifty-five, sixty rounds later, the terrain was pockmarked with craters. I scanned the area with grim satisfaction. Clear. No sign of life.

We were here to take AC back. We weren’t going to muck about. Even if we had to scar AC to the bone, we would wrench her from the bugs’ grasp. 

I was still slowly coming down to the surface. There were a few bugs scurrying under me, concussed and firing widely at anything. Being in no immediate danger, I looked around and realised there were no apparent reinforcements coming. I hit the ground and took off at a sprint towards the three warriors that had survived my barrage of fire. Running at full speed, I closed the gap in seconds. Before I could form the thought consciously, my fist rose, aiming for the closest bug’s cranium. The servos in my suit amplifying my movement, I punched with a force, fuelled by training, power and pure hatred, right through the warrior bug’s head. It flee straight off its shoulders. For a second, the only moving thing was that warrior. Its body still pushed forward by some unholy instinct. Luckily, it lasted only a few paces before it collapsed, quite dead. That seemed to be the signal for the others to flee. I looked down at my reading and saw that chem analysis had picked up on the bugs’ fear pheromones. 

‘Good,’ I thought, ‘Let that bug tell its buddies we were here. Let them know fear.’

I took a breath and consciously tried to calm myself for the moment. I found myself reciting the mantra the normies had created.

“Heavenly Father guide us through the night, for we bask in your light. Holy Mother…”

I was cut off by a call on the radio.

“Calling on all frequencies. This is Sergeant Teddy Cole calling all invading forces. I am with fifty or so soldiers. We are in the ruins of Alpha Primeris. We have set up a command post to act as an advanced position before reinforcements arrive.”

I looked down at my radar. Alpha Primeris. Two hundred kliks, South West. 

I took stock of my surroundings and realised that the bugs that lay dead on the ground were not being backed up. I stood alone on this rocky shelf, surrounded by twitching chitine and viscera. 

I felt myself slowly coming back and realised that I would need to regroup or I would be toast. 

I scoped around and took stock of my surroundings, mountainous terrain. I was still 50 klicks north of where the main attack force was being deployed.

I started off at a sprint. Due South, right where radar was telling me Sarge and Kitten were.

I ran and ran and ran. Even at full speed and armoured, it would take me an hour. As I huffed and puffed in my armour, closing the distance between me and the triangles that represented Sarge, I couldn’t help but smile as I thought. We were back. Finally, we would be taking Alpha Centauri back off these monsters. 

I scanned the horizons and saw bright flashes lighting up the horizon. Nuclear in nature. I guess the normies were having fun off to the East. I looked down quickly at my radar and noticed that most of the unit was making its way to where Sarge was, due South. I focussed on the area where the nuclear strikes seemed to be concentrating and noticed no beacons. It wasn’t us nuking the bugs. 

As I ran, I decided to make my way to where the flashes were coming. 

I opened coms to Sarge of what I was doing but got no response. I focussed on the map and saw their beacons still active. They were fine. I needed to focus on what was around me. My radar indicated that a bunch of normies was not far so I called out, “This is Specialist Haze. Contacting engaging forces of grid 35 quadrant 500. I am on my way to your position. ETA 10 minutes.”

For a few minutes, there was no response and, as I ran, I wondered what sort of hornets’ nest I was running into. Then came a response, “My Lord? We’re…” “… bugs…” “position…”

Dammit, I guess the nukes screwing up with coms. What struck me though was the tone. Gone was the fear that usually accompanied the normies’ pleas. They seemed angry, focussed. I don’t know. I always found it difficult to understand emotions like that. 

I let my Prism loose and knew that if I regrouped with the normies, I would have to stop using my weapon for fear of harming them. I looked around and saw a group of flying bugs. I lifted my weapon to take aim when the sky around them exploded in a rain of blades. The bugs’ chitinous microfibres were shredded and I watched them plummet to the ground like a rock. My suit calculated the impact point and I ran to the impact point. When I got there, I found a group of thirty or so normies, surrounding the fallen bug. They were cheering, screwing, howling and jeering. They waved their weapons at the bug, some were pinning the fallen bug to the ground while others got busy ripping it apart, all semblance of military discipline forgotten. 

I slowly walked down to the small dip the soldiers were beating the bug to death. As I walked and the soldiers started noticing me, the roar of anger abated and I noticed the bug’s pitiful moans. My anger at this thing grew with every step. With every meter that brought me closer to it, I felt my heart beat faster, the angry pulse in my head increased.

The soldiers around me knelt when they realised I was there and as I got to the bug’s level, I looked around and saw that the angry mob around me had formed a circle of kneeling soldiers. With the soldiers on the ground, I was offered an unimpeded view of the surroundings. There were rivers of red that had started to pool in the lower crags of the hilly terrain where I now stood. I looked and saw hundreds of dead soldiers littering the hills, and hundreds more of dead bugs. 

My suit had picked up all the normies around me as I saw the number 230 appear on my display. I stood there and asked, “Who is in charge?”

There was barely a pause when a chorus of voices echoed against the hills, “You are, my Lord.”

Well, I mean, yes but not what I meant. 

I hesitated a second and looked at the amassed forces of Humanity. 

One of their number seemed to understand and stood up, “I am the ranking officer, my Lord.”

My suit focussed on his uniform. Bars. A Captain. Apparently, Captain Singh. 

“Captain Singh, good job. I am regrouping with the rest of my unit. A command post has been set up in Alpha Primeris. 249 kliks from this position. How quickly can you close that distance?”

There was a pause as this bald Captain was clearing calculating how long it would take for his force to close the distance. He sighed and said, “Without an airlift or mechanised transport, probably around 70 hours, my Lord. I won’t be able to do better than 3 days. And that is if we don’t encounter any bugs.”

I frowned in my armour and slo...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Muzolf on 2025-07-02 11:14:54+00:00.

The general alarm had a distinct annoying ring to it, specifically made to wake up a sleeping sauromantian. He looked at the clock hanging above his bunk, he was way too tired to have slept for any lenght.

"So much for being half ways to home." He shook himself and grabbed the suit he left tossed by the side.

The weapons officer was not surprised, nor too pleased to find everyone else already on their posts.

"What do we have?"

"They scattered their drones to look for us, on a wide path. We ran out of vectors to hide in a few minutes ago." The Commander responded without looking away from her screen.

"I see only one, at extreme range." He studied the tactical display as he was getting back into his chair. He knew he was not going to like the explanation where the others went.

"They disappeared just now."

"Shall i make ready for mine deployment? We have a few more of those makeshift bombs still. Hate to admit it, but if the one worked, they might be our remaining hope." He switched on the weapons console to make the calculations.

"Make ready but don`t start dropping them yet! Nav, i need a course correction! Keep the last one on the screen in the dark, and lets accelerate a bit."

"By your command!"

As the ship was turning, the weapons officer looked up. "I am assuming engineering is not done yet? We cannot go to sublight?"

The Commander flicked a switch on her console, opening the intercom to engineering.

"Whatsiit again?! Little bit busy here, and could do without distractions, or the ship turning for that matter!" Came the high pitched squeaking of a chirrik talking in broken neomanti.

Ralgas eyes went wide, and he was not the only one. "The heck are the rodents doing in there?"

"Helping, Koz is actually a trained engineer and has some understanding of bluespace dynamics."

"We are really scraping the bottom of the batter here, are we?" Ralga sighed.

"We are so dead!" the nav officer was burying her face in her hands.

"Wow, i can still hear you all you know! When i am done saving all your scaly butts, we will have a little chat about respect around here!" The intercom closed abruptly.

-x-

-x-

"Disappeared again."

"No matter, the drones know the general area they are in. Once there, they will engage a basic search pattern, and that will be enough, they will have nowhere to go.

"Good, good." The captain nodded. "And Mark. I appreciate the show, but it is a bit unnecessary. I hope the last drone broadcasting did not came at the cost of their effectiveness?"

You always find the downside in everything, dont you.` he thought to himself. "One of the drones would have to stay back and coordinate anyhow, plus its damaged. No need to risk it blowing itself up if its weapon were to malfunction. So why not also giving us a clear picture?"

"You said it was all green."

"Sure i did, and were it our only option, i would have used it still. But its not."

"Fair enough, and if this goes south, we still got your plan B." Garland sat back in his chair, looking a bit more relaxed.

"Why are they cloaked now? This looks like unnecessary strain on their coils." Miss Blair chimed in.

"I did not exactly have time to rewrite their whole hunter-killer protocol. The assumption was that they would go after prey that is unaware of them, and that we would engage this protocol at a much shorter range. Don`t worry, they will re-emerge before they would overload."

"All of this would not been a problem without Internal Affairs hamstringing us with red tape. If we could have placed AI on them." The captain mused in a sour tone. Mark was not going to remark on that, let the old man redirect his ire at the bureaucrats.

They all watched together, as in the next minutes, the three drones reemerged and started doing their search. What was surprising, is seeing their target now. There was a clear heat signature, not trying to hide. Not just that, but the halfways restored bluespace sensors were picking up something.

"That`s new, we never seen them do this before."

"It looks like, they are booting up engines. Preparing to jump out." The science officer set her display on the main screen.

"Impossible, we knocked out their hyperdrive at the start!" The Captain leaned forward, his hands clenched in fists.

"Another decoy like the last bluespace signature?"

"No, this is bigger! I have no other explanation, their hyperdrive had to survive the interdictor missile."

"Whatever it is, all we need are a few seconds, the drones are nearly there!"

Captain Garland was now gnashing his teeth and cursing silently. He saw what was happening, not just the enemy about to jump away, but how they were intentionally exposing themselves. And he had no way of warning the drones, if there was a crew willing or just suicidal enough, or AI that could think for itself, instead of these stupid soulless machines he was forced to use.

The lead drone lunged forward on an attack vector. Its target right in front of it, not even trying to evade. It knew no need, no satisfaction of a well earned kill, only lines in a code, that told it to decloak and fire at this moment. So it did, unloading its guns into an explosion and field of debris that was not there a second ago, blowing itself into pieces as it hit the makeshift mine placed in its path.

-x-

-x-

"Okay, now can we please go to sublight?" The nav officer was shifting nervously, looking at the screens showing an explosion, no sign of the other two phase corvettes.

"What do you think, we put our faith in the member of a species the rest of the stellar community claims we enslaved!" Ralga spit out while uselessly fiddling with the instruments, they were out of everything, missiles, torpedoes, hastily cobbled together mines or flares to throw out. He doubted he could hit a phase ship with the pulse cannons in the split second it would decloak before attacking, but he would certainly try.

"Oh come on now, certainly we earned a bit of trust around here?" The high pitched voice of Koz came from the intercom. "Sure our relationship is not ideal, but would you really assume i would be petty enough to blow myself and my team up just to spite our oh-so generous masters? Especially one as delicate as you Surfa?" The Nav officer blinked at the mention of her name. "Tell you what, we jump now and you owe me a date." And then she went red at hearing this from a member of a species that were at the best of times, considered something closer to pets.

"I be your lair-mate if you want as long as you get us out of here!" She shrieked.

"Sold! No takesies backsies!" Koz chuckled to himself as he watched the drive field countdown reaching zero. He would probably have to ask Correl to explain later, that he had no say about when the jump would happen after they were finished five minutes ago, to avoid getting skinned alive. But it was well worth it.

"Everyone hold on!"

-x-

-x-

The bridge crew of the Troyan watched in silence, as the instruments were showing a short burts of energy, and then nothing. Only the remaining drones decloaking a few minutes later, their processors taking up a futile search pattern again, to look for something the people on the Troyan knew not to be there anymore.

The awkward silence continued as captain Garland sat back in his chair, and picked up a datapad.

"Inform me the moment we have long range communications back, i have a message to send. Also, have the logs of the last ten minutes saved for the design department, to revise the algorithm for the drones with special attention to possible detection and avoiding countermeasures." He paused. "In fact, i want this entire encounter taken apart and analysed for every detail, about the capabilities of our adversary and finding out who in the region could have sent them, as well as what to do in the future."

A few "Yes sir!" and "affirmative" -s could be heard as everyone went back to work. The weapons officer was still standing and staring at him, with an unspoken question. The captain finally looked up after going trough the short reports about repairs that came in during the chase.

"I will be taking full responsibility once Internal Affairs starts their review. Despite what they or even some of us might think, this is not a defeat. Not entirely, and not yet. The rest of the task force could get lucky." Even if his tone betrayed little hope in that. "We now know someone is out there, someone with advanced stealth capabilities not relying on phase fields, shielded hyperdrives that can survive full on exomatter disruption, missiles that put ours to shame. Even if they get me discharged..." He grinned." this will be a wake-up call to all those pencil pushers in the assembly who were demanding cuts to the Navy and RnD budgets for decades."

-x-

-x-

It still took days for the Prowler to get away from its engagement and the alliance patrols that got stirred up like a pissed off nest of hornets. The still degraded drive field was not helping matters, but they could manage it. One of the outer gas giants was remote and hard to monitor enough to be used to jump out of the system.

It was hardly a surprise to find out that they have been reported missing, having limped back much slower as anyone would expect. But once they could reach one of the empires hidden outposts, a rendezvous could be arranged for the Prowler to be towed to the nearest spacedock for repairs and a replacement of its compromised hyperdrive. Back on the Havarkan, Commander Kabas own flagship, a me...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Aeogeus on 2025-07-02 06:44:04+00:00.

First Chapter/Previous Chapter

Gabriel found a bag full of food under a statue commemorating the war dead. The sculpture represented a Kisi, a word that had a similar meaning to Tommy, who fought in a war several hundred years ago. Gabriel quickly put the pieces and asked, “Now, where on Yursu did you get the money for this?”

***

Damifrec wanted to keep flying, but he knew that was panic, a brief flash of fear that clogged his mind. Excessive flying would draw attention, and he had already messed up once; he would not do so again.

He wondered where he had slipped up. Was it his silence? Perhaps he should have swallowed his anger and spoken to the clerks, feigned happiness, or said something, even token words of thanks.

It could have been that, or it might have been the human. Damifrec knew so little about them. He probably should have done a bit of research; probably should have let go for an instant to ask for internet access.

No. No, that was not right. He could not rely on anyone but himself. Anything given to him by anyone was poison fruit he could not trust.

Damifrec touched down at the edge of the park; there were a few people scattered here and there, enjoying the hanging garden as he had. He was annoyed his peaceful moment had been interrupted, but he needed to focus; he walked across the bridge that led to the denser parts of the city and looked across the gap.

A minute ticked by, then two, and Damifrec believed he had lost him, but that sense of relief was short-lived as Gabriel walked out of the trees and looked right at him.

How? Damifrec had taken a twisting route through the park; the landscape and plants had shielded him from view, so how was the alien following him? Was it his sense of smell? He knew some aliens had extremely potent senses.

Damifrec noticed a tram just a few metres away. He fluttered to the vehicle and boarded. He thanked the heavens for free public transport and looked out of the window as his ride pulled away from the park, leaving the human far behind.

Clicking with relief, he began to think about what to do next. The tram had a map of its route on one of the walls, so he studied it. The next stop was a few miles away. Even if the human ran, he would not reach Damifrec in time, but he could not stay on the line forever.

Five stops later, he departed the tram and went one level higher. He walked east, and as he approached a lift, the doors opened, and Gabriel stepped out. He turned to look at Damifrec, who could not believe his eyes.

In short order, he started walking towards the boy, casually as though this was not a chase. Damifrec turned and once again flew away, aiming for the next floor above. Damifrec turned to look behind and could see Gabriel was watching him, his arms folded.

Damifrec quickly concluded he had no time to waste, he needed to get out of the city and fast. He knew from the map he had seen earlier that there was a train station on the highest level; he needed to get there, purchase a ticket, and leave.

Gabriel was evidently a tracker of unparalleled skill, so it would not be out of the question that the human would find him there. If that were the case, Damifrec would need to improvise.

Once he was on the next level, he located the nearest lift going up and entered. There were a few people on it, but he was so paranoid about his pursuer that Damifrec could not even be bothered to get angry about it; he pressed the button for the top floor and waited impatiently.

Damifrec was clearly acting as nervous as he felt because one of the people onboard asked, “Are you okay, son?”

Damifrec said nothing, but he once again suppressed his desire to strike them. If he attacked someone, they would probably detain him, call the police, and he would definitely be caught then.

An idea flashed in his mind. He could tell them he was being stalked by a strange alien. He could use his nervousness and his age as a weapon to trick them into protecting him from Gabriel. It was a brilliant plan. Even if it only worked for a few moments, it would give him the time he needed.

But to do that would mean admitting that he needed help. That he needed an adult's help. He tried to suppress the feeling, ignore it, and admit weakness this one time. It was manipulation, not dependency. He could do it. He could.

Yet when he tried to speak, the word would not form. The level of disgust he felt for himself was unimaginable. It was stupid, but Damifrec kept silent; he would do this himself and succeed.

 Once they had reached the top, Damifrec ran from the lift, leaving behind a lift full of confused and concerned adults.

The station was several miles away from here. Fortunately for Damifrec, there was a shuttle between here and there, so Damifrec boarded the first one he could get to and waited impatiently, constantly checking the time and the view, as though he could will the bus to get to its destination sooner.

He was also keeping an eye out for Gabriel. The alien had an almost unnatural ability to travel throughout the city. Damifrec had no idea how he was doing it. He knew for a fact that he could not fly.

The shuttle stopped at the station and immediately headed for the ticket booth. The station was not only on the top layer of the city but also on its border. Beyond the concrete and metal was the natural world—a vast scrub forest filled with wildlife. Under different circumstances, Damifrec would have loved the view and might have even done a little exploring, looking for vunalak or imak, now though there was only one thing on his mind.

Damifrec had reached the self-service kiosk when he noticed something moving. He turned his head to see Gabriel sitting on a chair.

Damifrec’s brain nearly broke as he realised that not only had the human not only gotten here before him, but someone had known he would be there. While Damifrec had been worried before, true instinctual panic started to set in. Damifrec ran for the wilderness, and once he was free of the building, he started to fly.

Behind him, Gabriel began to steadily jog after the boy.

Damifrec was pushing his body hard, perhaps too hard. He had already spent so much time in the air already, and now he was adding over six minutes of continuous flying to that stress.

Tufanda were not built for long-distance flight. They had evolved in canyons, their wings, lungs and heart built for manoeuvrability and short bursts to get them from top to bottom and from one cliff wall to the other.

His fear allowed him to ignore much of the strain, but eventually, his muscles gave out, and he was forced to glide to the earth. He was grounded now. His wing muscles had locked up from the strain; every bump and jolt of walking sent spikes of pain through his body.

He slowed, but he did not stop, despite knowing that without his wings, he was all but finished. The human would have all the advantages now, but even so, Damifrec ran as best he could.

The terrain was level but uneven, and more than once, Damifrec was reduced to a slow walk to make it over the next hurdle. It was awful being unable to fly; he had no idea how aliens lived with it their entire lives.

Panting heavily, Damifrec looked behind and could see Gabriel steadily jogging towards him. He wanted to rest. He needed to rest; he was quickly burning through all the calories he had eaten, overheating under the midday sun, and becoming dehydrated.

Yet despite being under the same conditions as Damifrec, Gabriel was not slowing down, he kept up the same steady pace, determined to run Damifrec into the ground.

After a mile of running, Damifrec collapsed, utterly unable to keep up the effort any longer. He had given it everything he had, and it had proven inadequate.

Seeing that Damifrec was done, Gabriel picked up the pace and, in short order, finally reached his quarry. Gabriel did not gloat, though; he quickly picked up the boy and brought him into the shade.

Gabriel then took a sip from his water bottle and dumped the rest of it over Damifrec's head. The water’s evaporation would help cool him down. Then he reached into a bag he had been carrying and removed the takeaway meal Damifrec had abandoned.

 “Eat,” Gabriel told him.

Damifrec said nothing, but not because of obstinance. He was too exhausted to speak, let alone feed himself. Gabriel realised this quickly, removed the drink, and put the straw to Damifrec’s lips.

There was no fighting this time, no attempt to maintain dignity. Dignity was a luxury for those with the energy to maintain it. Damifrec allowed Gabriel to feed him, desperate for food; for the first time in his life, Damifrec truly understood what hunger was.

In between bites, Gabriel took out his P.D.A. and rang Amalenue, placing the call on speaker. “I got him. He’s not going anywhere. He’s utterly spent.”

“Where are you?”  Amalenue asked.

“In the wilderness, not sure where, about a mile or two from the city, I can still see it, but I don’t know where the nearest road is. I’ll send the coordinates, and you can have someone pick us up. Preferably in a 4x4,” Gabriel explained, popping another nugget in Damifrec’s mouth.

“Did you persistent hunt the boy?” Amalenue asked, recalling a documentary she had watched several years ago.

“Not my intent. I had expected him to give up willingly once he realised I coul...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/EV-187 on 2025-07-02 05:43:24+00:00.

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Mar-gite have basically two modes of behavior. A dormant mode where the mar-gite will primarily move via their tube-feet like a starfish until they find something tasty to feed upon or an ambush position, or ideally both. There the mar-gite will camouflage itself to better blend in as it slowly digests whatever it is attached to. Despite being blind in the standard 350-800 nanometer extended visible spectrum, the mar-gite are still able to use shade, texture and simply covering themselves in the surface materials to provide themselves with excellent camouflage most of the time.

In the dormant mode the mar-gite just focuses on digesting and reproducing asexually in an energy efficient way.

In their active or hunting mode mar-gite far prefer to use their more energy-expensive gravimetric abilities to rapidly fly at anything they deem a threat. People, animals, military machines, overly obnoxious advertisements. This makes the mar-gite effectively a biological self-seeking missile. In their active mode, the mar-gite are also able to reproduce far more rapidly, relying on energy inefficient means to produce more and more.

Either way the mar-gite become an infestation that has to be dealt with. An undiscovered mar-gite can slowly grow into an expanding colony under an unsuspecting population’s nose until finally riled while any actively hunting mar-gite will seek to reproduce faster than the defenders can kill them.

Excerpt: Training primer on mar-gite recovered by Confederate Military Intelligence digital archaeologists. Dated approximately 80 years pre-TXE

“MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!”

 Diana didn’t have to be told twice as she ran down the hallway as it slowly curved upwards. She was running in vacuum and following the warborg ahead of her as it ducked through the blast doors between sections. Every single one of them from here to the hull had been opened to speed their way, there was no airlock to slow the marines down. The Bronze Cog was so big that replacement atmosphere was cheap. They had simply told everyone to hold on and opened the hallway to space.

Around the next corner brought the marines close enough that Az’aht’s company could see the flashes from the guns firing on the hull.

“Rex, take point!”

“Yes, Lieutenant!”

The massive shepherd dropped his gun which automatically secured itself to his back as he dropped to all fours. It was one of the many tricks humanity had programmed into the later generation of feline and canine uplifts before the friend plague: they were just as comfortable on both four and two legs.

The warborg ahead of them yelped as Rex nimbly squeezed past her despite the size.

“Hey, you’re supposed to follow me!”

“Sorry, E-Captain! You’re only an advisor!” Captain Az’aht called out.

“And you’re all only in shade armor!”

“We have orders to go out there, which means we’ll be on that hull in nothing but a mask and skivvies if we have to!” Az’aht shouted.

Diana snickered as she took a moment to check her hud. With her implants the data from her suit, weapons, the ship, and the mildly erotic (only mildly, she was on duty after all) gotchya idle game she’d been playing to keep herself sane. Combat was approaching so she silenced everything besides her suit and immediate proximity alerts, and growled silently as the display for her oxygen meter that just reported an error.

She knew it was good, she had been testing them yesterday and knew all the new nanoforge tanks that the Cog provided weren’t just good but good, terrifyingly good! The primary system was a trick as old as time: using a specially tailored biological converter, in this case an algae mat, to purify and balance the suit’s atmosphere at an amplified rate when excited by a laser that force-fed the biological component the exact spectrum it was most efficient at absorbing. The rebreather tank the Cog had provided were over twice as effective and less than twice the volume: Instead of two hours, Diana’s test had lasted five hours before her suit had started to notice an increase of carbon dioxide, and probably would have kept her alive another hour or two in a truly desperate situation.

And that wasn’t even counting the backup system: the Eternal Captains had all that spare volume to fill to make the tank actually fit, so they put a nanoforge powered oxygenator that had several kilos of density collapsed quicklime that it could rip oxygen atoms off of and dump excess carbon dioxide into to balance the suit’s atmosphere for hours. It made the tanks heavier, but the power assist barely noticed.

It was a disgusting display of technological might, and Diana was immediately in love. The armorers still hadn’t figured out how to make the suits actually interface with the new tanks though so Diana just grumbled and deleted the readout and replaced it with the one directly from the tank itself since the direct interface worked just fine.

“Coming through!” She called out as she dropped to all fours and followed Rex past the warborg. She knew it was Alex partly because the head and hands had been done up in dobie black and brown markings, and partly from the voice. Khan was bringing up the rear making sure the doors closed properly so that each section could be refilled with atmosphere once the marines were past.

Suddenly the hallway leveled out and Diana could see the airlock open to space. She could see a nearby turret leaving streams of tracers in the sky, and she could already see mar-gite landing on the hull. Rex could clearly see them as well as he picked up speed and caught a smaller mar-gite in his suit’s mouth like a murderous frisbee.

Many species would put ferocious grins on their armor’s helmets, using paints and shapes in the armor to put a fearsome visage. Friends, being terrans of their own right, took it a step beyond. Ever since their return from the dead after humanity’s loss, Friend armor always had actual, functional jaws and teeth. In the ancient days they would have been a variation of the Confederate fallback of warsteel toothed chainblades before a lack of warsteel, nanoforges and regression in miniaturization technology made such weaponry unfeasible.

The vibrablade teeth in Rex’s mouth did the job well enough against the soft, juvenile mar-gite as he shook his head violently while his paw-hands gripped two of the arms and simply ripped the murderous beast in two. Rex tossed the dead mar-gite aside as he stood up and pulled out his rifle, pulling it against his shoulder as he started to track and shoot the smaller starfish.

Diana felt her helmet alter itself at the pull of muscle that was entirely in her mind: her tongue was trapped under a flexible cover as she activated her own fangs while she stood up and drew her own weaponry: a vibrablade sword in one hand and her officer’s SMG in the other, letting her start adding her own fire to Rex’s.

A moment later Alex’s warborg body thundered by and Diana had to suppress a flinch as her brain finally registered that she didn’t even come up to the shoulder of Alex’s new body.

“STICK CLOSE TO ONE ANOTHER AND COVER EACH OTHER!” Alex’s voice boomed over the com even as the warborg’s heavy magacc blew holes through the slowly falling mar-gite. “DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE SHIP, THE NPCS CAN HANDLE IT! GET YOUR ASS TO THE DROP POD BAY!”

Diana wondered if it was just her imagination or if the suit made Alex’s voice deeper. A moment later she fired a long burst at a too-close mar-gite: she still had salt and iron shade rounds in her magazine but her smart-link put the burst almost entirely into the starfish’s weak mouth where they bounced off the inside of the mar-gite’s strong, rubbery flesh and pulped its organs.

The question about Alex’s voice was forgotten as simply not important at this moment, much like the rushed explanation about having to run across the outer hull to get to the drop pods. She understood why they had to get the pods: the mar-gite had slipped out of control and were going to reach one of the colonies. The explanation of why they had to take this route had gone over her head and Diana had just accepted “Ship busy, can’t run L-gates or rail transit.”

In the meantime she quickly changed out her weapon’s amblock for a proper battlesteel one and hoped no one noticed as the company assembled. As soon as they were halfway organized the company started to move out together, providing covering fire for each other as they ran. The telkan ran on two legs, the goodbois alternated between two and four as needed, and the two warborgs just ran and ran and ran circles around the company.

“Fuck, I thought keeping up with a dogboi unit pushed me to the limit…” Captain Az’aht messaged on a private channel. “These two just do not stop.”

“That’s the thing, sir. You have to realize that these two are the closest thing to my ancestors' creators that anyone’s seen in thousands of years as far as I know. They were the species that would have driven all of the goodbois and purrbois to extinction even before they finished figuring out fire. Only one thing really saved us, sir.”

“And what was that?”

“They were lonely and wanted to hug us and pet us and give us silly little hats and vests to wear.”

Az’aht chuckled while Diana watched Khan ...

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I gave Fialux a wide berth for the rest of that day into the next. Things got a little awkward after she realized she’d been crying on me for the better part of an hour.

They got even more awkward when she politely asked for some space, but I gave her that space. I figured she needed it.

I was pretty sure from the medical readouts that she was still having one hell of a cry in her room. I’d moved her back to the rustic cabin buried deep under Starlight City suburbia. Not that she knew she was buried deep under Starlight City.

It tore at my heart that I couldn’t go in there and do anything to help her, but I was going to give her the distance she needed. Even if I wasn’t sure whether or not distance was something she really needed. She’d been pretty insistent about pushing me away, and I’d respect that.

Even if giving her that distance really sucked. I was supposed to be her girlfriend. I still felt like her girlfriend. I’d been her girlfriend that morning, and nothing about my feelings had changed. Even if she couldn’t remember a damn thing.

I could still remember every amazing moment we’d had together, and it tore at my heart knowing she couldn’t remember any of it.

I sighed. I looked down at the cup of tea I’d brewed for myself in the lab breakfast nook. I was going to have to talk to her again, eventually, but it broke my heart every time I looked at her and I saw attraction there, but not the half cocked grin she gave me that said I was hers.

I took in a deep breath. Let out another sigh. I’d been able to stave off some of the loneliness of working in the lab all by my lonesome when I had Fialux around. I could always look forward to seeing her. Knowing she’d be there waiting for me made any project I was working on go by faster.

Maybe it was a little unhealthy that I was getting all my social interaction from her, but it worked so why worry?

I was even more unhealthy about socializing before Fialux came along. Back when I’d been getting all of my social interaction from a megalomaniacal psychotic supercomputer who’d done his very best to kill me and take over the world.

“Is something wrong?”

I looked up in surprise. Nobody was supposed to be able to make it this deep into my lab. If I heard someone then…

This time the sigh I let out was one of relief. Selena stood there looking absolutely beautiful. She wore some pajama shorts and a tank top she’d brought over to the lab when it became apparent it would be easier for us to spend time here than at her apartment off campus.

To say I had a hell of a lot more space than your average off campus housing would be an understatement.

I hadn’t recognized her because her voice was quiet. Reserved. Unsure.

Not at all the proud confident voice I was used to. This whole loss of her powers thing must’ve really taken it out of her.

I looked her up and down. That outfit was not the kind of distraction I needed right now when I didn’t have her crying to distract me from the sexy. I took a deep breath and reminded myself this wasn’t my Selena, for all that she looked like my Selena.

“Where did you find those?” I asked.

She hit me with a funny look. “You know I almost didn’t believe you? Like, I thought that whole thing yesterday could’ve been part of some scheme you were running to try and trick me. I mean I guess the reason isn’t all that difficult to figure out. There are a lot of reasons why you’d want to trick me.”

I didn’t say anything. That did sound like the kind of thing I’d do. Except I’d never deliberately delete someone’s memories as part of a scheme. Take over a college class? Sure. Delete memories? No way.

No, I only did that accidentally when I was trying to save their life. Great fucking job I did on that.

“But then I asked your computer for something to wear and it told me it had all the laundry you’d done for me last week,” she said. “You do laundry?”

“Well it’s not exactly fair to say I do laundry,” I said. “Mostly I put it into the automated laundry machine and the computer takes care of everything for me. It even separates reds from everything else and sets aside stuff that’s lay flat to dry! Do you have any idea how difficult it was to figure that out? People think designing antigrav is difficult, but that’s my real crowning achievement.”

I was rambling. The situation called for rambling. I was nervous about everything happening here. I was nervous she’d decide she didn’t want to be around me anymore.

I worried what would happen if she went out into the world without her powers and without me there to protect her.

Her eyes went wide. It was a look I well recognized, because she’d looked just as impressed the first time I explained the laundry system to her.

I held up a hand. “I know. You’re going to ask me if I really programmed a computer to do all that and then you’ll ask me to take you on a tour of the laundry facility. Once I show you you’re going to say it seems like a bit much for one person to avoid doing laundry when I could throw stuff into the washer myself.”

Her mouth closed. She cocked an eyebrow. Clearly I’d just said what she was going to say word for word, because I’d already lived it once.

“I’m guessing that’s a conversation you’ve had before?” she asked.

“You’re guessing correct,” I said.

“Okay. So if I’m over here often enough that you’re doing my laundry, prove it.”

Now it was my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Prove it?”

“Yeah. You’ve got this big lab and I see a bunch of cameras everywhere. Prove that I hang out here.”

I sighed. “Those cameras run on a twenty-four hour cycle. The only thing you’re going to see is the past day. And there are a lot of places that don’t have surveillance cameras, or they don’t run all the time. I mostly keep the cameras in areas where I’m most likely to deal with an incursion.”

What I didn’t say was I’d never had to deal with an incursion. Mostly because my first layer of security, a far more deadly layer of booby traps and disintegrators, was so good the security cameras never got a chance to go into action.

“So let me get this straight. You allowed me into your lab with my powers and you weren’t monitoring me constantly?”

“Nope. I firmly believe in your right to privacy. Like I’m more of a stickler about that shit than the US government is these days. I didn’t track you unless you happened to show up on one of the security cameras in one of the sensitive areas I track. And you never wanted to go there. Your eyes always glazed over when I started talking about work.”

“Damn,” she said. “I was hoping for something concrete…”

I groaned. On the one hand I suppose it was expecting too much to hope she’d suddenly decide she was head over heels in love with me. Again. That it didn’t matter that she’d lost her memory. 

After all, there was a lot that had happened between me being the professor at the front of the class talking her into revealing herself and deciding we were going to try and make the whole villain and superhero relationship thing work.

There’d been a couple of betrayals. A couple of big fights with enemies old and new. A couple of twists and turns that weren’t going to happen all over again because CORVAC’s circuits were all fried and Rex Roth was dust in the wind.

Literally.

Plus I totally thought I’d been doing a good thing by not recording her constantly, even if the temptation had been there. I’d been holding to personal morals, but now it looked like that decision was going to bite me in the ass.

It seemed like so many of my decisions had been coming back and biting me in the ass lately. I didn’t particularly care for that feeling.

My face lit up. Maybe there was something to her request.

Recordings. All that stuff that happened between me being the naughty professor and us falling for each other. I might not have recordings of us in the lab, some of those would be pretty blush inducing thank you very much, but…

“That’s it! Recordings of us!”

I walked over to grab a remote. I hated that I had to turn the television on the old-fashioned way with a remote. As though this was the twentieth century, but again, I was sort of running at a reduced capacity right now while I tried to decide whether or not I wanted to give my new computer assistant more autonomy.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

I grabbed the remote and walked over to her. Leaned in and gave her a big smack on the lips. 

Her eyes went wide, but at the same time she didn’t exactly seem to hate kissing me.

Not that she’d exactly hated kissing me before. A blush came to her cheeks, and that was always so cute. That was something she’d done even when we were together.

“Um…”

I turned on the TV. Went to my recordings. I had to press like five different button combinations to get to my recordings, stupid streaming services that always buried what I actually wanted to watch under layers of their original programming bullshit nobody wanted to watch, but eventually I pulled up the recording I was looking for.

I might not have CORVAC constantly recording everything I ever did in the city like in the old days, but SCNN did have a special channel de...

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First / Previous / Royal Road

XXX

Pale was taken aback by the king's even tone. She stared at him in surprise, initially unsure of how to respond, until she finally cleared her throat.

"...Apologies, Sir," she stated. "You have me at a loss. I know you by your title, but not your name."

The king blinked, then nodded. "Indeed. I am King Harald. And I am told your name is Pale."

"It is."

"Hm… bit of an odd name, is it not?"

"You'll get no arguments from me, Sir. But obviously, I had no say in the matter."

"Of course." His brow furrowed. "You continue to call me Sir. Is there a reason for that?"

"Protocol where I'm from," Pale replied. "We refer to authority figures as either Sir or Ma'am."

"A custom of yours, then. Very well. I take no offense, mind you. Simply curious, is all."

Slowly, Pale nodded. "What did you want to ask me, specifically?"

"A great deal of things, actually," King Harald said to her. "More than we even have time to discuss, unfortunately. But, to begin with… I understand that you enlisted from the Luminarium not long after the attack on it. But even before that, you were helping fend off the Otrudians. Seems you have a real affinity for fighting."

Pale said nothing in response, instead letting him continue, which he did after a second's pause.

"And then, as it was told to me, you showed up at your assigned outpost, whereupon you excelled in battle against the goblins, taking control of a bad situation and managed to press the assault until victory was achieved. But you weren't done yet, were you? Because when the counterattack came a bit later, you took charge of that situation, too – even saved Allie's life in the process. And that's before we even get into your various exploits on the way here – putting together an ambush, setting up and holding a makeshift defensive position against a numerically superior force, mustering your allies when many were no doubt preparing to desert…"

"Respectfully, Sir, is there a question here?" Pale couldn't help but ask. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Allie wince, but King Harald didn't seem to care in the slightest.

Rather, he seemed downright intrigued.

"I'm simply wondering how someone so young can possess as many great talents as you do," he stated. "I mean, you have proven yourself to be a brilliant tactician and leader. You have a rare Affinity for magic. I'm told you were at the very top of your class when you were still in school. You've even designed your own prototype weapons, which you have been using to great effect. And yet, you stand before me, a young woman barely over the age of twenty… surely you can understand my curiosity?"

"I can," Pale agreed. "And truthfully, I have no explanation for you, Sir. I am… gifted, I suppose."

King Harald stared at her for a second before nodding. "So it would seem," he said. "Of course, you have to understand this puts me in an unusual predicament."

"In what way, Sir?"

"To put it simply, I have no idea what to do with you," he said bluntly. "My men have been asking around, speaking to the survivors of your unit and trying to get a feel for who you are. Every soldier has a role to play in this army, you see, but… well… some have a bigger role than others. Do I make you a commanding officer and lead people? Do I put you on the front lines and have you continue to fight? Do I pull you off the battlefield entirely and have you make more of these weapons, or use your Affinity to make other useful items for the war effort? Or perhaps I do none of that and instead have you put together battle plans for my other officers?" He shook his head. "It is rare to encounter one so talented. Even more for them to survive for me to speak with them. I know of but one other person who can claim something similar, and they are anything but normal."

That got Pale's attention. She hadn't noticed anyone who'd stood out to her while walking around the castle and its grounds, at least not when compared to the castle guards and Mage Knights.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it before King Harald brought a hand up to rub at his chin in thought.

"...Tell me something," he said. "And be honest."

"Of course, Sir," she said.

"Do you believe you were chosen by the Gods above somehow?"

Pale blinked in surprise, but after a moment, shook her head. "No. I am of… mundane origin."

"Mundane origin," King Harald echoed. "And yet, there is nothing at all that is mundane about you. Curious."

"Like I said, I have no explanation," Pale said to him. "I am what I am. Nothing more, and nothing less."

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," he offered. After a moment, he peered past her, looking at her friends, still knelt on the floor. "Would they agree with your statement, I wonder?"

"I don't know, Sir. That's for them to decide."

King Harald's brow furrowed. "When Allie initially approached me to speak about you, she assured me that you would unflinchingly insist on at least this core group of people being here. Why is that?"

"Because I couldn't bring the whole unit with me," Pale bluntly told him. "Some of them are still in the hospital, and even if they weren't, Allie assured me it wouldn't be proper."

That seemed to take him by surprise. King Harald stared at her, one eyebrow raised. "Fascinating," he said. "Allie told me you would want to share in the glory of victory with the rest of your unit. Admittedly, my first thought was that you were posturing more than anything."

"I'm not," Pale insisted. "They deserve as much praise and recognition as I do. And not just the survivors, either – every person who fought alongside us, including those who died as a result of it, deserves to have a piece of whatever so-called glory you may want to give me. Personally, I don't care for it. The knowledge that I'm still here along with at least some of my unit, even when up against odds that seemed unwinnable on paper, is enough for me."

Again, King Harald blinked. "Humble, too, it would seem. Of course, that does not help the predicament I'm in, I hope you realize that."

Pale hesitated for a second. "...If I may make a suggestion," she said. "You yourself have just stated that you don't know what to do with me. I don't mean to speak out of turn or otherwise diminish your authority, but… why not let me choose for myself?'

Again, Allie let out a small groan. Pale ignored her, however, instead staying focused on King Harald. His eyes suddenly narrowed.

"What you ask of me is… unprecedented, to say the least," he told her. "There aren't many people with the mental fortitude to walk into my throne room and attempt to, for lack of a better term, usurp my authority."

"I have no intentions of usurping you in any way," Pale assured him. "I'm simply presenting an alternative. You are struggling with what to do with me, because in your own words, there are multiple things I could do to assist with the war effort. Rather than agonize over it, I am offering you the opportunity to pass the burden on to someone else entirely."

"Then you would understand that it isn't that simple," King Harald said abruptly. "I have to do what is best for the entire army. I have to weigh your desires against the lives of my soldiers. Your weapons, for example – Allie assures me that they cannot be recreated, even by you. And yet… I have heard whispers from some of the other former Luminarium students that you indeed have more of them – that you call them down from the sky in some kind of great metal container."

Pale's eyes suddenly narrowed dangerously, her hand instinctively falling to her right hip, where her handgun would normally have been holstered. However, it fell upon nothing but empty air, and she grit her teeth. King Harald, meanwhile, was quick to continue.

"I know you are keeping secrets from me," he assured her. "And not just from me, but from everybody. Nothing about you is truly normal or mundane. I have no explanation for any of it, but I know that much to be true. And yet, you assure me you are not an instrument of the Gods, as I once thought. So, you must understand my apprehension."

"I have no intentions of harming you or anyone else in this kingdom," Pale assured him. "All I want is to make sure my friends and I are safe. I want to finish this war, and then-"

"And then what?" King Harald asked. "How can I be assured that you won't come for me, with all your skills and all your exotic and powerful weapons?"

Suddenly, the gold-armored knights around the room shifted, drawing a bit closer to her. Pale tensed, again gritting her teeth.

"...I can offer you no assurances but my word," Pale stated. "Quite frankly, Sir, if I wanted you dead even slightly, you would be right now. But I have no quarrel with you or anyone else in this kingdom, and in fact, I am happy to continue fighting your war for you. I have no desire to rise through the ranks, or even to ever rule in your place. But you have to understand… I can't just leave my friends. I don't mean to take your authority from you. Rather, what I mean is… I need a favor, just this once."

"A favor?" King Harald echoed. "You would ask me for a favor?"

"Yes, I would."

He...

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"Permission to launch the drone from hangar two?" Markus was holding a hand over the button, ready to dispatch the only thing that could save them if the shadow came back. And here he was, fighting with the stubborn old fool again.

"Permission denied Lieutenant! Also, you can stop shaking, we should be ok for now." The Captain said, apparently having regained his composure, currently trying to wipe his cap clean after it fell down during the last attack. Having taken up his poker face, and the neutral voice as if he was not the one screaming commands like captain Ahab to harpoon the white whale a minute ago.

"With all due respect, Sir! What do you base this on?" The weapons officer had to hold himself back, looking at the instruments. Half the launchers were down, the other half were mostly empty. PD guns largely intact, but useless without targeting. The other departments not in any better shape, communications still down, main engine useless. They were mostly immobile and de-facto defenseless against anything with half-decent armament.

"No use in worrying about what you cannot fix, and it is not like the drone can do much against another missile attack, not that i would expect one."

"And why is that?" He took a step back as captain Garland looked him straight in the eyes and moved up to him.

"Good God man, you are smarter than this! Think Mark! Think! They specifically targeted our thrusters just now, so they could get away. Remember the first missile strike they did, and then compare it to the second. Why would they not use those scattershot ones or whatever they were, together with the big ones as a follow-up?"

He hated to admit it, it made sense, and it made him think. "Because the big ones were less nimble. Little use when fired from that distance when we started."

"Good, why would they not try to combine them in the second attack?"

"Because the big ones had to be all they had left?"

"Exactly! Consider what they are, a stealth ship where bulk comes at a premium between heat sinks or whatever they are using. They could only carry that much, same reason we cannot fit hyperdrives on the drones. By now they must have spent most if not all of their munitions. Anyhow, the second reason i don't want you to waste the last drone on a futile defense mission, is because i need it to destroy them!"

"Destroy them?" The weapons officer started laughing. Okay, the old man lost it. He might have acted like he is back to normal, but the insanity just went deeper it seemed. "We cannot even find them! Not with the state the Troyan is in. I am not even sure we could detect normal incoming ships right now! Why the hurry anyhow if they are really running? They might have given us a trashing, but we knocked out their hyperdrive for good before that. They will not even be able to leave this general area, let alone this star system. Lets focus on fixing our communications, call in reinforcements and have the rest of the task force hunt them down and finish them!"

"Sounds good, let's call that plan B." Garland smiled. He actually smiled, it was terrifying in a way. "But i see no reason for not doing a plan A as well while we wait for repairs."

-x-

-x-

The Prowler continued its relatively slow but steady path away from the engagement area. Commander Kaba was yet to start rotation to let some of the crew rest, and there was some confusion about why they have not gone to sublight already.

"Engineering might need a bit more as expected, Correl was quick to assign blame to our strafing run shaking up things, but i had the distinct impression there is a bigger issue."

There was some frustrated murmuring. Hikar spoke up.

"A degraded drive field is no joke, even at the best case scenario it will slow us down and make our signature easier to detect once we engage sublight."

"And in worst case scenario?"

"Boom!" Everyone looked at the Nav officer. Hikar quickly jumped in before it would all devolve into something more primal. "I would not put it as crudely, but yes."

"So we are going to remain on low power acceleration for now. Put more distance between us and them." Kaba pointed at the tactical display, where the alliance Q-ship was barely on the edge of the screen anymore. "The one positive is, with us engaging further away, they will almost certainly not detect us departing." She looked at the tired visages of her crew. "And it will be hilarious, my one regret is not being able to see their expressions when they spent months in futile search of this area."

That seemed to get the desired reaction of amused snorts and rumbles, so did announcing the rotations. Of course it was the weapons officer who would object. "Are you sure? I know weapons are unlikely to be needed, but someone else should be here with you. Or i could take over yours."

Kaba squinted at him, this could be taken all the wrong ways. But she was not going to, not today at least.

"Go to sleep Ralga. You earned it, we all did. By the time you are up we will be halfways back home."

-x-

-x-

"I don't see how this helps, we been over this. The heat signatures are from their missiles, the optics were gone at this point, so we are not seeing their ship on this one at all." Most of the Troyans senior officers were hunched over the table, with datapads and thin plastic sheets, even some actual paper, whoever the maniac was who used that to print out sensor readings.

"What about their engine fumes? Our missiles certainly could go after them before they dropped those decoys. Do we have any equipment that can track gas trails or anything?"

"They were going after the heat, not the gas. We are not a science vessel, even if we had anything like that, by now there is no need for them to constantly run their thrusters. We don't know which direction to fire at, and they could just turn them off."

It has only been minutes, but it felt like it's been ages. Running in circles does that to you, Markus thought to himself. He really did not want to be the contrarian this time, the captain might not have shown it now, but his patience was running out before this meeting even started. Miss Blair suggested this huddle, to 'Listen to various perspectives' after she could not offer anything new either, but all it ended up being is the staff passing along the ball among themselves.

"I am sorry, other then sending out the drones on a random search pattern, running their sensors on full deep scan in the hope of them bumping into some sign of them, i don't see what else we could try. That at least has some minuscule chance of success."

"Not good enough Lieutenant. I expect more from us." The captain growled, leaning in over the table.

Miss Blair was staring at the footage of the infra-red detector from their last encounter. "Actually, the chance might not be that low, if we can set them to coordinate better."

"What do you mean?" Markus and Captain Garland both spoke at the same time.

"When they were running from our missiles, we could briefly detect their heat signature. It was not just what came out of their engines, it was the engines and the surrounding hull itself. We lost them afterwards, but objects in space do not cool down like that. If anything, heat is hard to get rid of without a medium. I don't care how good their heat sinks are, no way they could cool their hull or armor or whatever that quickly. Which means we can only not see them because another part of their ship which they do keep cold all the time obscures the rest, and its not their entire hull!"

"Meaning?"

"Ha!" The Captain did not wait for an explanation. "They have to be careful about which side of their ship faces us! Multiple observers could leave them no cold shadow to hide behind, and they are limited in how they can move away or towards us! Mark! Program the drones to spread out and look for heat signatures."

"Sir, yes sir!" This was the brilliant man he signed up with years ago. "Good to have you back sir. Er..." Garland was giving him a weird look, but he had no time to explain that little remark. "Sir, communications is still out, i can have our drone in the bay programmed and relay its commands to the others, but we will have no control over them once they are out!

"I have full confidence in you Markus." The weapons officer rolled his eyes as he was turning away, not this again.

Part 9 / Part 1

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Ke Yin has a problem. Well, several problems.

First, he's actually Cain from Earth.

Second, he's stuck in a cultivation world where people don't just split mountains with a sword strike, they build entire universes inside their souls (and no, it's not a meditation metaphor).

Third, he's got a system with a snarky spiritual assistant that lets him possess the recently deceased across dimensions.

And finally, the elders at the Azure Peak Sect are asking why his soul realm contains both demonic cultivation and holy arts? Must be a natural talent.

Expectations:

• MC's main cultivation method will be plant based and related to World Trees

• Weak to Strong MC

• MC will eventually create his own lifeforms within his soul as well as beings that can cultivate

• Main world is the first world (Azure Peak Sect)

• MC will revisit worlds (extensive world building of multiple realms)

• Time loop elements

• No harem

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Chapter 198: Aftermath

I blinked awake to sunlight streaming through the thin window of my childhood bedroom. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the familiar wooden beams above me. The events of yesterday felt like some strange fever dream—the ancient shrine, Ke Jun's blood domain, that desperate final battle where I'd drawn on stellar energy.

But the lingering soreness in my meridians confirmed it had all been real.

Somehow, I'd survived channeling power that should have killed me. Not only survived but... improved? I could feel the difference in my body—stronger, more refined, with physical essence reserves that were beyond my cultivation stage.

"Good morning, Master," Azure's voice echoed in my mind. "Your spiritual pathways have stabilized, though I recommend a full meridian examination when convenient."

I groaned, stretching my arms above my head.

"Let me guess," I said. "You've been monitoring my vital signs the entire time."

"Naturally. Your body underwent significant changes during the battle. The integration of Ke Jun's blood essence appears to have had some... interesting effects."

I immediately sat up, remembering the strange statue I'd glimpsed in my inner world. "Right. I should check—"

A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts. "Yin? Are you awake?" Mother's voice called softly from beyond the door. "Breakfast is nearly ready."

"I'll be right down!" I called back, reluctantly pushing aside my curiosity about the changes in my inner world. It would have to wait.

I quickly tidied myself, noting with some surprise that someone—likely Mother—had washed my clothes. My sect robes now hung by the window, the fabric still carrying a hint of dampness despite being mostly dry. She must have stayed up late to clean them.

As I dressed, I caught my reflection in a small bronze mirror on the wall.

The changes were subtle but unmistakable. My jawline had sharpened, becoming more defined. My cheekbones seemed higher, giving my face a more aristocratic cast. Even my eyes had changed slightly—still the same dark brown, but somehow deeper, with tiny flecks of crimson that hadn't been there before.

I looked like... well, like a young cultivator from a powerful clan rather than a village tailor's son. The irony wasn't lost on me—now I actually matched the backstory I was supposed to have.

Last night, my parents had been a little concerned about the changes when they saw me but they calmed down after I attributed it to my recent breakthrough.

With one final glance at my reflection, I headed down.

***

When I stepped into the main room, the scent of congee, pickled vegetables, and fried dough sticks filled the air. Father sat at the table, carefully mending what appeared to be a festival banner, while Mother bustled between the cooking area and the table.

"There he is," Father smiled warmly. "Our hero returns to the land of the living."

"Just doing what anyone else would do,” I replied, sliding into the seat.

"Hong," Mother scolded gently, though her own smile belied any real displeasure. "Don't tease him. Sit, Yin. You must be hungry after... well, after everything."

After defeating Ke Jun, we headed to the mountains to retrieve the villagers. The trek through the mountain paths had been slow, with wounded teammates, but the relief on the villagers' faces when we arrived had made it worthwhile.

The journey back to the village had been a strange mixture of celebration and solemn procession. The villagers had been overjoyed to return home safely, but the mood among our team remained subdued. We'd completed our mission, yes, but at a cost that felt unnecessarily high.

We had a brief team meeting at the village elder's house in which Liu Chang had announced we would stay in the village for a few nights. "Everyone needs time to recuperate," he'd said. "We're in no condition to travel immediately."

Yan Li had agreed, noting that rushing back while injured would only risk further complications.

I was secretly relieved, not because my body needed recovery time, but because it meant a few more days with my family.

The entire team had been given accommodations throughout the village, with the more seriously injured members staying at the village healer's home for monitoring.

"How are you feeling?" Mother asked, placing a steaming bowl of congee before me, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"I'm fine," I assured her, accepting the bowl with a grateful nod. "Just tired. Using... certain techniques can be draining."

My ancestor’s blood essence did a great job at healing my body, the tiredness I was referring to was more of a mental fatigue.

Father raised an eyebrow. "Must have been some technique. Liu Chang tells me you were instrumental in defeating the... creature... in the shrine."

I nearly choked on my congee.

Last night, I'd stayed up late with my parents, recounting a carefully edited version of what happened at the shrine. I'd strategically omitted the part where I channeled energy far beyond my cultivation level and nearly burned out my meridians.

Instead, I'd focused on the revelation that the Ke family apparently descended from a powerful ancient cultivator. Father had stroked his chin thoughtfully at that, admitting there had been family legends passed down through generations—whispers of a great ancestor who had achieved immortality—but he'd always assumed they were just stories to make children dream big.

"You spoke with Liu Chang?" I asked, setting my spoon down carefully.

"He came by early this morning," Mother answered, refilling my bowl without being asked. "Very polite young man. Wanted to make sure you were recovering well."

"He also mentioned something about a star?" Father raised an eyebrow. "Said it appeared above your head during the battle."

I sighed internally. Of course Liu Chang would mention that particular detail—it wasn't exactly something you saw every day, even in a cultivation world.

"It was just something I've been working on," I said vaguely. "Not quite perfected yet."

"Well, it certainly seemed to do the job," Father said, his fingers working deftly as he repaired a tear in the festival banner. "The village is safe, thanks to you and your friends."

"The whole village is planning a celebration tonight," Mother cut in, adding pickled vegetables to my bowl. "To thank all of you immortal cultivators for your protection."

"We're hardly immortals, Mother," I corrected gently. "Just cultivators. Qi Condensation realm is barely the first step on the path."

"To us, you might as well be immortals," Father said, setting aside his mending. "Supernatural movement, throwing lightning and fire... what else would we call you?"

I couldn't argue with that perspective. To ordinary villagers, even the most basic cultivation techniques must seem miraculous. I remembered feeling the same way when I first read about such abilities in novels from my previous life.

As we ate, I considered the question that had been forming in my mind since the battle with Ke Jun. This village—my ancestral home—was no longer safe. Not because of any remaining threat from Ke Jun himself, but because word would spread about what happened here. Curious cultivators, treasure hunters, or worse might come investigating.

"Have you ever thought about moving?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Perhaps to a village closer to Azure Peak?"

Mother nearly dropped her spoon. "Moving? But we've lived here for generations. Your father's shop has a reputation here. Why would we leave?"

"The Ke family has been in Floating Reed Village since before the Eastern Emperor's grandfather was born," Father added, his brow furrowed. "Our roots run deep here."

I set down my spoon, choosing my words carefully. "I know, and I understand the importance of heritage. But after what happened... this place might attract unwanted attention."

"You mean other... things like that ancestor?" Mother asked, her face paling slightly.

"Not exactly like him, no. But word spreads. A powerful relic, an ancient technique, even just rumors of something unusual—they all attract attention. Some of it dangerous."

Father frowned. "But surely after defeating that creature, the village would be considered safe?"

"That's not how cultivators think," I explained gently. "They'll wonder what made this place special ...

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John awkwardly laid the dragon woman on the mattress she had been sleeping on, stepping back as she immediately curled up like a sleeping cat the second she touched fabric. It was weird, awkward, and he wished he were doing anything else, but it had to be done.

"How long is she going to be like that, you think?" He asked, turning to Yuki as he glanced around. It felt a bit… strange to be in what may as well be the bedroom of another while they were passed out, even if it was just a warehouse he owned. It didn't feel much like a living space, even accounting for the fact that Rin didn't bring much with her.

"Perhaps a few hours at most," Yuki shrugged, unconcerned. "I expected her constitution to be a bit greater, but, in retrospect, her being unused to high-quality reagents was a forgone conclusion." There was… some worry in how the corners of her muzzle dipped into a frown, but he couldn't place why, if it was not about Rin.

Quite the thing to misguess, in any case. John wasn't sure if she reminded him more of someone drunk enough to show up on some trashy "real policing" show or a four-year-old hitting a sugar crash the way most people hit brick walls.

Still, the process answered some questions about Rin and Unbound as a whole. His entire array of devices couldn't capture everything, but he gathered enough to understand the basis of much of what the pair were doing, even if the exact methods eluded him.

"Say, speaking of that, would you mind clarifying some things for me?" he inquired. "I have some theories and some questions after what I saw."

"Of course!" Yuki responded. "Tell me, what does our local genius think happened?"

There was something distinctly uncomfortable with being called a genius, but he pressed on. "You isolated the elements you didn't want to interact with, then you somehow broke down the elements you wanted to interact with. It reminded me of…" How would he say chemistry to someone without the context? If there was a word for it, he didn't know it. He could just say alchemy, but for all he knew, that may have greater implications. "The process of extracting iron from ore, but… Ugh."

Frustration crossed his face as he searched for examples. "It's like fire. With the right prodding, it transforms one thing into new matter composed of the original parts. You manually stirred it up, then added the right things, and used the energy released to have the process drive itself. The pot kept unwanted things out, so nothing interfered." A simplification. It seemed to act like a semi-solid barrier, only letting magical energy above a certain level through, and only when it was concentrated into specific points.

Sometimes, he wished that Yuki could speak English. Other times, he didn't know how he'd feel, seeing another English speaker after all this time. Bah. He had a creeping suspicion that she was somehow boosting the rate at which he was learning the language, anyhow. One day, he'd probably be able to find out a way to communicate all these complicated ideas with her that way.

"From there, Rin drank the mixture and somehow integrated it with herself. The energies around her intensified, but it wasn't quite like they got pointedly stronger. It was more like they became… larger? Her energies stretched out further from her before she pulled them back into herself. While it was hard to read what was going on inside her, I could at least tell that some compound mana was harder for her body to process than others, and the easier to process stuff not only burned up faster, but gave her a bigger boost. I assume that was the stuff related to… what she is or how she was Unbound? Things closest to a dragon with power over storms." He finally stopped, taking deep, puffing breaths.

Yuki waited for him to recover as he started coughing, a dry scratchiness hitting him with full force.

When he was finished blinking the stars out of his vision, he saw the kitsune holding out a cup of water to him, which he accepted with a dip of his head, unwilling to try to voice his thanks.

The cooling drink was soothing, softening what felt like jagged edges in his throat.

"You are close," Yuki admitted, "but paint an incomplete picture." She paused for what he was sure was dramatic effect, softly exhaling as she closed her eyes. "To the average person, their body and soul are not in unity. To an Unbound, they are closer together. To a yokai, they are one. I, and every other yokai, do not operate on the same rules as anything born of the mortal plane."

All at once, dozens of different things clicked, and John gasped.

He could feel them, and he could touch them, but yokai material always acted a bit… weird, not entirely obeying natural laws like how the pieces of Nameless in storage seemed to shed shadow. Did they even exist on an atomic level? What if they were just projections of some immaterial soul into the material world?

Yuki could function despite being poisoned, with much of her leg outright missing, walking as if nothing had happened. Even if it didn't kill her, the sheer biomechanics shouldn't have let her stay upright due to being unable to control anything past the damaged section.

Nameless were much larger than spiders could be in an Earth-like atmosphere. John had always suspected magic directly influenced their air intake somehow, but…

Wait. Did that mean the kappa bit off a part of his soul to—

"I know what you're thinking, and this next part is important. What you saw in Rin and what yokai are composed of has many names. Essence. Core Form. Spirit. It's all the same. The Soul, in a formal sense, is the core of the self. The Spirit is the metaphysical weight bound up in it.”

More things clicked. The way Yuki tore the souls out of Nameless, binding their souls into an orb for her to devour… the way they died was unusual. Normally, they never withered away and solidified, but when Yuki tore their souls out, they did. She must have done the metaphysical equivalent of hollowing them out! The only Essence, Spirit, whatever the hell you want to call it, left was probably what was most tied to their physical form.

If he took that statement about Unbound being closer to that at face value, their unusual resilience, even beyond the Aegis, suddenly made sense.

John couldn't do much besides laugh. "You have no idea how many things this clears up. I have many more questions, but first, I need time to think about how to put them. For now, if you excuse me, I should probably go finish that flying—"

Yuki put a hand on his shoulder as he glanced toward the door. He jolted and tensed, eyes darting over to meet hers, he saw… he wasn't quite sure. Sympathy? Worry?

"I would like to talk to you about something, too," Yuki requested.

After a moment of thought, John acquiesced, dipping his head.

"Would you like to talk about those priests from earlier?" she delicately asked.

He reeled, the phantom heat pulsing against his torso like a strobe. "No!" he stated, perhaps a bit too roughly, and a bit too harshly. "No, sorry," he repeated, more quietly in a way that made him feel small. "Maybe another time."

Her gaze searched his, although not harshly, and he couldn't escape the feeling she was looking at him with pity.

After a moment that stretched far too long, she broke eye contact first. "Very well."

Internally, he slumped with relief.

"However, you are doing far, far too much with too few breaks. You need some time to relax."

Pursing his lips and choosing his words carefully, he took a moment to reply. "I don't think so. We have so much to do all the time."

"Don't think I haven't noticed you entirely losing yourself more and more, John." Yuki tutted like a disappointed parent. "You were practically comatose the whole walk back. You bounced back from the first Nameless incident quicker. You're clearly stressed and suppressing it."

Was he? It couldn't be that bad. "These last few days have been rough, sure, but I just have to power through. It's not that bad. I've even been sleeping fine! Sure, the stuff about you, the Nameless, Rin… It worries me, but I can manage it. If I don't deal with things quickly, it could spiral out of control if something else comes up! What if my flight isn't finished by the time we need it, or if—"

John cut himself short as a slightly annoyed glare manifested on Yuki's face, aimed squarely at him. She took a deep breath, and it was gone again, replaced with pure sympathy.

"John, please, you need to rest. Unless we provoke something, no attack is coming," she soothed. "You'll do everyone no good if you stress yourself into a heart attack."

He winced. "How are you so sure about the attack? They didn't need an announcement for the last one."

"The letter said nine days," she stated. "It's doubtful that the letter was written by an uninvolved third party, so why would they tell their puppets to move clear before then if they planned to wipe us out before then?"

That… was a good point. It still didn't excuse passivity, but at most, they'd probably catch some probing attacks before then. Even when they last attacked, it was only when the town's militia accidentally provided an extra bit of leverage, ...

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FIRST

Blurb/Synopsis

Captain Henry Donnager expected a quiet career babysitting a dusty relic in Area 51. But when a test unlocks a portal to a world of knights and magic, he's thrust into command of Alpha Team, an elite unit tasked with exploring this new realm.

They join the local Adventurers Guild, seeking to unravel the secrets of this fantastical realm and the ancient gateway's creators. As their quests reveal the potent forces of magic, they inadvertently entangle in the volatile politics between local rivalling factions.

With American technology and ancient secrets in the balance, Henry's team navigates alliances and hostilities, enlisting local legends and air support in their quest. In a land where dragons loom, they discover that modern warfare's might—Hellfire missiles included—holds its own brand of magic.

Chapter 50: First Time for Everything (2)

Henry led the way up the narrow stairs, hyperaware of Sera’s footsteps behind him. The inn’s second floor was quieter than the first, just the muffled sounds of refugees settling into their rooms and the creak of old wood under their feet. Room assignments had been straightforward enough – doubles for the refugee families, singles for the diplomatic staff, and one left over that Perry had so generously offered to him.

The brass number 15 hung slightly crooked on the door – or whatever squiggle passed for ‘fifteen’ in the local language. Henry worked the key. The lock was decent for a medieval setup – probably wouldn’t stop anyone determined, but better than nothing. The door swung open to reveal exactly what a couple hundred lumens got him in Arnsburg: four walls, one window, and a bed that dominated about sixty percent of the floor space.

No purple LED strips here to set the mood. No AC on full blast to make getting under the covers a necessity. All it had was an oil lamp and a hand-stitched quilt that probably had more personality than most issue bedding. Funny how he’d never brought anyone back to base housing anyway – too many eyes, too much protocol. Always ended up at their place or some off-base apartment that smelled like vanilla candles and had those inspirational quotes on the walls.

“Well then,” Sera said, lowering her pack with care, “it is a marked improvement over the Minotaur’s cave, at least.”

“Lower chance of getting gored, too,” Henry blurted out. He closed his eyes for a moment, then moved to the window, the Ovinne Mountain Range dominating the scenery. The town was basically non-existent in comparison, but he had a quaint view of the main square, with partial coverage from the roof overhang.

“The bed appears adequate,” she observed, tone perfectly neutral in a way that made it anything but.

Henry turned away from the window, facing the real scenery. Oh, he could never get tired of it! The way lamplight caught the edge of her ear, rendering it with a beautifully translucent light velvet. How her eyes – that impossible shade between purple and pink – narrowed slightly when she was thinking. The rosy flush of her cheeks, especially under tension like this. That subtle scent she carried, like vanilla, honey, and something floral he couldn’t place, probably some elven thing that didn’t exist back home.

Jesus, he had it bad.

The whole situation was probably violating about six different sections of the UCMJ. Fraternization, conduct unbecoming, whatever they’d call banging an allied intelligence asset in a fantasy world. Except Sera wasn’t technically under US military authority, was she? And even if she was, half of JSOC was married to analysts or support staff they’d met downrange. Open secret that deployments made their own rules. Hell, one of his old buddies had married a CIA liaison after knowing her for three weeks in Syria.

Besides, if he had to spend another night listening to Ron’s snoring while trying not to think about how Sera’s hair looked in firelight, he’d lose his mind.

They stood there for a moment, the room suddenly feeling very small and very quiet. The bed might as well have had a neon sign. Or those stupid LED strips. Christ, when did he start missing tacky mood lighting?

“We should probably head back down,” Henry said, finally turning his gaze away. “See about that dinner situation.”

“Mm.” She adjusted one of her bracers, a gesture he’d noticed she did when buying time. She fell into step beside him, and when her hand brushed his as he navigated the narrow doorway, the brief contact sent a jolt up his arm. Was this gonna be the new normal?

They headed back downstairs. Behind them, the room and its implications could wait. Right now, it was time to watch his guys suffer through another round of MREs while the locals got real food. Even with swaps, the underlying meal remained… oh so extravagant. Such was the glamorous life of America’s finest.

And to make matters worse, the common room smelled like actual food. The MRE situation couldn’t get more depressing, but at least they’d already accepted this reality. His team had already claimed a corner table and were deep into the ritual of making Menu Day whatever-the-fuck edible.

“Menu Fourteen.” Ron held up the package, sounding like he was announcing a death in the family. “Remember when we bitched about the DFAC running out of prime rib on Thursdays?”

Henry chuckled as the thought crossed his mind. “One of the best parts about being stuck in the desert. Damn, we were spoiled.”

Henry grabbed his own pack – Menu 12, Elbow Macaroni in Tomato Sauce. Twelve hundred calories of scientifically optimized nutrition. Around them, refugees finished their bowls of actual stew – chunks of meat, potatoes, carrots, and local herbs that made the whole room smell like his grandmother's kitchen. The inn clearly knew its business.

It made the MREs look like punishment.

“At least we ain’t eatin’ hardtack,” Ryan offered, watching a refugee kid go back for seconds. “Our stuff’s got spices; can’t complain too much.”

“Smell is psychological,” Dr. Anderson said, methodically working through his crackers. “We’re essentially eating future food by their standards. I would, however, trade half the nutritional density for some of that stew right now.”

“Yeah, tastes like the future sucks,” Ron muttered, but without any real heat. They all knew they were eating better than local soldiers who probably gnawed on leather strips and whatever hardtack was called here.

Sera had taken a seat between him and Dr. Anderson, looking at the spread of packets with interest. “Perhaps we should have harvested more of the Bralnor meat…”

“Woulda, coulda, shoulda,” Henry sighed. 

“Waffle Wednesday,” Ron blurted wistfully. “Fuck, I miss Waffle Wednesday.”

“The food at Eldralore Academy’s refectories…” Ryan groaned, smiling as he reminisced.

Isaac grunted. “Yeah, we gotta stop. Shit’s just making it worse.”

Henry had to agree. “We just gotta suck it up for today. Look on the bright side – when we get to Enstadt, we’ll probably get another one of those diplomatic feasts.”

He was about to start the whole water activation process when he spotted Livia emerging from the kitchen area, carrying two bowls of the inn’s stew. The smell hit before she even reached their table – actual food, hot and savory.

“Sera, dearest.” Livia set one bowl in front of her. “Surely you were not preparing to partake in the torments of these unfortunate gentlemen?”

“I suppose not,” Sera replied, accepting the bowl. “Thank you, Livia.”

Livia settled into an empty chair with her own bowl, studying the MREs with genuine curiosity. “What curious provisions. May I?” She picked up one of the unopened packets, examining it. “It holds no damp, offers no weight, and opens as it ought.”

“Field rations,” Isaac explained. “Designed for long-term storage.”

“There is no preservation magic whatsoever?” She turned the packet over, almost like a caveman trying to decipher an iPhone. “Such provisions would have spared us a deal of misery upon our latest quest. We were obliged to subsist upon stale rations and such mushrooms as we might discover for a full month…” Livia’s shoulders dropped – she’d had some tough runs, especially for a noble. “Your people prove vastly self-sufficient: provisions wanting no magic, weapons that demand no mana, carriages to excite the envy of any dwarf. I should think little of your Tier, given your lack of magic. However… that Sera has allied herself with your company suggests I am mistaken in this construction. What is your Tier?”

“Seven,” Henry replied. “Got promoted a few weeks back.” 

“Seven?” Livia paused and glanced toward the door, presumably thinking of the vehicles outside. “Your carriages proved formidable against the Bralnors, I grant you, but Tier rankings measure individual prowess. Forgive my candor, but you possess no mana. How do you channel power for your abilities?”

Before anyone could answer, Mal’dan approached their table, wringing his hands slightly. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sirs. I’ve some ingredients left from dinner service – enough for a pot or two more, but…” He grimaced. “Not enough to make it proper tasty, if ye take my meaning. Thought ye might want to know, seein' as yer eating…” He gestured vaguely at the MREs.

Ron's head snapped up like a hunting dog catching a scent. “You got ingredients but need flavor? Brother, you just made my night.” He was already standing. “I got spices an...

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"Captain, we've found a stowaway." The intercom system hissed in the command room.

Kray'el sighed and stood. "I'm on my way."

When he arrived, he found a human, who was sitting down, seemingly not at all bothered by the fact that he'd been caught stowing away on a Yartyl ship, a ship that held extremely sensitive equipment that the crew would not hesitate to protect with their lives.

"What happened?" He asked the one who found him, who happened to be his first mate, Tersei.

"Don't know." She responded. "He keeps insisting he's supposed to be here."

"I am!" The human insisted. "I have papers and everything!" He pulled out some form of documentation and showed it off.

Kray'el looked it over. "This... isn't for our ship." He told the human as he handed back the papers.

"It's... not?" The human, for the first time, seemed slightly... was that what they looked like when they were frightened?

"No." Kray'el sighed. Given everything he'd heard about humans, having one on board for prolonged periods of time, especially without permission, was a bad idea. "Look, even if you are here by mistake, we can't have you just running around the ship." He turned to Tersei. "Take him downstairs for now. We have human locks, right?"

"One or two...." Tersei nodded. "Never thought we'd need to use them."

"Well we don't have much choice now." Kray'el grimaced. He hoped the human would be willing to cooperate. Apparently they were capable of it, if they chose to.

"Wait, are you arresting me?" The human asked.

"Technically." Tersei replied as she began to lead him away. "But it's for your sake too. We just have to figure things out.

Kray'el knew, as Tersei must, that they were not going to let him out any time soon.

***

A few hours later, Kray'el went down to see how the human was doing (and to see how the verte guarding him were holding up against being around a human). He was sitting on the bed in the holding cell, swinging his legs.

"Oh hey, it's you!" The human said. "Hey, do you have any books I can read while I'm in here? I asked the guards, but they didn't seem to know if it was allowed. You look like you're at least kind of in charge; is there any chance you could do something about it?"

Kray'el hesitated. "I don't see why not." He said.

"Awesome, thanks!" The human smiled. "I'm getting super bored down here, so a book would really help." He looked at Kray'el for a moment, almost like he was probing him. "By the way, what's you're name?"

"My name?" Kray'el hesitated. But there was no reason to refuse, as far as he knew.

"Oh, sorry, is that rude?" The human asked. "I can go first. The name's Peter. Nice to meet you."

"Kray'el." He replied after a moment. "It's... nice to meet you too. We're still trying to figure out where we're supposed to put you, but I'll see about your book." He walked off, confused by the way this human was acting. Humans were supposed to be terrifying creatures. So why did this one seem so... calm?

***

A few days later, Kray'el was still struggling to figure out what to do with "Peter" when an alarm went off. He jumped up, hand already on the small pistol he kept on him at all times. The ship had many alarms due to the nature of their cargo, and this one was the most concerning: someone was invading their ship.

Kray'el's first thought went to the human, but comms quickly calmed his worries. It was only the re'cha, a group they would probably be able to handle with few casualties. As he ran down the ships halls towards the cargo bay, only to find someone running behind, then alongside, and then in front of him.

It was the human.

The fight didn't take too long, especially with the human there. He fought like someone who was trained, though Kray'el hadn't spoken with him enough to know. The guards might, as apparently he chatted with them fairly readily when they were around. Kray'el looked for him after the fight to thank him, but... he wasn't there.

"Has anyone seen the human?" Kray'el asked. No one had. Odd. He began to walk through the ship, trying to think about where Peter could have gone. As he walked, he found himself in the brig.

"Oh! Howdy!" Peter called from his cell. He was cheerfully waving, the cell door locked, a book set open on the bed.

"I... you... what?" Kray'el asked, at a loss for words.

Peter shrugged. "Can't have the prisoner's cell unlocked, can we?"

Kray'el took a moment to process the absurdity of that answer. "Why did you help us? We've been keeping you trapped down here for days."

"Well, you keep me warm, fed, and give me books when I'm bored. I had no guarantee whoever was by all appearances invading would do the same. And besides, I enjoy being around you guys. The guards are pretty nice once they relax a bit."

Kray'el hesitated. "You wanted to help us... because... we were 'nice'?" This was far from the terrifying humans he'd been told of.

Peter must have seen his face. "You got told the horror stories, didn't you?" He sighed. "Yeah, they get around a lot. But most humans are pretty chill and will befriend almost anyone. Heck, I know people who apologize to inanimate objects. Since I could help you out, I figured I might as well."

That brought Kray'el back to reality. "Oh yeah, about that... how did you get out of the cell? It was a human lock, it should have kept you in!"

"Oh, that." Peter shrugged. "I mean yeah, it was a lock from Earth, but I hope you didn't pay too much for them, or you got ripped off. Those locks are notorious for being easy to mess with. I didn't even need a lock pick."

"So you... could have gotten out this whole time?" Kray'el laughed ruefully. "Why didn't you?"

"Well... I didn't really see the point. It made you feel more comfortable having me on your ship, and you were hardly being ruthless captors." He gestured to the book still sitting open on the bed. "The only thing I'm missing is walks, but I think the fight made up for that."

Kray'el hesitated. "Well...." He said after a while. "I suppose if the lock isn't doing anything anyways, I might as well let you out while we try and figure out what's going on. Just... try not to freak out the crewmates too much, alright?"

"Me?" Peter asked. "I'm not freaky."

"Yes." Kray'el sighed as he unlocked the cell and let Peter out. "Yes you are."

(Edit: Formatting/phrasing errors)

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Previous

Heeding Doctor Ukan’s warning about not bringing meat into the herbivore cafeteria, Jason decided to make that side of the room his first stop. It was already busier than it had been when they walked past earlier, but there were still only a couple of people ahead of him in line. The room was set up much like just about any other cafeteria he’d ever been in before. At the start of the line was a rack of trays and silverware, and from there were a few stations with different options available. Fruits, bread-like products, pastries, some type of oatmeal-analogue, pretty much everything one might expect to see at a breakfast buffet. Minus the bacon, eggs, and sausage, of course. Another section, presumably catered to the second or third-shift workers who wouldn’t be having breakfast now, bore a strong resemblance to a salad bar.

Jason scanned the ID card on his watch as he picked up a tray, emulating what the others in front of him had been doing. Immediately, a hologram popped up out of the device. It was a square, about one foot by one foot in size, and at first it didn’t seem to do anything other than project a slight shimmer of light into the air. But when he looked through the hologram towards the food, each item began to emanate a colored aura. Nearly everything on the menu glowed blue, but pretty much every variety of nut was marked red. Each label was accompanied by some text that appeared at first in an alien language, but as he looked at it the symbols began to shift around and merge into a giant blur. After a few seconds, the blur resolved itself into the form of more writing, this time in English. The blue indicated items that were safe to eat, and the red items would be toxic to him.

Basing his choice on nothing in particular, Jason grabbed a toasted bread product resembling a smaller version of a bagel, a fruit similar in size and shape to a pear but purple, and a handful of things that were helpfully labeled as ‘blueberries’ despite having little resemblance to the Earth variant bearing the same name. The alien variant was a similar shape and size to a blackberry, but featured seeds on the outside and leaves on top like a strawberry. Not knowing which items he might like and which ones he wouldn’t, he decided he’d be better off grabbing a little bit of everything. At least until he’d gotten a chance to try everything the cafeteria had to offer.

The hologram from Jason’s watch was slightly more helpful when it came to drinks, this time offering a brief description of each menu option rather than just a name and whether or not it was safe for Human consumption. He selected the one whose description was most similar to coffee, and the dispenser filled his glass with a watermelon-red liquid that smelled vaguely sweet. From there, he decided to check out the carnivorous options. On this side of the cafeteria, he was able to eat everything on the menu. Thankfully, it seemed like bacon and eggs, or at least some variant thereof, were universal.

Once Jason finished filling up his tray, he went out into the main seating area. There were maybe two dozen people already there, with at least that many more beginning to line up on both sides of the cafeteria. Not seeing any open seats at any of the currently-occupied tables, he decided to grab his own table over by the window.

Although his first time seeing outer space in person wasn’t quite happening the way Jason had hoped, it was still his first time seeing outer space in person. He knew before he even looked out the window that he’d remember this moment for the rest of his life. A lifetime of sci-fi movies had convinced him that faster-than-light travel would be accompanied by some sort of swirling blue tunnel effect, but it looked more like a still image of a starry background than anything else. If he picked out one of the brighter and larger - and presumably, therefore, closer - stars and stared at that one in particular, he could tell that it was very slowly making its way across his field of view. But there was nothing else to indicate that the ship was in motion at all.

He couldn’t help but wonder which one of those stars outside might be home. Doctor Ukan had said something about interstellar flights taking weeks or even months, which did leave him hopeful that Earth might not be too far away. At least on a galactic scale. At that speed, it would’ve taken a while to get very far. But when he remembered what else she’d said, that he could have been frozen in stasis for centuries before they picked him up, he wondered how close he really was. Maybe it really had only been a few days. Maybe that bright star he was looking at now really was the Sun. Or maybe he was on the far side of the galaxy by now, having spent a lifetime in stasis. The fact that Humanity hadn’t yet arrived on the galactic scene gave him some hope that he hadn’t been frozen for too long, but he had to admit to himself that he had no proof of that either way. For his own sanity, he had to assume the former.

The one saving grace for the whole situation was that Ukan had said that they’d give him a ride home if they knew where to take him. Jason wasn’t much of an astronomer himself, but how hard could it be to find Earth on a map? Just pull up the alien equivalent of Google, type in ‘solar systems with 9 planets near me’, and start looking. If by some miracle it really was that easy, he was confident that he’d at least recognize pictures of the planets in his home solar system if the alien internet had any for him to find. With any luck, he’d be back home in no time.

By the time a pair of aliens wandered over to Jason’s table a few minutes later, he’d barely touched his breakfast. One of the aliens was maybe five or six inches shorter than him and somewhat resembled a bat, albeit with wings that looked more vestigial than functional, and the other was even smaller and squirrel-like. They had a long torso, short limbs, a gray-black fur pattern, and a long, thick, bushy tail.

“You’re the new guy, right?” the bat-alien asked, Jason’s translator choosing a male voice. “Can we join you?”

“Sure,” Jason replied. “I’m Jason.” By force of habit, he set his fork down and reached for a handshake, but evidently the gesture was not universal.

“Farranax,” the bat-alien introduced himself, setting his tray down across from Jason before extending his wings to display a purple striped pattern across the membranes.

“Hjelin,” the squirrel-alien said as she took the seat next to Farranax, the translator rendering her words in a female voice.

As soon as he heard their names, something clicked in Jason’s mind. “Doctor Ukan told me about you. You got here the same way I did, right?”

“We did,” Farranax confirmed.

Jason remembered that Ukan had also mentioned another name. “Where’s Oyre?”

“Probably just getting into bed about now,” Hjelin replied. “She’s second shift. But trust me, you don’t really want to talk to her.”

“Why not?” Jason asked.

“She’s a bit …” Farranax began, before Hjelin interrupted.

“Crazy?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Farranax said. “But she has some, uh, interesting ideas about the universe. If she starts telling you about that, best to just smile and nod.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason replied. His own younger brother, Troy, was the same. They’d hardly spoken at all over the last few years, and every conversation they did have inevitably devolved into an argument about 5G microchips, or chemtrails, or stolen elections, or whatever the latest buzzword in the world of conspiracy theories happened to be. He wasn’t too keen on having any more arguments like that.

“Have you decided if you’re staying on board?” Hjelin asked.

In all honesty, Jason didn’t want to stay. He’d much rather go home, given the chance. But that didn’t seem like an option, at least for now. “I hope so,” Jason said. It was really the only thing he felt like he could do, given the circumstances. Take the job that comes with food and housing, or get abandoned on an alien planet billions of miles from home with nothing but the clothes on his back. When he thought of it in those terms, it was an easy choice. “Once the shift starts, I’m going to talk to Lakim in engineering. I was a mechanic back home.”

“Mechanic, huh?” Farranax commented. “That must put your homeworld at, what, stage four?”

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. We have computers and stuff like that, we’ve explored most of our solar system with probes, but we’ve never sent a person beyond our own moon.”

“Stage five, then,” Hjelin said. “I think you’re the first stage five we’ve picked up. Even Oyre is only stage four.”

“We’re both from stage three worlds,” Farranax added. “Most of the people who end up abandoned out here are from stage zero, one, or two. Too primitive to be able to join the crew.”

Although Jason understood the general idea of what they were saying, he felt like he was missing some context. Both of them referred to the stages merely by their number, as if that alone was enough information for him to understand exactly what they meant. He made a mental note to look it up in the ship’s computers after his shift. Instead of revealing his ignorance, he asked, “What happens to them?”

“Dropped off at our next stop,” Hjelin said.

“Yeah, the doctor told me,” Jason replied. “I meant after that.”

“The Alliance takes them in,” Farranax said. “They get enough governme...

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“Watch your ammo Wheeler, I’m damn near halfway through my pack.” Rhidi called out as the Heavy Onslaught Infantry poured around them both, kneeling and taking up positions to form a firing line.

Wheeler tilted his dagger-helm towards her, still holding down the hammer as he suppressed a group of combatants behind broken engine wreckage. “We’ll time our pack reloads, remember that we have an extra pack each on the pod.”

“Lay it on them!” Sergeant First Class Bloodmourne roared into her ears, the huge Human striding forward while firing his well-battered rifle from the shoulder. “Drown them! Don’t give them time to breathe!”

The Heavy Onslaught Infantry were forming a literal wall of steel, their firing line nothing more than the flash of sunlight on steel and the angry haze of hot weapon barrels. Their enemy, whatever they were, were firing some kind of propelled munition as well that flashed with light as it hit their armor, spattering the air with sparks and leaving a small dent wherever it landed.

Rhidi risked a glance backwards; Three massive drop ships were embedded in the ground or scattered across the torn grass, and bodies were everywhere. Regs were running around, their arms pumping and armored chest plates flashing as they ran to either grab wounded, or rip equipment free of the fallen ship.

Rhidi saw a Reg with an extremely battle scarred breastplate gesturing around himself, seemingly at ease despite the chaos.

“Regs are asking for suits.” Sergeant Flores called out into their communications line, the female Human tracing her weapon and firing with even fingered practice. “Rhodil, Troy, get over there and rip that fucking door off, Rhidi, cover them with walking fire.”

“On it!” Rhidi responded, leveling her MG111 again as Rhodil the rogue Pwah prince and Troy took off at an accelerated run, churning up the ground like sprinting draft horses.

These moth people, whatever they may be, had constructed their roads on high berms, likely to keep the roads free of water and prevent them from being flooded. Rhidi and the rest of the UAA troopers were down in a large, open prairie likely used for grazing, staring up at the high berm roads.

Their enemy had been running down the berms to try and swamp the Regs, and Rhidi had to wonder if they somehow knew drop pods were coming down. It wouldn’t have surprised her, as they were all moving with a practiced tactical acumen. Despite their charge, the one eyed soldiers were now spreading out and finding cover, though more of their kind were swarming over the berm or setting up weapons up on the road.

Rhidi blinked; Those were large weapons, and their barrels looked very mean when pointing her direction.

“Heavy weapons on the berm!” Rhidi called out, hefting her MG111 up into her shoulder proper and spraying lead so it skipped along the road, and tore through anything made of flesh. “Silhouettes on the sky!” 

“Shift fire to the berm!” Sergeant Flores howled, and the Human was now moving forward. “On me, 1st pod!”

Rhidi’s fellow drop troopers bounded forward, their legs slowly coming to full speed as the line reacted. A command must have gone out over the NCO communications as 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Pod Sections were now coming to full speed, the entire Platoon charging forward to gain an angle on the berm.

Rhidi continued walking sideways, firing in long bursts as targets presented themselves; She traced along the berm to either kill the one-eyes or get them to cower in cover, then ran her stream of fire along multiple defilades. She managed to catch three one eyed soldiers across their chests, and Rhidi bared her fangs as sunlight briefly glowed through their bodies.

Her ear mics picked up the Regs yelling at Rhodil and Troy.

“Take it! Take it to the one with the ears!” A Human was shouting, and she heard the rattle of ammunition.

“Reload incoming, Rhidi.” Rhodil said with a calm tone, the actuators of his leg armor slowly growing in volume as Troy ripped the door away with a shriek of tortured steel.

Rhidi slammed down onto her right knee and kept the hammer back, spraying along the berm again as a large crew served automatic weapon started barking at them, causing a drop trooper to stumble backwards and clatter onto the ground.

“Medic inbound.” A voice purred over the all-comms, and a female Human came walking from out of nowhere; Her armor was normal, her helmet bright white with a red cross running down the middle of her visor…

… but her mocambre was already sliding out from beneath her palm, dripping with Aloe-8.

Rhidi shuddered in horror as Rhodil came down behind her, the medic stalking after her prey.

“Someone’s about to have a very bad day…” Rhodil murmured as he popped the tray release on Rhidi’s ammo pack and opened the front cover, linking her old belt with a new one.

Rhidi turned back towards the berm to see not one, but two very angry looking weapon teams turning her direction.

“So are we.” Rhidi said with a grimace, turning the shoulder with the gardbrace towards the weapons. “Get small behind me.”

Rhodil chuckled at her in response, the ringing song of moving brass never ceasing. “My dear I am a Pwah, even in this armor they cannot see me with you in the way! Almost done.”

Rhidi saw the flashes from the weapons discharging and leaned forwards, pulling her MG111 to her chest as the rounds impacted against her a few heartbeats later.

“Shit!” Rhidi barked out as the impact of the rounds nearly carried her backwards, pulling her up from her lean and nearly causing her to bowl over Rhodil.

“I got you!” Rhodil shouted, using one hand to keep Rhidi upright and the other slamming her ammo pack shut. “Troy?!”

Rhidi heard Troy say “God damn it! Just use me!” over their comm-link in an annoyed growl, and after three heartbeats the berm started erupting in huge plumes of soil and ripped apart roadway. She risked a look over her shoulder as her helmet pinned her ears for her, and let out a short laugh.

Holding onto two barrels with his armored hands and hefting the rest on his shoulder armor, Troy was acting as a mount for four M2 heavy machine guns. Each Reg was moving them back and forth, their helmets flashing yellow as they held down the butterfly triggers to give Rhidi come cover.

Cover was a word for it, more to the point that they had reduced both heavy weapon teams to bloody, flesh littered skid marks across the now ruined roadway.

“That’s our que.” Rhodil said, coming around Rhidi with his weapon raised and firing.

Rhidi came up onto her feet, then glanced at her weapon status:

• MG111: 12% heat
• MG111: 10000*/10000rnds
• Mount Arm: 91%

“That’ll do.” Rhidi said with a bright smile, then swung her MG111 back out in front of her. She pulled back on the trigger with the bright, bonfire flash of the muzzle brake, her weapon chattering out a maddening buzz as she started walking again.

Behind her more M2s and M260 Boars were opening up, freed from the clutches of their fallen craft, with wounded Regs crawling up to get a little revenge on those who had shot them out of the sky during landing.

Despite the overwhelming firepower, the one eyed assailants were more determined and highly disciplined; More of their own crewserves were opening up from a bushy woodline to their left, while their regular infantry held. Both sides were attempting to hold sway over fire superiority, and it was still coming out to a hard stalemate.

When an enemy munition exploded with a great clap amongst the drop infantry, things were starting to take a turn; It must have been a high angle mortar-like weapon of some kind, the flash bright but very little shrapnel to be found. Whatever did make contact with their armor behaved the same as their munitions, giving off great sparks of light with a concussive force.

Another mortar-like round fell near Rhidi and Rhodil, scratching their armor fiercely and causing them to stumble to their knees. The round may not have had a lot of shrapnel, but it packed a helluva wallop with the pressure wave.

The unit chatter in her ear was constant, everyone reporting in what they were seeing or calling out for targets. A far more authoritative voice cut through them all, one that made Rhidi’s helmet perk her ears without her gesture.

“Guidons, Guidons, Iron Rain 6, take that fucking ridge!”

Drop Officer Duluth had actually used the all-command channel in their helmets, his voice broadcasting to every trooper under his command.

For the first time since she had arrived, Rhidi had received her first Company-wide command. Such commands were rare, used only when delegation of commands would cost valuable time, and she had received one on her first combat drop.

The renewed adrenaline rush caused her fur to raise on end all across her body, and she felt a need to… say something.

“Kafya, drop your bags!” Rhidi called out, steeling her voice as she blinked at the release for her tail bag. “Tails out!”

Without another word Rhidi started forward, her bright yellow tail fluttering free and rustling in the wind as she ran. The sun glittered on the exposed metal of her armor as she fired on the move, the entire gunline of Heavy Onslaught Infantry surging forward like a tidal wave of iron, lead, and steel. Pops of color were erupting amongst their ranks as more yellow, brown, pink, blue, red, orange, black, and green Kafyan tails fluttered out into the sunlight.

Their one-eyed enemy, seeing a hulking line of assault armor com...

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Planet XJ-1

 Ch 17:  The Vanguard

Rhidi and the rest of the drop troopers sat in a Battle Room, wearing their olive drab IB suits and staring at a large screen.

They had come out of their final skip days ago, tracking the signal that had brought them all the way here to this planet in the first place. Sensors had been off the charts, detecting a fleet of some sort around the other side of the planet, but the two groups of ships were keeping a tidal lock on each other, mirroring the other and keeping out of sight.

This was not exactly odd, but Rhidi’s Human commanders and their accompanying scientists weren’t sure what was going on until recon drones finally got to the surface. What the drones recorded was one highly advanced race hunting down the locals, darting them like animals and dragging them back to holding containers.

It became clear, quite quickly, that one race was attacking two others, and the Regs began landing within minutes in their great drop ships. The carriers deployed light bombers to zip in and drop explosives in order to give the locals time to retreat further, which led to dogfights in atmosphere; F-14-PP3 “Star Cats” were deployed, air superiority craft that found these enemy fighters quite trifling, leading to thirty seven aerial victories to a single downed F-14-PP within only half an hour of dueling each other. While the enemy fighters pushed on their engines and left atmosphere, the F-14-PP3s instead hovered overhead, watching the pilot and co-pilot of their downed fighter.

The locals down below, at first afraid, started helping the wounded pilot from his craft. This led to the Regs having to balance their approach to the towns, landing peacefully and unboarding without weapons drawn since they had the time. It turned out to be a good idea, as the Regs had found the smaller, razor-handed insectoids that lived on the planet rather feisty compared to their softer, taller fellows.

On the screen, the Regs had dug in around a large town, the technology level barely out of the late Bronze Age.

“Tell me again what they are?” Rhidi said, her eyes watching as the Regs repulsed another probe by their new enemy.

Alias rolled his shoulders, then leaned back with a creak of his IB suit. “They’re some insectoid race, but with an extremely advanced evolutionary progress. According to the Regs, they look a lot like moths but with more Humanoid features and vestigial wings. The mothfolk have two sets of arms like the Kojynn, but there is also a subrace of little warriors that just have blades for hands, two sets, and a pair of powerful legs.”

“Are they tall?” Shasta asked. 

Alias shook his head. “The mothfolk are barely over four feet tall, the little warriors are just under three. They were a bit shook up when the Regs landed, but are actively helping the Regs now that they understand what is going on.”

“How did they manage to get acrosss the language barrier?” Shasta asked. “Their language won’t be in our archives, so the data-slatesss won’t be able to do their things… and I am sssure they don’t know English.”

Alias let out a little chuckle. “Well, the little warrior fellows were posturing quite brazenly when the Regs landed, but once the Regs started putting holes in the people that had been kidnapping them… the point got across quite quickly. Can’t blame them though, I’d be on edge too if some fucking alien race had come down and started stealing my people.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t attack us on sight.” Rhidi said off handedly, crossing her arms. “I’d start swinging at anything that didn’t look like a Kafya if that kind of shit was happening around me.”

“At ease!” A voice bellowed out, cutting across them all and their idle chatter.

Rhidi and everyone else stood, arms behind their backs at the position of parade rest, as Drop Officer Duluth and First Sergeant Lower entered the room. Drop Officer Duluth looked more like a librarian than an officer, but there was a look in his green eyes that offset his mousey brown hair and muscular frame. First Sergeant Lower looked more like a tired teacher than an NCO, but his hands appeared as if they could crumble concrete to dust. His hair was more of a ruddy brown, paired with dark blue eyes.

“As you were.” Drop Officer Duluth called out to the gathered Platoons, then rapidly tapped along his palm so the Qua-quid display came off the wall, going horizontal in plane and displaying the planet. “We’ve been trying to pin down the enemy fleet as we orbit this world, designated XJ-1 until we can figure out how to talk to the natives. Class I pre-Iron Age world that has been under assault from these people.”

The display produced a three dimensional model of their enemy; They were brutish looking things, bipedal with a medium build. Unlike most known races of the stars, they bore only a single eye in the middle of their faces, bald along the scalp with ears that looked more like juts of rock rather than fleshy outcroppings. Their noses were just as angular with three nostril openings, above a lipless mouth filled with spine-like teeth. Their armor looked professional and modern by non-Human standards… but it still looked oddly… cheap.

“We do not know what they are, we simply know that they are highly aggressive. From what the 16th Division has been able to gain, they are taking the natives back in pods up to their ships, and we are coming to a logical conclusion that these people are slavers… that, or they are like the Pactless and use other races as a source of food.” Drop Officer Duluth said grimly, tapping his thumb pad with a finger to pull the map of the planet back into focus. “They are light in number and the 16th Division has had an easy time forming a line, but they are now coming down in massive numbers, numbers that do not make sense for the amount of ships we are detecting. As of right now, our scans tell us that nearly a quarter of this world’s population has been stolen, but where all those beings went is still a mystery. The rest of the population is currently fleeing en masse to the safety of the 16th, while the 72nd Division has begun their landings to give the civilians a new area to run to for safety. When they first landed the enemy was in the number of a few thousand, but it has skyrocketed to over sixteen thousand and climbing. Our technicians believe they may have advanced technology aboard those ships and that is why they are mirroring us, making sure we can’t disrupt them.”

The screen slowly zoomed in on the planet as Drop Officer Duluth manipulated the camera, in which First Sergeant Lower stepped forward.

“They are massing here, along the main anvil of the 16th. The 16th has multiple Brigades of armored vehicles, and while casualties are light, we believe they will soon, somehow, come under assault from over twenty thousand enemy troops and vehicles. We are confident they can hold and safeguard the civilians for as long as they need to, as they are dug in deep and fortified. The 72nd is landing around another larger town, one we believe may be some sort of capital-” First Sergeant Lower was cut off by a loud, ringing alarm, followed by three sharp, shrilling whistles as the display zoomed out on its own.

Drop Officer Duluth looked down at the map angrily, furrowing his brows as his eyes flared to life with the annoyance that only a CO could understand.

“Sir?” First Sergeant Lower said, stepping quickly over to Drop Officer Duluth.

The man stared hard at the map, blinking as information was fed to him through an inner-skull implant that allowed him to hear without blocking his ears. Drop Officer Duluth then jerked his head up, his gaze narrowed. “They’re launching an ambush against the 72nd as they are landing, fifteen thousand men just appeared out of the fucking ether! To your pods, now!”

“Hoooiii!” Specialist Fredrick bellowed, coming to his boots once again. “Time to scrape paint!”

The Battle Room vibrated with the warcry of the Platoons, and boots began to pound down the alleyways towards the armory. Rhidi could feel the ship rumbling and manoeuvring under her boots, the engines roaring to speed as Void Navy gunners sprinted to their positions along other alleyways.

Rhidi was fast, slipping under and around Humans as she skittered into her armory pod, holding up her arms. The mechanical arms of the fitting machines were already buzzing around her before her arm muscles settled, slamming her armor into place around her in record time. The usual small screen flickered with words near her line of vision:

Private First Class Rhidi, SOBP-19621983: Confirmed

• All armor pieces accounted for
• All armor pieces showing 100% functionality
• Armor rating: 100%
• Ammo load: 10,000 rounds
• Deployments: XJ-1
• Confirmed kills of record: N/A
• Drops: N/A
• Current assignment ship: The Wild Hunt
• SOBP record: Clean

The whirring, thudding locks of her Skógarskera armor coming together filled her ears as everyone else began to get their armor on as well, her chestplate giving a final, vibrating shunt of metal as it was locked into the rest of the plating. Her suit hummed to life and swarmed with movement as the plates adapted, allowing the arms to lock her fully loaded ammunition pack onto her back. The arms took her rifle and placed it beside her ammo pack, then gave Rhidi her MG111 after attaching its servo arm. She was already moving ...

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Chapter 226 – All under your watch

“Oh, sweet ziffliar!” the powerful voice of Councilwoman Majistheria Avalogahta Tua rang through the station as she called out to her daughter with an overly-relieved tone. The old zodiatos started to quickly hurry over to the approaching group, the ground shaking under her hasty steps as she barreled in their direction at a speed that almost seemed threatening, considering her size.

A few of the soldiers actually twitched to raise their weapons, but Admir managed to quickly and more importantly quietly get them to reconsider that with a few subtle gestures. Meanwhile, any passerby – even the most maddened of those rioting or the most rugged of the carnivores standing against them – who found themselves even remotely in her way quickly dashed aside to make room for the stomping titan.

All the while, Ajifianora still kept her earlier posture, seemingly trying to make herself appear as large as at all possible.

“I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am that you are alright, my sweet!” the old Councilwoman continued, only gradually slowing down as she neared what the colossi considered conversational range, her trunk still swinging from side to side while her ears heavily fanned her neck. “I thought anything might have happened to-”

“Less talking, more walking,” Admir interrupted the raving mother. He had walked up to Ajifianora’s side by now, and he gave her a heavy – though in their dimensions likely still hardly noticeable – punch against her leg to try and gain her attention.

Lifting his gaze away from her and to the older Councilwoman, he very loudly and firmly added,

“We are on borrowed time already. You can talk while you walk.”

Majistheria shook her head as if in surprise for a moment, before then quickly glaring down at the human in obvious indignation.

Her daughter, however, seemed to have received the message loud and clear. Though a bit reluctant, she dropped her ‘display posture’ and allowed her trunk to sink down.

“This is no place to chat, mother,” she quickly agreed with her human guard and started to wave the older woman along as she began to walk again. “We only have minutes to get off the station.”

“Get off the station?” Majistheria replied, sounding a bit confused. As if rooted in place, she bent her long neck around her body to follow her daughter’s movement as she walked past her at first. “What are you saying?”

Only once Ajifianora had walked almost completely past her mother did the latter finally turn in a wide arch to try and walk after her offspring, which in turn caused some of the defensively positioned humans around the group to have to scatter so they wouldn't accidentally end up in her footpath.

“I’m saying we are leaving,” Ajifianora repeated herself in no uncertain terms. She turned to look back at her mother and, in the same movement, reached her trunk back to tangle it with that of her Nahfmir-Durrehefren.

The young bull was still getting weaker, and by now it seemed like he was starting to have honest trouble keeping up with the young Matriarch.

“The humans have worked hard to create an opening for me to do so after the exits were inexplicably blocked. I am not going to let all that go to waste,” Ajifianora explained further while she gently pulled Durrehefren along.

“Exit from the station is blocked because of all the chaos that is going on!” Majistheria tried to ‘explain’ as she quickened her steps to catch up to her daughter, soon walking almost side by side with her. “We should get to safety and wait until order has been reestablished.”

“Bit late for that…” Admir scoffed under his breath, knowing it was quiet enough to go unheard.

“That is not what those trying to leave were told,” Ajifianora meanwhile countered her mother’s words. “And after Dunnima, Nedstaniot, and Gewelitten, I am not about to gamble with the good will of an approaching invasion!”

She briefly glanced back at the struggling bull she was pulling with worry in her eyes.

“Invasion?” Majistheria scoffed with an almost dismissive tone of voice as she raised up her trunk. “My sweet, these are our troops approaching. They merely come-”

“I don’t care what you say!” Ajifianora suddenly exclaimed, loud enough to all at once silence the ongoing chaos and noise on the street they traversed as all surrounding eyes, both friend and foe, were pulled onto her from the sheer volume of her trumpeting shout. For a moment, her head fully whipped around, using the full length of her neck to stare directly in her mother’s face – so much so that she had to angle her head down a bit so that their tusks wouldn’t accidentally tangle. “People have died! People are still dying! What in the stars could possibly make you try to compel me to remain in a place that is actively descending into chaos? Even if what you say was true and those ships were coming here to create order, what makes you think that a better place for me would be right here in the midst of it instead of being far away while those “peace-keepers” sort things out here? Do you think I am daft? Do you think I do not see that the only reason you could possibly want me here is to apply more pressure?”

Majistheria recoiled slightly, lifting her head up in a manner that seemed quite honestly taken aback.

“Apply pressure?” she asked, and her tone almost made it believable that she hadn’t thought of things that way up until that point. Though then her voice packed a bit more force once again as she carefully reached her trunk out to her daughter. “My sweet, I am trying to protect you. That’s what I’ve always tried to do-”

Her trunk was smacked away as Ajifianora momentarily tore her own loose from that of her companion to deliver a forceful strike against it; the dull sound of the fleshy impact echoing out across the still silence-stricken street.

“You didn’t even protect me from my own father!” the young Matriarch screamed out. And it was a scream. It was primal, wet, and visceral, entirely different from her earlier shouting.

Majistheria’s eyes widened as she stared at her daughter as the young woman’s body shook, rocked by heavy breathing as she glared right back.

“I don’t know what in the world you think you have to protect me from,” Ajifianora continued, slowly lowering her voice as she spoke, though it was far more hoarse and gravelly now. “But it’s nothing that has ever concerned me. But, the things I’m really scared off? Father coming home. Hearing aunt Apo talk about what she’s really been doing behind the scenes. Witnessing our own people conduct a massacre...that is what truly terrifies me. And it all happened right under your watch.”

With wetting eyes, she turned her head once again, giving another long look to Durrehefren as he was shaking in exhaustion.

Majistheria, apparently speechless, looked at her daughter for a few long seconds. Then, she followed her gaze.

It was almost as if she only then noticed the state that the young bull was in, while Ajifianora already reached out to take his trunk into hers once more.

“Merrokhules…” she more exhaled than said as she leaned towards him. “What happened to you?”

Admir couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow slightly. From some cursory research, he was aware of the name the bull had before he began to vie for the title of Durrehefren. However, this was the first time he had ever actually heard someone actively use it to address him.

The bull huffed, his trunk briefly stiffening from the sharp exhale before Ajifianora could gently hold it.

“It’s nothing,” he said sternly, though his trunk shook as he held onto that of the young Matriarch.

Admir then decided to insert himself again, moving close enough to nudge Ajifianora one more time. A moment ago, there would’ve been no chance of getting through to her. But they still had to move.

“There was a scuffle between him and his rival earlier,” the Lieutenant then informed in a sober tone while Ajifianora took his hint and began to walk, pulling Durrehefren along. “During which, I suspect the Nahfmir-Durrehefren managed to inject him with some kind of venom. Which is another reason that we need to move quickly.”

Majistheria pulled her head back slightly.

“Venom?” she half-whispered, looking at the young bull with both doubt and renewed concern. “He wouldn’t…”

Her words were cut a bit short as Ajifianora gave her a sharp glare over her shoulder. It seemed like the young woman was completely done making any sort of concessions towards what her mother thought.

The glare was effective in keeping her mother at bay for about two seconds. Then, Majistheria suddenly dashed forward, shooting out her trunk to wrap it around the tangle formed between that of the two younger zodiatos.

“Wait!” she exclaimed as she wrapped the two halves of the appendage tightly, holding on even as Ajifianora immediately began to try and shake her loose again. “Wait, Ajifianora, listen to me!”

Despite his condition, Durrehefren now perked up. With firm steps he pushed himself forwards, quickly shoving himself in-between mother and daughter as he took...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2025-07-01 21:46:15+00:00.

First

(Yay! I forgot about Canada Day and to go to bed! Glee!)

Capes and Conundrums

They arrive at the burnt out and melted section of wall, numerous hunters and police are already there, and the stones are still so hot that any unprotected skin is getting burnt in moments. A couple Fire Erumenta, an Apuk and a Cannidor with reinforced boots and gauntlets are examining things as several Undaunted Soldiers are assisting the police keeping the more reckless and careless away.

No lava serpent had ever attacked the city before. This was getting all the attention and...

“Hey! Can’t you see the police line? Back away before you get yourselves cooked through! The heat here is second only to the trenches!”

“My name is Brutality Wayne, my family and I are all legal Bounty Hunters and registered investigators in numerous jurisdictions. The only one without a direct license is my grandson Terrance who is here to learn as we work.” Brutality says pulling out an ID and showing the officer who takes it and quickly runs a scan.

“You’ve got a lot of registered jurisdictions. And even more captures sweet Primals...”

“I’ve been at this for a while, although to be fair a lot of those were with the assistance of my many, many students and children.”

“You’re the teaching sort.”

“My father taught me that there is a great good in helping others. This is how I interpreted it.” Brutality says genially.

“Well you certainly took the lesson to heart if your family here is any indicationa and... is that one a child?”

“Teen, a few short years from being a legal adult. My grandson.”

“I see.” She says... “Is most of your family male?”

“There is a higher propensity for sons than is normal among the Wayne family.”

“Heh, Wayne, just like in the goofy stories. Did you change it?”

“No, it’s pre-existing.” Brutality notes in a mildly irritated tone.

“Oh... the city must be awkward for you to be in.”

“It’s something.” Brutality states calmly. “But more importantly, we’re going to take a look at the entrance hole.”

“Do you have thermal protection? Anyone without massive heat resistance is going to cook alive just going near it.”

“We have it handled. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? The small cavern the thing came out of is retaining heat even more than the corpse of the monster.”

“I’m certain. Thank you for your concern madam.” Brutality states and she sighs but nods.

As Brutality heads back to the group there is a sudden whistle and he turns his head to see Harold... walking barefoot over the obsidian so hot it has heat distortions coming off it.

“Where are you boots?”

“I didn’t want them to melt.” He says as if that bit of madness made any sense. “Anyways, we got hit with a plasma blast from a drone within a few minutes of the serpent showing up, to say nothing of the lizards and birds. The odds of it being a coincidence are so long as to be absurd.”

“Okay... and why are you not wearing boots?”

“I want to feel the melted glass squelch between my toes. Can we focus?”

“You’re crazy.” Someone nearby notes and Harold turns to stick his tongue out at them before turning back to Brutality.

“Back to topic. You think that whoever set off an explosive inside your facility also unleashed the beasts?”

“And may have been responsible for the attack on Hafid.”

“Do you now?” Brutality asks.

“Too many events happening all at once. I figure it’s best to consider them all connected, investigate each part, but be ready to chase them all down to the end, even if it proves you wrong.”

“An interesting mindset. Do you have anyone on mister Tonk then?”

“I have four Private Streams following him. Three in a trenchcoat and being obvious as they gather attention, one to be mildly seen from afar, and then the actual spy is not perceivable by any senses they have demonstrated.”

“... Could you repeat that please?”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• Four Streams and Rain)•-•-•

It was purest madness. How and why the Private Stream drones even had a sit on each other’s shoulders under a long coat protocol in their automatic state was baffling. The one on the top trying to look ‘mysterious’ and ‘surreptitious’ was more attention getting than the pile up of miniature people they were sitting on and taking almost all attention away from the one peering out from around corners.

All this meant that even if Halford Tonk had the capacity to detect her, he’d be so distracted by the nonsense happening that he likely wouldn’t.

On some level she understands. A comedy of errors happening in eye shot and clearly to people trying to spy on you would have someone put their guard up in entirely the wrong direction and put it down completely facing the wrong way.

Hence why she was currently copying everything on the data-chip she had stolen from the man. Her being subtle is just a case of reflex at this point and honestly it was just...

Another Vishanyan rockets overhead riding a giant jumping lizard. She pauses for a moment at the absurdity of reality and then looks down to find out that the copy was complete and she took it out and tucked the chip back into place as she slowly reaches into and starts going through Tonk’s expanded pocket as he stares at the Private Stream with the big obvious notepad taking big obvious notes.

More likely he’s scribbling something.

“Really?!” Apparently Halford has found his limit and she barely manages to move with him standing up incredulously. She pulls her hand away before being noticed as the trenchcoat Streams topple over, rip the coat and scramble into different directions with cries of distress.

Even if she was perfectly visible she’d be invisible with that mess happening.

“I give up. Today is too weird, too... everything.” Halford says with a sigh before putting down money for the drink he had ordered at the cafe and walking away. “Stalked over and over again, animal attacks, a fucking lava serpent in the city, how much more insane can things get?”

She follows him closely. Always on the opposite side of the ‘stalking’ Private Stream to make sure that if he suddenly turns to point that he’s not going to smack her or something. But he leads her to a public transport and then breaks into a run to slip onto a bus before Private Stream can get there.

She also fails to get on, but she’s more than capable of phasing through the door way shortly before it takes off and just standing in the entrance. Letting things calm down Axiom-wise before moving and then carefully picking her way into a place to stand near him.

“Finally.” Halford notes to himself with Rain right there to listen to him. “God damnit mother, you’ve overdone things today.”

Not a technical confession, not admissible in any court. But that’s Axiom-Ride level valuable on the slip-up level.

Several Swoop Callers are being brought down more peacefully in the distance as the sheer chaos that had hit the city calms down and Halford sighs. “Subtle as Skathac itself.”

Again, Axiom-Ride level valuable, but not proof in and of itself.

She keeps close to him as he arrives at his destination and gets off at the thirty third level platform between multiple skyscrapers. The plateau-top gardens looking bright and inviting with active sunlamps pointed right at them to give the impression of being outside despite the entire city being in a cavern.

There is a Private Stream already there, waiting with a local book held up in front of his face. Complete with obvious eyeholes to watch Halford with.

The man sighs and walks up to the little synth. “Okay, that is far more than enough. Why are you stalking me?”

“Stalking? Who said anything about stalking?” The Private Stream asks.

“I did, because you are stalking me.” Halford says. “Why?”

“... Abandon Mission!” Private Stream suddenly calls out and half the plants suddenly stand up and run away. The one on the bench goes nowhere as Halford grabs him by the collar.

“Explanations. Now.”

“Training?”

“Training.”

“We need to know how to position ourselves around public figures without getting in the way or causing harm so...”

“... This is bodyguard training?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you trying to spy on me?”

“We need to make sure nothing got into yoru food or clothes or...”

“Okay... did I accidentally sign a contract somewhere that states I can be used as a training dummy?”

“Yes.”

“Where!?”

“Right here, when The Undaunted were permitted to set up in the city we got approval to perform non-violent exercises in public so long as we do not interfere with the standard business of the residents or administration. See here? You’re employer, the mayor, signed it and therefore it’s considered legally binding that you... hey!” Private Stream starts to explain before the communicator is plucked out of his hands and Halford begins examining the contract.

“Give it back!” Private Stream says climbing onto the bunch to grab at it and Halford steps away. Then holds it higher as Private Stream makes a jump for it. Then starts repeating himself with endless repetitions of: “Give it back! Give it back!”

“This is actually legal. And you’re putting your stalking of me into this?”

“Not stalking! Protective detail!”

“And what about that one writing on a notepad?”

“Jerry? He doodles.”

“You’re all raw recruits aren’t you?” Halford asks.

“How’d you guess?”

“It’s obvious.” Halford says. “Consider this a direct order. I am no longer an appropriate target for practice protection de...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PepperAntique on 2025-07-01 20:51:54+00:00.

Previous / First

Writer's note: Still writing. Still continuing. Just chugging along behind the scenes here. Also Reddit's acting weird. Hopefully the formatting is okay.

Enjoy.

Eli had been on the losing side of fights before.

As a young child moving through the QZ's first school program, the school having just opened, he'd been bullied for being a "half-Earther". He hadn't been the only one.

As a teen he'd been harassed by his own elvish cousins. Partly because of his mixed blood. But also because his cousins had been jealous of his private tutelage under their family's patriarch, which had been an acknowledgment of his skill in the family craft. But because of his nature, he'd never been allowed to retaliate.

And as an adult he'd become first an officer of the law, albeit only for the QZ. Then he'd become one of the QZ's first non-human detectives.

And every cop, human or otherwise, eventually got involved in a fight they couldn't win.

But those were different.

As a child he'd always been able to count on a teacher showing up.

As a teen he'd always known that his cousins COULDN'T go as far as they likely wanted because they would be shunned from the family if they did. Even for mixed blood members, elves didn't let family hurt family. At least not in any lasting, or visible, way.

And as an officer and detective, he'd always been able to count on backup being somewhere around to lend him a hand. And they'd always managed to come through in time. He'd been lucky that way.

But when the Petravian prince/archmage rebounded off of an invisible barrier just before blasting his way out of the facility they were in, Eli knew.

They all knew.

There would be no backup this time. No adults to breakup the schoolyard brawl. No aunts or uncles to pull the offending parties apart. No partner, or EMT's, or a nearby patrol car to ride in like the cavalry.

No. As they all paused at the resounding **-DUMMM!-** sound that emanated from above, followed immediately by a pitiable cry of pain, he and all the Petravian soldiers around him knew that this was a fight that NONE of them would be winning or escaping.

The fighting seemed to pause as they watched the crimson and gold form of the prince fall. A shimmering blue shield still luminating above him from where he'd impacted it.

They saw the streamer of blood that seemed to follow him, almost matching his robes as it obeyed gravity. 

They all saw how oddly crooked his neck was as he fell past the level they were on and continued falling past sight.

Then they were reminded of their situation as one of the soldiers in their front ranks was pulled into the gaping maw of one of the cyber-golems and systematically dismantled by the whirling blender that was its many appendages.

Eli sliced a few appendages off of his opponent. Then he stepped back a bit as the Petravians around him rushed forward and continued fighting.

Gunshots and the familiar whip-crack sound of man-portable MAC rifles began to sound from where he'd seen the RTI goons streaming in. A soldier near him rocked back as a quarter sized hole was punched through their sternum. Eli crouched down as he watched the soldier drop their axe and inspect the hole for a moment. Then they fell limply to the ground.

Eli's hands slipped into his coat pockets and fished around in the expanded space there.

And when they emerged they were coated in a pair of skintight gloves and bejeweled with so many rings it was a wonder his fingers could move. He also retrieved a pair of goggles and put them over his eyes.

He stood up, a translucent shield forming in their air between him and the incoming fire.

"Get behind me!" He commanded the soldiers around him.

He snapped the fingers of his left hand and sparks flared around his finger tips as his rings began luminating in a cascading rainbow of color. He brought his right hand up and formed a circle around his mouth, as if he was about to inflate a balloon.

The soldiers, sensing the magical crescendo rising within him, jogged to do as told.

And when he blew through the opening a torrent of flame akin to a dragon's breath blasted forth with the heat of a welding torch.

Fire and cold blue lightning burst forth from his hands as Eli began to burn through an arsenal of magical items he'd accumulated, crafted, and modified over the course of nearly fifty years of slowly progressing enchantment craft.

And as rounds, and appendages bounced and ricocheted off his shield, he stole their kinetic energy and funneled it into his magic like a self fueling flame.

If he was going to lose this fight, he at least intended to make a show of it.

As Eli began incinerating the nearest cyber golems the soldiers behind him began sending enchanted crossbow bolts and rune stones at the gunmen behind the golems.

Black veins began burning into Eli's arms and face, as he began moving forward.

The ring on his left pinky burst. The skin around it was scorched and bruised, and the sparks that hand had been producing shifted to a brilliant neon pink.

And they began killing golems even faster.

He wondered at the sudden burst of magic he felt from beyond the enemy lines.

It was coming from where the prince had fallen.

Marina was sitting on a discarded ammo crate, drinking from a bottle of ice cold water when Madame Choi landed next to her in a slam, startling her into spilling some of the cold refreshment.

"We need to go." Minara said as Tieren appeared from behind her, seemingly from thin air.

"What's going on?" Marina asked as she toweled sweat out of the fur on her arms and stood up. "Am I in trouble? I thought I was doing well."

"You did fine." Tieren assured her.

"Something's going on." Minara said with a note of distress in her voice that legitimately alarmed Marina. "I have to get back to the surface."

"And we'll be safer up there with her." Tieren added.

Marina shrugged. "Okay." She said simply as she moved to join them. "Did I really do okay?" She asked as she neared Tieren.

Tieren rolled his eyes, unimpressed at how easily she'd taken the change of plans.

"You still smell like a wet dog." He said as he produced another towel. Again, seemingly from thin air. "If you ever really want to sneak you'll need to get that thermo-regulation magic down perfectly. Any were out there would smell you from a mile away."

"Really?" Marina asked as she lifted her arm and sniffed at her armpit. She recoiled as she smelled herself. "Okay fair. What's going on that we have to leave?"

"My cousin just died." Minara Choi said with a grimace.

She lifted her hand, and on it was a ring that looked like it was made of fur. Set into it was a series of gems that looked like eyes that were not too far off from Marina's own.

One of thee eyes had closed. And the others around it were flaring with brilliant orange light as they darted back and forth, as though they were searching for something.

"What the hell is that?" Marina asked.

"A family heirloom from my grandmother." Minara replied as she opened the door that had appeared on the wall nearby and stepped through. "Part of a paired set." She whispered to herself just before disappearing.

Marina and Tieren followed, though when she got to the other side Marina didn't see the older man.

"Where did-" She began.

"He's going ahead." Minara cut her off. She gestured to one of her people, who came over quickly. "Follow Matthew and rest for the night." She said as she walked away. "We'll talk when I get back." She raised her arm and circled it in the air above her as she began shifting. Marina was fairly certain she'd seen that gesture in an old military action movie somewhere. "BRING ME MY ARMOR!" She yelled as she disappeared around a corner.

"Please follow me Miss Smith." Matthew said as he held out a bottle of Gatorade. "We need to clear out of this room. We don't want to get in the way."

It was as he said that that she realized just how busy the room around them was.

It wasn't the main room she'd met Madame Choi in all the times before. But instead seemed to be some kind of massive warehouse/garage.

People all around her were rushing to get into all different kinds of semi-military gear and arming themselves as engines and enchantments of all kinds began warming up on the vehicles.

"What the hell is going on?" She wondered as Matthew guided her out.

"The Petravian capital is under attack." Matthew informed her. "And some kind of war is being waged underneath the Rockies."

"What?!" Marina asked in confusion as they finally left the room and began back toward more familiar ground.

She didn't see the massive armored red dragon that flew past one of the windows she passed. Which meant she also missed the massive spear it was clutching in its hands as it flew, the head of which was actually a massive missile.

Barcadi came to consciousness in a blaze of amber light as she was healed again.

"Stop it." She said quietly as she struggled to breath. "Stop. Just kill me."

"Oh I will." The silver capped were said as he ran a claw across her torso.

His nails dug into her flesh like razor blades. Her skin was sallow and sunken and pale. The result of decades of confinement in her suit. And while the suit kept it moisturized, it was stil...
***
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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Sylesth on 2025-07-01 20:03:43+00:00.

More writing! A little bit more crafting, and a fight this time! Managed to write some more this week and it's enough for me to post, and so I shall.

Enjoy!

First | Previous | Next

Dragons vary greatly, in size, intelligence, and many other characteristics. From small forest drakes that hunt prey no larger than deer to immense beasts that slumber for years or even decades before emerging to gorge themselves before returning to sleep. They are, invariably, all predators, however. Possessed of a certain craftiness, a certain… force of will. A captive dragon will never stop seeking escape, or in lieu of this, violence. Only the bounds of a skill can calm such a fire, and even then those few that have managed to tame a drake or dragon tend to report that the beasts chafe at any kind of confinement and are often unhappy when not on the move or hunting something. Due to the difficulty of studying any kind of dragonoid in captivity, little is known about their lifespan, breeding habit, or other habits of life – most studies stem from dead specimins. Skill users that have managed to subdue a dragon should not be considered an infallible source of information on the beasts, either, for their abilities are sure to have influence upon the beasts’ behaviors.

-Part of Trussarian Braff’s lecture on dragons to the University of Sempta

***************************************************************************************************************

The entire time, Valteria watched silently, interested in the process. She laid stomach down on the bed, propped up on her elbows, observing the runes slowly inscribing themselves across the weapons and arrows. Once Xander had set the last item down, she sighed, no longer fearing interrupting the process. “You know, it really is unfair how fast you can improve something. When I need to prototype something new, it can take weeks of tinkering to get it just right. My suit took years of work!” She said, in false exasperation.

“Well, to be fair, there wasn’t much prototyping going on. Just on the shaft of the arrow,” Xander admitted. “I was just making them harder to break for the most part, since they’re already magical. Well, except for the arrows and your big ass mace. They aren’t magical. Speaking of which… would you like your mace to be magical?”

Valteria looked thoughtful. “Hmm. I suppose it would be better than not being magical. Though if you want to get technical, it is magical now since you improved its durability. But some kind of active effect could be beneficial. Do you have any ideas?”

“Well,” Xander drummed his fingers against his head in thought. “I could make it just hit harder when you swing it – that might take some getting used to though… maybe not the best the night before a potential fight. Hmm… what else, what else. I could make it catch fire when you hit something, or electrocute things, or explode on impact – actually, that might damage the mace, scratch that – let’s see, I could add the same corrosion runes that are on my mace. You haven’t seen it in action though. It’s a little gruesome to be honest if you, uh, hit… flesh.”

Valteria scrunched her nose slightly in disgust. “Maybe not that, then. I do like the idea of electrocuting things. Make them easier to hit for the next swing if they’re all locked up or dazed, right?”

“It does tend to have that effect,” Xander responded.

“Let’s go with that then. And thank you,” Valteria added. “For doing this. I don’t think you really realize how expensive this would be to have done on my own. Let’s just say… it would be prohibitively expensive.”

“Hey, it’s no trouble. I like improving things, and I don’t charge my friends. Or my girlfriend,” he added, giving her arm an affectionate rub.

With the addition of some lightning runes, intelligence runes, and more gathering arrays to the head of Valteria’s hammer, Xander soon had a set up that should deliver a high-powered shock to anything that Valteria hit. He’d based it off the same arrays he’d used on his shocking chain weapon.

Valteria was especially interested in the filling for the runes. “So, you fill the runes with… ruby, right? And that’s because it conducts mana better than being empty?”

“Mmhm!” Xander grunted. “Makes the effect of the rune stronger. “More mana gathered, more lightning delivered, etcetera, etcetera. Like using a more efficient mana conduit in one of your devices, I’d guess. And then I cap it off with a layer of metal so that the ruby is less likely to get chipped out.”

“Makes sense,” Valteria agreed. “It certainly would be more visually appealing if the ruby was left exposed though.”

“I suppose,” Xander said. “But I’m more of a function over form kind of guy. And I feel like it might give you a bit of an element of surprise, too. You go up against a guy with glinting ruby runes all over his weapon, you’re gonna expect it to do something. Versus the runes being much harder to see, you might not notice and assume he just has a non-magical weapon.”

“That’s true,” Valteria admitted.

“I ought to get these back to the team,” Xander said as he gestured to the pile of weapons. “What do you want to do the rest of the day? There’s still a little bit of light left. Any shopping you need to do? Though, they might not have much that you need around here besides maybe food. You still got plenty of food, right?”

“Oh yes, I’m still well stocked. After all, we planned for a three-week trip and it only took half that,” Valteria reminded him. “Maybe we can… snuggle? I do like snuggling,” Valteria said hopefully.

“Of course we can snuggle, silly. You think I’d ever pass up the opportunity to snuggle up to you?” Xander said affectionately.

Valteria wiggled happily. “Well go get those new and improved weapons delivered, so you can do that!”

The next morning came soon enough, ushered in once again by Frazay, antsy as ever to be on the move. Xander wondered how the woman always managed to wake up so early. He rolled out of bed at the sound of knocking and Frazay’s voice calling out. Getting up in the mornings was significantly easier when one didn’t actually sleep. Valteria, however, was less happy to get up, grumbling and pulling the sheets back around her body.

“We’re up, we’re up,” Xander called out to Frazay, who ceased her knocking and calling.

“Urgh, no I’m not,” Valteria mumbled.

“Come on, it’s time to get up,” Xander said softly, rubbing her shoulder.

“Ughhh but I don’t want to,” Valteria complained. “I want you to get back in bed instead, can we do that?”

“No can do,” Xander replied. “We gotta hike to that village today.”

“Fine,” Valteria pouted, slowly rolling her own way out of bed. “Do you… think it really come to a fight?” She asked, a slight edge to her voice betraying her nervousness.

“I’m not sure,” Xander told her. “I think there’s a good chance we can get by without one, now that we know Antellina wasn’t kidnapped – hopefully we can reason our way in by telling them we’re not here to steal her away from her lover. But,” he added, “we’re prepared for one if something does happen.”

Xander and Valteria met with the rest of the team downstairs. Atrax slowly trudged his way towards the table the rest of them sat at.

“Frazay, your definition of ‘morning,’ fits my definition of ‘night.’ Why are we up so early,” Atrax groaned.

“Because,” Frazay responded, pointing the fork she was using to eat breakfast with at her detractor, “It’s most of a day’s walk to the village we’re going to, and I want to have plenty of light left when we get there.”

Atrax grumbled unintelligibly, still unhappy with the hour despite Frazay’s reasoning.

While the rest of the team grumbled, stretched, yawned, and ate, Xander found himself leaning into Valteria’s side as she also ate the food the innkeeper had brought her.

“Armor’s ready to go?” He asked quietly.

“Mmhm,” Valteria responded, taking the time to stop chewing for a moment. She swallowed her food and finished talking. “Everything should be ready and my bag is packed for a few days’ worth of travel.”

“Good,” Xander replied. He leaned a little harder against Valteria for a moment and said, “I’m sure you’ll do fine today.”

“Thanks,” Valteria replied softly, in the kind of tone that one uses when they aren’t sure that they believe what they’re being told.

Xander offered a supportive squeeze of her thigh and let her get back to eating. The rest of the team was finishing up their food as well, and it was not long until Graffus pushed back his plate and stretched one final time.

“We’re all ready?” Graffus asked, looking around at the team.

“I think so,” Xander replied, noting that everyone seemed done eating.

“S’pose we should get going then,” Frazay commented.

The mercenary band started their journey in the early morning light, dawn just beginning to creep over the horizon. Everything seemed peaceful in the early morning, Xander thought. He hoped it would stay that way. He had no interest in fighting a small village of werewolves if he didn’t have to. The clerk at the guild had helpfully told them that there were somewhere around fifty people – ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/daecrist on 2025-07-01 19:46:53+00:00.

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I tried to overcome the nerves that were threatening to twist my gut into a pretzel shape. I mean, my gut was already twisted into all kinds of pretzel shapes, but you know what I mean.

She could sense everything I felt through the link, and right now she probably could feel that I was feeling just a touch nervous.

Nervous wasn't good. Nervous might tip her off that I had ulterior motives. I was just glad that so far it seemed like the link didn't give us the ability to read each other's minds, for all that when we were sparring I could get a good sense of exactly what she was going to do before she did it.

"You want to hold a ball?” she asked.

“A party,” I corrected, trying to look ignorant of this custom. I didn’t want to look like I knew too much about livisk social gatherings. Like I’d been asking around. “I guess a ball is what I'm thinking of. At least when I think of nobility having a party, I think of a ball. It's one of those things that's baked into our fairy tales."

A lot of those stories had balls. From Cinderella to the ancient tale of metal burning wizards who overthrew an empire, but I figured I wasn't going to go into obscure Earth legends with her. For all that they’d been retold time and again.

"Ah, so you mean a Grand Gathering?" she said.

The word sounded slightly odd as she said it. It was one of those things where I could get the gist of the translation, but it was also clear it was one of those words that had a meaning all its own in livisk that I wasn't quite picking up on because I was thinking of it in Terran Standard terms.

Though the more time I spent around Varis, the more I found myself thinking in livisk rather than in Terran Standard, or even Standard Galactic.

That was vaguely worrying.

"A Grand Gathering, yeah," I said. "That sounds like a great idea. You have a bunch of nobility come over to your place and have a big party where you schmooze with them. Is that what you're talking about?"

"Exactly," she said, hitting me with a smile. I also felt like there was something going on there. There was a dangerous sense I suddenly got through the link.

I wasn't sure if that dangerous sense was because this was an inherently dangerous thing for us to do. Having a bunch of nobility coming over to her tower to schmooze seemed like the kind of thing that invited all kinds of trouble. I wondered if it was far more dangerous than I'd imagined when I thought up this plan. Which suddenly didn't seem quite as clever as it had when I came up with it.

I really should’ve spent more time asking Arvie about this and double checking that it was even a good idea, but I'd simply inquired if it was a thing and he’d confirmed it.

"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," she said, her face splitting into a wide grin. "And the best part is if we announce a Grand Gathering then the empress is going to have to call off her attacks on us until the Grand Gathering has happened. You're a genius, Bill."

Her face was beaming. There was happiness coursing through the link as well. It seemed like I'd just done something terribly clever without realizing I'd done something terribly clever.

"Of course," I said. "We want to get the empress off our back, don't we?"

"That would be wonderful," she said, still smiling and shaking her head. "Have you been talking to Arvie about this? Is that what you've been doing in, in that VIP room?"

"Um, yes? I said.

Was that the entire truth? Definitely not. Was it the truth from a certain point of view? Definitely.

Could telling her the truth from a certain point of view get my ass in a sling if she realized I was telling her the truth from a certain point of view? Most definitely. Was I going to work to make sure she didn't find out I was only telling her the truth from a certain point of view?

Also yes. Mostly because I didn't want to get in an argument with my girlfriend. Though there was the whole potential political fallout thing to consider.

"This is amazing," she said, chuckling and shaking her head. "You've been spending all that time sequestered away with Arvie. I wondered what you were doing when he was split off a shard. I thought you might be working on something that would get me in trouble."

"I'm always working on something that’ll get you in trouble," I said, grinning and figuring it would be best to take refuge in audacity. “Working on overthrowing the empress and all that.”

She threw her head back and let out a laugh. Meanwhile, there was another fighter moving in and trying to fire on us. The shielding let out a low-grade thrum that filled the restaurant.

"Look at the light show, Mommy," the little girl said, clapping and squealing with delight. She had no idea there was a deadly dance going on just on the other side of those shields.

I envied her that.

Finally, Varis stopped laughing.”

"You really do need to be careful about saying things like that.”

“Why?” I asked. "Is the empress going to try and kill me or something?"

I turned to look out the massive window just in time to see one of Varis's fighters blow it out of the skies with a spectacular explosion. I turned back to her. We both looked at one another for the space of a breath, and then we both burst into laughter all over again.

"Good point," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "But you do realize, of course, that if we're going to have a Grand Gathering then you're going to have to learn how to dance."

I blinked. Okay. I really should have spent more time talking with Arvie about this shit and figuring out exactly what went into having a gathering of the nobility.

"Learn how to dance?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "But you should be okay with it. We've been sparring long enough that I know you'll be good at it."

"What does sparring have to do with dancing?" I asked, feeling panic rising inside me.

Dealing with an alien monarch who wanted to kill me? That was the kind of thing I could sort of handle. It was the kind of thing I'd been trained for. The idea of somebody trying to kill me was old hat.

Even sparring with somebody was something I was used to. I'd spent plenty of time doing that with the Marines on the Allamaraine, and I'd done a lot of it on Early Warning 72. Mostly because I didn't have time to do much else.

There wasn’t even a lot of paperwork on the Early Warning thanks to its purpose as a mobile barracks for people on their way out.

"Sparring and dancing are closely related," she said, grinning and wagging a finger at me. "And you're good enough at sparring and doing forms that I'm sure you'll be able to transfer those skills laterally."

That panic was really starting to take hold, and there was a sense of amusement coming through the link from Varis. I got the feeling she was enjoying this entirely too much. Enjoying watching me squirm.

That's how I found myself in the sparring room on top of her tower later that day with two livisk I'd never seen before standing there staring between the two of us. I was dressed in a loose-fitting uniform. I was getting a severe look from both of them.

"So this is what I have to work with," the male said, stepping forward and looking me up and down. His inspection said he didn't think what he had to work with was all that great.

"I am Pulastri," he said, his voice a low growl.

It was a stark contrast to the rest of them. He had the body of a dancer, which is to say he looked slim and lithe. At least slim and lithe for a livisk, which meant he still had muscles running all up and down his body. Not quite the same over-the-top look from a livisk warrior, but still a dude who clearly didn’t skip leg day.

And he carried himself with an authority that was intimidating.

"Nice to meet you, Pulastri," I said. "Is that a family name?"

He stared at me. Clearly my humor wasn't working on him. I looked over to Varis and got a roll of the eyes from her.

Okay. Tough crowd, but whatever. I could deal with this.

"I am going to teach you how to comport yourself at a Grand Gathering. You will bring honor upon me, your instructor, and the general who has invited you to the Grand Gathering with her."

"Now, wait just a damn minute," I said. "The Grand Gathering was my idea, not hers."

"And she is the noble in charge of her house, her military, and inviting people to a Grand Gathering at her tower,” he said, slapping his hand against his leg with a report that sounded like an old-fashioned gun with bullets going off. "So you will treat her with the respect she deserves by learning to dance properly."

There was a whip crack to his tone that said things wouldn't go well for yours truly if I didn't bring honor upon Varis and my instructor.

I looked over to the other one. She was stood back a bit from Pulastri. Her chin was lowered, and she was looking away from him.

“What's her deal?" I asked.

She looked up at me, and her cheeks darkened in a blush for a moment. She had short purple hair and the same muscular body I'd come to expect from lady livisk warriors. Then she looked away at a sharp look from Pulastri.

"This is Torens, my assist...

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“A thousand they came, ships armoured and fast,

A military, strong, with purpose steadfast.

From Arcturus they travelled, to aid us, their friends,

To join in the struggle, where hope seemed to end.

  With engines that roared and weapons that blazed,

They answered the call, their spirits unphased.

To the frontlines they charged, hearts bound as one,

Warriors and kin, their mission relentless, now gone.

  The price they paid, a toll too high,

The planet they hailed from, it did die.

In the void of space, their home turned to dust,

Fallen but glorious, their sacrifice just.

  Yet in our hearts, their memory remains,

A flame in the dark, through all of our pains.

The humans who came, so gallant, so true,

Rest now in peace, their mission through.

  In our skies, their souls will forever gleam,

A legacy forged from hope’s purest beam.

The 7th Crusade, their victory, our song,

Their sacrifice lives, though they’ve long been gone.”

*              *              *

High Admiral Xellon stood on the command deck of the GUV Resurgence, a towering flagship that now served as the spearhead of the new campaign. The old memorial poem had been broadcast across all systems in Union space, reaching the outer fringes where scattered resistance still festered. Millions had tuned in – citizens, soldiers, and diplomats alike – each feeling the weight of the words he had spoken. The story of the 7th Crusade was more than just history. It was Union legend. It was doctrine. It was a sacred wound, and a guiding star.

But for Xellon, it was personal.

He turned toward the viewport, hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the swirling void beyond the ship’s transparent shielding. Just beyond the nebula ahead was the border zone. Former Dominion space. Now ruled in fragments by warlords and pirates claiming heritage from a once-glorious regime.

The Dominion.

Even the name tasted like soda ash.

Though the original five species had long since fractured, their legacy endured. The Cruval, the Vezzari, the Yiloth, the Drenik, and the silent Macharii. Five distinct cultures. Five tyrannies united in exploitation. Their inter-galaxy-spanning empire had swept into the Milky Way like a tidal wave of fire, enslaving systems, stripping planets, and erasing civilisations.

Until the Union was formed.

And until Humanity came.

They weren’t like the others. While many species relied on psionics, biotech, or advanced AI collectivism, Humanity had brought with them an uncompromising doctrine: adaptability and sacrifice. Their strategies were unpredictable, their morale unshakable, their mettle unyielding. Even in the face of extinction, they advanced.

And when they saw that the Dominion’s 7th Crusade was preparing to shatter the Union’s central systems, it was humanity who volunteered the first, and only, full-system commitment in the Union’s history, before or since.

No one had expected what followed.

A thousand ships had arrived at the Karron Expanse – where the Dominion fleet had amassed. The humans called it “The Last Stand.” In Union strategy meetings, it was “Operation Breakline.”

In Dominion records, it was "The Butcher’s Trap."

Every ship bore names – some proud and thunderous like Spirit of Liberty, others soft and haunting like Candle for Earth. One-by-one they dove into the fire. Fleets of Dominion Dreadnoughts fell beneath the human onslaught.

But it had come at a price.

A price the humans knew they would pay.

Xellon could still see the footage: a kaleidoscope of plasma, rail fire, and ruptured hulls. Human ships colliding head-on with Dominion cruisers. Boarding parties sealing their own airlocks and detonating from within. The soundless fury of the final moment – the detonation of the Dominion flagship’s core. It was so massive, it lit up the void like a new sun.

Then silence.

Then sorrow.

The Union cheered their victory. Worlds erupted in celebration.

Until Arcturus went silent.

The Dominion had sent their backup fleet, late to the battle, but fueled by vengeance. They struck fast. Precise. Calculated.

Arcturus Prime, the human jewel-world – green continents, blue oceans, their capital of glass towers and rivers – was reduced to floating wreckage. Every colony station, every moonbase, every outpost. Gone. Reduced to rubble floating amongst the asteroid belts.

And the Union had arrived…too late.

*              *              *

The command deck door hissed open behind Xellon. Vice Admiral Yerin stepped forward. One of the younger ones. Drenik-blooded but loyal to the Union. She saluted sharply.

“High Admiral. The fleet is in position. Awaiting your orders.”

Xellon nodded once. “And the volunteers?”

“Every world sent their best,” she said, eyes flicking toward the glowing starmap. “Thirty thousand vessels. Six hundred thousand fighters. Seventeen million ground troops.”

“And the remembrance protocols?”

“All ships bear the seal, sir. Every pilot and marine is required to recite the Arcturus Vow before engagement.”

Xellon took a deep breath.

The Arcturus Vow. Penned in the days after the fall. Required of all who took up arms. It was simple, and it read:

I fight not for glory, not for conquest,

But for those who gave all they had to give.

I fight to honour the fallen,

So that we may never forget their names,

Nor the fire that bought us freedom.

Even children knew it by heart.

“Then let them remember what unity forged,” Xellon said. “Let them remember what humanity bought us with their blood.”

He turned to the announcement channel.

 “All Fleets, commence operation ‘Enduring Freedom’.”

And the war began anew…

*              *              *

The invasion was swift.

The Union fleet struck across five sectors simultaneously. Former Dominion systems – once enslaved – now saw liberation in blue ion trails and roaring engines. Flags of the Union replaced the skull-spires of the warlords. For the first time in over half a century, freedom surged forward.

In the heart of the Crusade, the planet B’revak fell.

It had once been a Dominion frontier breeding world – a vile planet where entire species had been bio-engineered for conquest. Now it bore the symbol of Arcturus: a silver starburst on black, each with twelve human names engraved on its ring.

Names that echoed across the fleet. Soldiers, friends, heroes.

Private Lianne Hart – who boarded a Dominion supercarrier alone with a backpack of explosives.

Commander Rauf Patel – who ordered his crew to abandon ship while he remained behind to pilot the Spearhead into the enemy mothership.

Doctor Helena Royce – a medic who refused evacuation to tend to wounded Drenik marines until her field hospital was atomized.

Captain Saul Reiner – who led the final orbital descent on Arcturus Prime, buying precious hours before the defense grid fell.

President Sam Mitchell – who lead humanity in this perilous time of war.

Each name was carved into war memorials on newly liberated worlds.

But not all humans were gone.

*              *              *

The discovery was accidental.

A recon vessel scanning the fringes of the Arcturus Nebula picked up a faint signal. A repeating SOS, encrypted in an old human military code.

Inside a forgotten asteroid base – shielded and powered by geothermal vents – was a cryogenic vault.

Seventeen survivors.

Mostly children.

The last vestige of Arcturus.

Xellon himself led the recovery team. As the cryo-units were thawed, and the children slowly revived, doctors noted something peculiar.

They weren’t just survivors.

They were trained.

Each child had been implanted with neural enhancement chips. Taught via dream-education. Polyglots. Strategists. Engineers. Fighters.

One child, a girl named Asha Reiner – direct descendant of Captain Saul Reiner and former close friend to the admiral – asked Xellon a question that would ripple across Union high command:

“Are we needed again?”

*              *              *

Fifty years after humanity vanished from the stars, their legacy had not ended.

It had evolved.

The “Arcturus Initiative” was born. The seventeen survivors became founders of a new program – a Union-wide training academy based on human doctrines: sacrifice, tactics, survival, ingenuity.

Species who once distrusted each other began training side by side.

Instructors taught human history alongside galactic affairs. The stories of Earth's wars, Earth's peace treaties, Earth's fallen cities and unyielding rise. How a species with no natural psionics, weak gravity-tolerance, and fragile physiology had still managed to turn the tide of a galaxy-wide war.

The children of Arcturus, now young adults, were not only teachers.

They were leaders.

*              *              *

As the campaign entered its second year, Dominion resistance fractured entirely.

But amid the ruins, rumours stirred.

That a Macharii arch-lord – one of the original five species – had disappeared before the Dominion fell. That he was gathering remnants. That he had learned from humanity too.

Adaptation.

Sacrifice.

And vengeance.

The war was not over. Not yet.

But the Union was no longer the fractured coalition it had once been.

Now, it was a united force built on the example of a fallen species.

A thousand ships had gone. But in their wake, millions now rose.

*              *              *

On the anniversary of Arcturus’s fall, Xellon stood on...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Douglasjm on 2025-07-01 18:00:21+00:00.

Synopsis:

Carlos was an ordinary software engineer on Earth, up until he died and found himself in a fantasy world of dungeons, magic, and adventure. This new world offers many fascinating possibilities, but it's unfortunate that the skills he spent much of his life developing will be useless because they don't have computers.

Wait, why does this spell incantation read like a computer program's source code? Magic is programming?

<< First | Characters | < Previous | Next > (RR) or Next > (Patreon)

Kindar breathed deeply, acutely aware of the wolf-like monsters spreading out to flank him on either side. He raised his sword and held his shield ready. Against this many, he wouldn't be able to focus on any one of them for long, and ignoring an opponent was inviting that opponent to strike him. That lesson had been driven into him mercilessly over the last several days, with the strangely cooperative dungeon spawning an endless succession of sparring opponents that didn't hold back. Unlike my friends back home. He ground his teeth in anger at the fresh memory of when he'd finally realized the real reason behind why he had won every bout in Erlen.

A flash of movement caught him off guard in the momentary distraction, and he hastily jerked his shield into position to block the low lunge of the left-most monster's teeth. The attack scraped along his shield, and he almost failed to react in time as the other monsters joined the assault. He frantically swiped his sword to the right and jumped backwards. Two claws glanced off of his armored shins, but his last-second evasive movement prevented them from finding any real purchase, and the fifth monster on the right found its leap ended, having impaled itself on his sword.

Kindar staggered momentarily, but pushed back hard, and then one hard jerk of his sword sufficed to cut the monster the rest of the way apart and free his sword from it. The wolf monster's corpse dissipated into vapor, and he felt a portion of its mana join the river of ambient mana – or aether, as his benefactors insisted on calling it – that was constantly pouring into him. In the back of his mind, he recognized that just earlier this morning that same leaping attack would have knocked him to the ground, his legs too weak to withstand it without his new leg-strengthening soul structure, but he resolutely focused on his four remaining opponents.

He did a quick flourish with his sword and snapped back into his practiced stance, trying to give the impression that everything he'd just done was effortless and fully intentional. He focused on that idea of effortless control, projecting more confidence in his superiority than he actually felt as he locked his eyes with those of his next target, the center-right of the four. He kept his shield oriented towards the one on the far left and watched with his peripheral vision for any sudden moves from the other two flankers, but they were secondary concerns. He kept his focus on a battle of wills with the wolf he was facing, engaging the full force of his second Tier 7 unified soul structure to intimidate it and take its power.

The monster growled at him, and Kindar took a sudden step forward. The monster flinched, and with that, Kindar knew he'd finally won. The wolf-like creature sagged slightly and whined in confused distress, while Kindar felt a surge of extra strength and speed filling his body. He darted forward, faster than ever before, but turned his sword at the last moment to strike instead at the right-most wolf. He caught the monster mid-lunge with its mouth wide open to bite him. Its jaws closed around the steel blade of his sword, and with a powerful burst of effort he sliced its neck and head open from the inside. He followed up with a seemingly casual chop that severed the head of the one he'd intimidated, and suddenly his opponents were down to just two. Those last two fell mere moments later, barely even able to fight with their morale broken and strength taken.

Kindar stayed alert, even with his last opponent slain, and even returned to his stance, sword and shield ready for more. You may have tricked me with a fake end to the spar before, but I won't fall for that again. He looked around for new threats for several more seconds, making sure to also stay light on his feet in case of a surprise from below, until finally Major Ordens called out from the side of the sparring circle.

"Rest!" The junior royal guard walked up to Kindar and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good work. That was much better than yesterday."

Kindar bowed. "My instructors gave good advice."

Ordens nodded and pushed him to straighten. "On your new soul structures, or how to fight?"

"Both." Kindar hesitated, then shook his head and sighed. "I saw no point in using a shield before because I had never been meaningfully hit through my armor by my sparring partners. I suspect now that they were holding back in order to flatter me and gain my favor."

"Very likely." Ordens held out a water bottle, and Kindar took it and drank deeply before handing it back. "That is something that everyone with power needs to be wary of, and with who your father is, you were born into power beyond what most commoners ever dream of."

"Hmm." Kindar settled heavily onto the ground. "My father… He seemed to dislike some of my friends, and I never understood why. Maybe this is the reason?"

Ordens shrugged. "Perhaps." She turned and walked back out of the circle.

Before Ordens had even taken five steps, a blunted arrow suddenly flew out of nowhere and hit the side of Kindar's neck. He yelped in surprise and cried out as he jumped to his feet. "What was that!?"

Ordens didn't even turn to look as she answered over her shoulder. "Real enemies won't give you warning and won't wait for you to be ready. You need to learn to be ready to react and defend yourself at any time that an attack might come."

The statement resonated with something deep within him, and Kindar realized after a moment that it was his soul structure for skill at swordsmanship, thrumming in agreement. Huh, that's new. I made that soul structure long before I came here, but it's never reacted that way before. It gave me an intuitive sense for how to properly execute the forms I learned, but this… It feels like it just recognized a whole new *principle and incorporated it. Is this an improvement of it for having stronger mana? I'm up to Level 22 now, and I'll be 23 by nightfall. It's absurd how fast I'm advancing, between the natural advantages of nobility, the strangely helpful dungeon, and the soul structures for making new soul structures and actively absorbing ambient mana without concentrati– Whoa!*

Kindar's internal reflection was interrupted by another arrow flying at him. He spotted the hint of motion in the corner of his eye and dodged just barely in time. "Right. Point taken, Major Ordens." He turned to look at where the arrow had come from and readied himself for another fight.

___

Late in the evening, two and a half days since they'd moved to their current campsite, Trinlen joined Carlos and Amber in their shared luxury tent. "What's this about, Boss? Remembered your poor neglected teacher and want an extra late-night lesson to make up for it?"

Carlos laughed. "Don't pretend you're suffering here, Trinlen. And besides, we've been learning from you every day; Felton only gets half of our time." He shook his head and smirked. "Actually, while I did call you here for a lesson, this time it's for me to teach you. It occurred to me that I never got around to explaining my insights on your Find Path spell."

"Oh? You had a rather poor opinion of it, as I recall. Have you made a functioning improvement of it?"

Carlos's smirk grew into a wide grin. "Yup. Shall we start with a demonstration? I had Purple make a maze for us. The goal location to find a path to is 3000 feet due east of here."

"Alright. I'm ready." Trinlen gathered his mana and readied himself to trigger the spell, then arched an eyebrow at Carlos, who seemed to be just sitting back and relaxing. Carlos just waved a hand at him and kept grinning.

Finally, Amber shook her head and spoke up to break the impasse. "Honestly, it's like watching a pair of boys trying to one-up each other. Go ahead and cast, Trinlen. Carlos is so confident in his version that he's giving you a head start."

Trinlen shrugged and, rather than casting the Find Path spell from scratch, activated an instance of it that he'd prepared in advance. The spell's scanning focus sped out of the tent's door flap and into the distance much faster than the last time he'd cast it, as expected with how many times more compressed and potent his mana was now. It quickly hit a barrier and started threading its way through Purple's maze. Naturally, it hit a dead end fairly early, and Trinlen watched with his mana sense as it probed the bounds of the dead end and backtracked until it found another branch.

After a full minute, Carlos's spell finally joined...

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___________

Hurdop Prime, Home of Kifab

The household was stirring slowly - Kifab still hadn't fully acclimated from a social perspective, but Eterina more than made up for the awkward moments when he spoke out of turn or made a gesture out of habit that was innocuous at his former manse but was considered tantamount to an open questioning of the circumstances of the listener's parentage here.

It was quieter than usual as Kifab came down to breakfast. He frowned as he looked around for Jojorn, feeling an uncomfortable absence. He looked at his personal tablet, slowly manipulating it to see a string of messages from the rest of the Emissaries - the verbiage was different but the content was the same. Surprise, concern, and confusion over their charges having received a message and promptly leaving for the next job bound for Vilantia. From the scent it was important, but they were non-specific as to what they were doing and why.

His thoughts consumed him such that he didn't note Eterina's entrance until she embraced him from behind, causing him to start and upset his tea. He quickly moved away, looking concerned as he grabbed a dishrag to wipe the mess - yet another change that he was adapting to. While Hurdop servants were still servants, there was some expectation that a lord should be at least minimally capable of clearing their own spills and sundry messes.

"Eter...apologies. My fellow emissaries are having a moment of grave concern."

There was a casual smile in return. "They are? This is pleasing in a way." The lady's hand rested on her stomach that was just starting to swell.

"Well, yes - it appears that the Youthfleet has made a decision of some sort."

There was a non-committal noise. "Mmm. They are doing something they feel important, and they feared you and your fellow emissaries would intervene."

Kifab frowned. "They are children. They should not be..." he caught himself and sighed. "I know they would not do this without reason, but what are good and sound reasons to them may not be so reasonable. I fear for them."

Eterina leaned in and nuzzled Kifab's shoulder gently. "And that is why you are a better Lord than you allow yourself to be. They take on an adult's burden so that their children don't have to."

"I don't suppose you have insight into the burden they are currently taking on?"

There was a sly smile. "What do you think? We received a message that your friend would be in-system later this week after a visit to Vilantia, and then there was a followup message from your friend's daughter - who is from Hurdop, and is not travelling with him. And now the Youthfleet have left with minimal notice. Something is happening on Vilantia that seems to require their immediate presence."

Kifab mulled this over for a moment before frowning. "The possibilities are many and I do not think them good."

"This is where you have to have some measure of faith." Eterina nuzzled at his ear delicately.

Kifab felt his tension easing. "I hope they will send a message when they are safe. For the moment, I need to quell the anxiety of my fellows."

___________

Vilantia, Throne City, Ministry of Culture

Gryzzk was not pleased at the current events, but after a moment he realized he really had nobody to blame but himself for his current predicament. He'd come in rather theatrically, told Hoban to ignore the rules, and strode into the ministry as if the building was personally offensive. During all that time he'd been recorded, with those recordings making a wildfire's advance through the Localgrid - of course the press would react.

O'Brien cleared her throat. "Any chance your gods would bless us with a side passage out of here?"

"Not that I'm aware of. In hindsight, I should have requested Hoban loiter and meet us at the minister's shuttle pad."

"I'll remind you next time you bring me along to assault a ministry building. For now, the piper wants his creds." O'Brien fell into step behind Gryzzk as he pulled the door open.

There was instant chaos as every microphone in the city was shoved into his face to capture his voice and scent while a dozen questions were thrown at him. During this melee O'Brien stood calmly behind him, scanning the area as the cacophony died down.

"Freelord, does this have anything to do with the announcement from the Minister of Culture just now that there will be an event at Vilantianic Stadium in three days?"

Gryzzk decided in that moment that combat was preferable to a press conference. "It does."

Another question came in from another direction. "Do you expect to be there?"

"I do." The other option was untenable on several levels. However if he knew the Ministry, there would be several blockades set before he would be allowed his proper place. Even imagining the consequences of failure caused his breath to quicken.

"What exactly is happening?"

"It is a matter of clan and honor. I would ask that you defer questions for the moment - " Gryzzk began to press forward almost apologetically. "I fear I must return to my ship, as myself and the Sergeant Major have duties to attend." He held up a hand. "Please, I understand that this is...not entirely satisfying, but I promise I will speak to you again when events permit."

The last question came in with all the grace of a hurled grenade. "Does this mean that the Ministry of Culture will be formally recognizing you as a Lord?"

That one sentence hit harder than a Greatlord's challenge glove. Gryzzk had to pause for a moment to recover his thoughts and speech. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask Minister Larine that question. I cannot claim to know or speak for the Ministry." There was a slight smile as he pressed through, the crowd parting more as O'Brien followed behind waving away the less earnest and growling curses and shaking her cane at the more earnest members of the press. It was a job, but they eventually made it to the ministry carriage stand.

The whole situation was overwhelming him to the point that he didn't even know where he wanted to go - part of him said he wanted to go to the Grand Warrior, but he wasn't dressed for such a thing. Finally he requested the driver to go the spaceport, and then tapped his rank for a channel to Rosie.

"Hole-ey fuck that was funnier than a zamboni on fire, Freelord."

"Your confidence is noted, Rosie. Who's left on the ship?"

"Hoban, Miroka, Patty, the Cottles, Kiole, and Gro'zel. I played a recording of the Sergeant Major's safety briefing and dismissed the rest of the company. The ones I just mentioned have elected to remain aboard for various reasons."

Gryzzk frowned. "I will require a pilot shortly."

"I'll tell Miroka. Hey did you know that Moncilat like to use their claws when they smash?"

"Why am I being burdened with this knowledge, Rosie?" His voice and scent became wary of the incoming fact he could have remained pleasantly ignorant of for the rest of his days.

"Wellll....Hoban was warned. But he was thinking other things when she said 'bring protection' and now Doc Cottle's got Hoban in medbay while Other Doc Cottle is in Miroka's quarters lecturing the poor lady. I'll send Miroka your way shortly, Hoban's gonna be out of commission for a couple hours and she needs a break."

Gryzzk looked around. "Sooner would be preferred. I may have been responsible for a ruckus."

"Could you describe the ruckus sir?" Rosie seemed amused.

"I ah, struck a Greatlord three times and knocked out two of his teeth." Gryzzk hurriedly added, "In my defense, I forgot to bring a proper glove for the occasion."

"That's it, we're bringing hockey to Vilantia."

Gryzzk looked around nervously. "I think we have brought enough to Vilantia for one day. And ahm, please hurry. I should very much like to dodge the press. We were not exactly...secretive."

There was silence for a moment. "Miroka is boarding a shuttle. We are cleared for pad ninety-four."

O'Brien nodded grimly, leaning on the cane a touch. "Alright, let's get our asses moving before the gods-damned press figures out where we fucked off to."

Gryzzk nodded and the two made their way toward the landing pad, which was distant and blissfully free of anyone with a microphone. The pair sat, breathing heavily and keeping their eyes in motion.

It took all of a minute before Gryzzk caught a vague scent. "Oh...brace yourself, sergeant major." O'Brien looked around, her cane and posture immediately shifting to a defensive pose.

The figure that emerged from behind a crate was slim and quite familiar to Gryzzk - though they'd never met face to face. Lodora of the Vilantian Daily Planet approached cautiously with her hands visible and fur only slightly askew due to her hiding among a few crates. She wasn't accompanied by a camera operator, so this was at least an informal greeting. She nosed forward slightly before retreating, as if uncertain what reaction her presence would elicit.

"Apologies Freelord, sergeant. Minister Aa'Criar sends her regards and wishes for your health. She also requested you call ahead prior to visiting again so she could make time for you. Do you have plans for this afternoon?"

"My original intent was to take my wife and daughter to Victory Park, and then after m...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Engletroll on 2025-07-01 14:56:58+00:00.

Project Dirt book 1 . (Amazon book ) / Planet Dirt book 2 (Amazon Book 2) / Patreon

Previously./.

“Why aren't we attacking them now?” Inta-Co asked as he looked at the screen. It was a media update from Dirt, showing celebration and parties all over the system.

The captain looked at his fifth in command and grinned. “You don’t know? Well, that’s why your ships always got caught.”

“I don’t follow. Why does your hesitation have anything to do with my failures?”

“Because you see an opportunity while I see a trap. They know they are vulnerable now. So there is extra protection out. There are hyper-alert soldiers who make sure they are safe. Besides, this celebration is mostly for the younger. We are waiting for the one for the grown-ups. The one when they are drunk.” He said, and the bridge was listing as if trying to learn something from the newly crowned king of the pirates.

“Oh, so we attack when they are all drunk?” another asked, and Jargy shook his head. “No, the same system is in place, and all their soldiers have those sober-up pills. Besides, we all know it's stupid to attack us during a celebration. We might be drunk, but we are more willing to fight to the death. No we do as the law does with us. We wait until the hangovers and tiredness set in, when they think they are safe. Yes, there will be guards, but they will be tired at the end of their shifts and tired. “

“So we let them wear each other out?”

“Yes, and we've got some saboteurs on the planet already. Kun-Nar sent down some followers who will die for the cause.” He walked over to the table and changed it to a map of Dirt.

The latest loot from the Mugga raid is going to be dropped in these cities and let loose.  That’s 30 000 Mugga combat droids with pre-programmed instructions.  That's why you all needed those implants. They will attack anybody without them.” He looked at the map and smirked. A few more days to iron out the few kinks and make the plan foolproof. He had to rerun the simulations multiple times to ensure that he had a counter for everything.

The bridge was quiet as they listened. Captain Jargy was better than his father, and it had been a blessing in disguise when the father died. He actually predicted how they could fail and devised strategies to counter it. Nobody would admit it, but that prison time had changed him. Apparently, he had started to read there.

Galy-Nur called him up with some good news. Another fleet was going to join them; he now had 17 dreadnoughts, 86 frigates, and 12 hangar ships, besides the hundreds of smaller crafts. However, the best part was that this new fleet was not made up of pirates, but mercenaries who saw the alliance between the Haran and Tufons as detrimental to their business.  Jargy grinned to himself. He likes this type of mercs. Kun-nar's speech was doing wonders for them, it got even better when the Haran crown princess and Tufon's king married. Half the mercs thought their jobs were lost, and many of them had joined them. It was going to be a small invasion force. But the best of all was that Adam and his ilk knew nothing about it.

On Dirt, Adam was lost in thought as Jork dropped by.

“Got a minute?”

“Yes, of course. What can I help you with?” Adam adjusted himself in the chair and turned his full attention to his friend, who sat down, took out a pad, and opened a file, then sent it to his desk.

“As you can see, some of the others are ready to perform the test, and the humans are close to finishing their end of the tunnel, and we have made reinforcements in these sectors. Your friend Harold has really made this easier. The team he put together is quite excellent.”

“Yeah, but it means Ares gets a part of Bifrost.”

“Part of doing business, as you keep saying. Besides, how bad can they be?”

Adam just looked at him, and he got it.

“Anyway, I ran a test run near Trellhuim, Project skip is ready, just in case we need them.”

“I will let them know, hopefully I’m just paranoid. What about the mech suits?”

Jork chuckled. “First Generation is already in production. Oh, and I tried to get in touch with Sig-San; the fifth-generation skin suite is ready now. He has been on my ass since the incident.”

“Understandably, it cost him fifteen operatives.”

“Tell him to contact me when he comes around. I’m tired of hunting him down. He is too slippery.”

Adam nodded, and Jork got a message that made him smile. “Miker says hi and don’t be angry.” He got up and looked at the pad as the second message came through, then laughed. “Miker had an accident in the art department.”

Adam looked at him confused until Jork showed him the picture from the teacher. A sad picture of Miker covered in blue and red paint, the room behind him was filled with exploded colour cartridges in all different colours. Then both laughed as Jork left to deal with their son.

Adam was still smiling as the next report came in, yet another system had chosen to distance themselves from the Wrangler company, claiming security risks and population discomfort. Those words from Kun-Nar were growing bigger now, it wasn’t just rumours and gossip, it was becoming politics. He had attacked him in ways he really couldn’t defend against. At least the pirate problem will soon be a minor problem from now on. The Human pirate hunters were spread around the galaxy, hunting them down. Forcing them into hiding on the known edges of civilised space.

He would deal with Kun-Nar soon enough, but tonight he had to attend another party. As Ginny had said, the New Year comes around only once a year. She would probably say the same about the other festivals as well. It would be yet another exhausting party, he was going to sleep for a week when all these parties were over.

In the most remote part of the system, six advanced fighters were strategically spread out around what appeared to be the start of a space station. It was just the framework now, with drones flying around in a pattern awaiting further orders.

“Gods this is boring, patrolling the a damn science project while the rest of the system is celebrating,” Dj said over the com.

“We have our orders., Besides, you can join the next one, that’s a whole week if I read the book correctly.” Dora replied, and DJ sighed. 

“Easy for you to say, I’m missing out on some heavy drinking down there. And my girlfriend is partying alone while I’m on radio silence.”

“Which one? I have lost track of who your dating now.” Hima replies laughingly.

“Funny, at least I’m not sleeping with the squad leader,” DJ replied. “Besides, it's Anita, and she is the one. I’m going to marry this one.”

Everybody groaned.

“We have heard this before, so enlighten us human, why is Anita the one?” Alak said, awaiting some description of the perfect size of breasts, or something similar.

“I don’t know, remember Gunia? I had just found out she was cheating, so I was pissed off and ran out. I wanted to beat up somebody, and suddenly I heard a teenage human girl shouting and trying to run away from some Tufons teenage boys who were chasing her. I stepped in between them. I mean, I know they are teenagers, but those boys could probably tear me apart. They stopped when they saw the uniform and started acting tough, as if they were trying to decide whether to gang up on me. Anyway, she called somebody, and her boyfriend showed up. Now, this boyfriend is a Dunshin boy. He ran over to comfort them, then told the boys he would tell Won-Kin about it if they didn’t run away. I later found out that he was the school's gang leader, so the boys scram.”

“Nice story, but what does that have to do with your new girlfriend?” Gark-urk ask.

“I’m getting to it, chill.  It's not like anything is happening out here anyway, so I check on the girl and the boy tells me I’m brave and all that shit. And I’m just laugh and tells him an more an asshole, I just wanted to get out some frustration and that I don’t like bullies. Now here is the strange thing. Before I knew it, I told this kid all about Gunia. His girlfriend is just standing there, smirking as if she knows something is going to happen. Then this bastard of a boy told me that I should go to the library and get my act together. Who knows, I might find love in the history section. His girlfriend laughs at him and grins at me, then they say bye and leave.”

“Okay again? What does that have to do with your new girlfriend?” Hul-Dro replies, and the rest are laughing.

“He is just trying to pull one over us, there is no meaning to the story. He just wants us to think he was a nice guy for saving a kid.” Hima replied.

“No, that's it. About three hours later, I walked past the library in Sudal. I want one of those Buskar hotdogs, you know what it's called again?”

“Ghosta? Damn those are good.” Gark-urk commented.

“Yeah, those. So I’m on my way to get a few, and then I see their library out of the corner of my eyes, and I stop, and then I decide to just for fun go inside, check the historical section.”

“You’re kidding me?” Alak said.

“What?” The other asked.

“Nope, I swear I bump into her, and she drops about ten crystals. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I mean. ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Express-coal on 2025-07-01 13:37:27+00:00.

Chapters 1,2,3,4,5,6

Hey everyone, we're back with the next chapter of I Cast Gun, an Isekai without the fanservice!

The ongoing contest, "Our International Incident" continues! What is that, you ask? And how do you win?

Simple, get enough people to represent you in the analytics that you hold the majority of non-US based viewers. What do you win? For right now, bragging rights, but as always, that's subject to change.

The foreign markets crashed this week, with the British and Canada tying for second with a mere 6% apiece. No one knows what's caused this dip, but speculations continue to rise. We turn it over to Arthur for now, with the weather. How are things out there, Arthur?

Chapter 7:Southcross

The merchant city of Southcross bustled with a kind of controlled chaos that made Westlin feel like a village fair. It was at least ten times the size, and from the sheer noise and motion of the crowds, Arthur estimated twenty times the merchants. 

Built into a natural bay along the South Sea, Southcross thrived at the intersection of dozens of lucrative trade routes. According to his “memory,” the docks moved more cargo in a week than some towns saw in a year.

As Drew collected his payment from the caravan’s sponsor, he turned and held out a small pouch toward Arthur. 

“You did as much as I did, Arthur. More, really. I’ve never slept so well on an escort run.”

Arthur raised a hand, refusing it. “I can’t take pay for a job I didn’t take.” 

Drew frowned. “But—”

Arthur cut him off with a small shake of his head, then softened it slightly. “Pay me back by helping me find some things I need. Supplies. Maybe paper and ink.”

That got Drew’s curiosity. “You write?”

“Sometimes,” Arthur said. “I prefer to draw.”

Southcross opened around them like a flood. Cobbled streets gave way to tiled promenades. Merchants shouted in a dozen dialects. Brass bells rang from balconies. Somewhere down an alley, a blacksmith hammered rhythm into iron like a war drum.

Drew led the way, still gripping his coin pouch like it might sprout legs and run.

“This place is insane,” he said, nearly laughing. “Westlin was quiet. This is… this is a whole different world.”

Arthur didn’t answer. His gaze swept rooftops, alley mouths, the subtle glint of knives on belts. He watched how people walked—quickly, eyes down, unless they were selling something. Watched how guards stood—comfortable near the docks, but tenser near the inland gates. He noted uniforms, accents, hand signals passed between couriers and hawkers.

Mixed population. High traffic zone. Smells like fish and coin. Expensive swords, cheap armor. More danger in what’s not being said.

Drew stopped at a food stall, admiring the skewered meat turning over hot coals. “Smells incredible. You want one?”

Arthur shook his head. “Later.”

Drew shrugged and bought two, handing one to Arthur anyway.

Arthur took it without comment.

As they moved on, Arthur clocked a man approaching—fingers twitching, shoulder angled. The bump would come hard, the touch soft. A professional.

Arthur met his eyes. 

One look. Flat. Final. 

Don’t.

The man peeled away, turning right to seek easier prey.

Arthur sighed. The Beretta 71 in his waistband would go unused again.

Good.

“There’s a scribe shop ahead!” Drew said, pointing at a swinging sign marked with a quill crossed over a rolled scroll.

Arthur nodded. “Lead on.”

They stepped out of the scribe shop, Arthur tucking a wrapped parcel under one arm—new supplies, good enough for maps and maybe, if time allowed, a sketch or two.

The noise of the city rolled back over them as they hit the street.

Arthur glanced around, then asked, “Where are we staying tonight?”

Drew stopped mid-step.

His face twisted. “Ah… crap.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to book us a room when we got in,” Drew admitted, pressing a hand to his forehead. “First thing you’re supposed to do in a city like this. I just got so excited—”

Arthur started walking again. “Then let’s fix it before night falls.”

Drew hustled to catch up, still muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

Arthur said nothing.

No sense in rubbing it in. The lesson was already doing the work.

The inn wasn’t fancy, but it was clean—thick wooden beams, glazed windows, and the smell of stew drifting from the common room. They paid for two beds in a shared room, plus meals. Ten copper for the night. Five more for food. Simple math.

Arthur made a quick tally.

One skewer, fifteen copper for the night, two or three more days like this, and Drew’s purse is empty.

Drew didn’t seem to notice. He handed over the coins and thanked the innkeeper like it was nothing.

They climbed the narrow stairs and reached their room—simple cots, shuttered windows, and a basin in the corner. No frills. Just rest.

Arthur closed the door behind them.

“Hey,” he said, drawing Drew’s attention. “You want to make more money?”

Drew blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

“Then let’s form a party,” Arthur said. “We can take better contracts. Split the pay. You’ll last longer with someone watching your back.”

Drew’s expression faltered. “Wait… are you sure? You’ve got an A-rank skill. I’ve only got a C-rank. You could join an elite party and make way more coin.”

Arthur shrugged off his cloak and set it on the foot of the bed. “Maybe. But they’d expect explanations.”

He glanced over at Drew. “You don’t.”

Drew smiled, a little uncertain, a little proud. “I guess not.”

Arthur sat down on the edge of the cot, already calculating how to use this next step.

Better pay. Better bait. And now a second pair of eyes.

He nodded once. “We’ll register in the morning.”

Next Chapter

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First | Previous

“Jason,” Vai weakly said as Jason gently strapped her down on her berth within the IMCAS, “are you gonna fight again?”

“Aye,” Jason whispered.

“Are you gonna be okay?” she asked, and Jason sensed deep currents in her simple words.

“Of course,” Jason answered, “I'm a fighter. It's what I do.”

“That's not what I mean.” Vai said. The Long Way was silent around them. Jason realized with a pang that her heart would never beat again. “I mean after.”

“I have friends to help me out of trouble," Jason whispered past a lump in his throat, and Jason saw Vai try to nod, but the IMCAS didn't have enough space open around her face.

“Chief,” Vincent said from the doorway, “we need to get ready.”

“We can't run away, we can't hide, so I gotta fight for you guys,” Jason told her as he stood up, “Because I won't let them get you.”

“I know,” she said, and Jason blinked back tears when he realized that she had no doubts about his victory.

The boy grown-up too-soon found he had nothing to say to such complete trust in him, so he turned about and joined Vincent. A heavy, calloused hand fell on Jason's shoulder. “Did you feel the harpoons hit?”

“Aye,” Jason answered, and anger bubbled up in his voice as he spat, “They have tractor beams but they want us to know they have us on a line like a fish!”

Vincent steered Jason toward the hatch leading down to the engine room and said, “Yeah. Pirates are like that. They want us afraid, panicky, stupid.”

“Well I'm fucking furious!”

“That's not much better, Chief,” Vincent said as they entered the engine room. It was disorienting for Jason to pull himself down the ladder in the absence of The Long Way's artificial gravity, but that was a small thing. Trandrai cleaved to the blast shield covering where the access panel to the reactor used to be. She was weeping. Jason's heart lurched from rage to grief, and in the space between his mind knew that Vincent's words were right. “Feel your anger, acknowledge it, but it is your anger. You are not its man.”

“Aye,” Jason growled, and he took a deep breath. He didn't feel much calmer when he let it out.

Trandrai tore herself from her weeping at the blast shield, and looked up the ladder where Isis-Magdalene hung from the lip of the hatch leading to the galley. “Cadet will not leave the cockpit,” she said softly, “he weeps at...” Trandrai had pushed off of the blast shield, and caught herself on the ladder with three of her hands to reach out to Isis-Magdalene with her lower left hand. A sanguine hand with bony protrusions on her knuckles met a sapphire hand calloused at the fingertips by long hours of tinkering. “He also weeps for her.” Then, Jason saw that tears ran freely from Isis-Magdalene's eyes in a glistening trail of grief-filled droplets. He touched his own face and found it dry. A deep part of him knew that there would be a time for tears. A time for tears would come, later.

Trandrai drew Isis-Magdalene down into the engine room and said, “They killed her.”

“I thought it a passing strange thing that you spoke of her as though she lives-" Isis-Magdalene's voice caught in her throat, and she corrected herself, “lived.”

“Her name will be recorded in the clan rolls, and The Long Way will sail again.” Jason said, and he was surprised to hear his voice was hard. He realized that he had pushed his grief away as Trandrai twisted to look mournfully at him, “I promise." Those two words carried an entire conversation, and his cousin just nodded. Jason pressed the ceiling to twist himself toward Vincent.

Despite the lack of gravity, Vincent had oriented himself to be kneeling before his locked armory. It took a little doing, but Jason managed to maneuver himself to take his place at his uncle's right and kneel as well.

Vincent felt, rather than heard the Chief kneeling beside him. In the same way he felt himself drifting less than an inch above the floor, he felt the boy slowly drifting toward him. His mind was right. His fury was in rein. He made the sign of the cross, then unlocked his armory. “Saint Michael, Master of Battles, pray for an old servant and a child of God,” he prayed as he reached into his armory to draw out his adaptive cammo suit. It's ballistic weave would offer at least a little protection, even if its main function wouldn't be much use here and now. “We sought not this battle, but it has come upon us, and struck at our very heart.” Vincent pulled a load bearing harness out of the armory and passed it to the Chief. He began shrugging it on without question. Vincent nodded as he clad himself in the adaptive cammo suit. “We have done as bidden, the message is sent,” Vincent continued as he pulled a magacc pistol out and passed it to the Chief before he took one for himself. “Yet our labors are not finished. Here are children, precious to Christ and all who revere Him." Vincent pulled out another magacc and passed it to the Chief before he pulled out two revolvers for himself. “Here I and one grown too soon shall do battle for them.” An all too familiar shotgun was in his hands, then in the Chief's hands. Then, Vincent passed the boy two reload blocks for the shotgun, and two for the pistols. “Let our fury be tempered by wisdom, let our vengeance be tempered by justice, let our aim be true and our hand be mighty.” Vincent clipped two grenades and two flashbangs to his suit, and passed two flashbangs to his companion. "Let all things obey His will, and we pray in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.” Vincent held his carbine in his left hand and made the sign of the cross once again.

“And they will call me Oathkeeper, and the only way to escape is to fail.” the Chief whispered under his breath before saying as he too made the sign of the cross, “So be it, amen.” Vincent's heart twisted for the boy, under a legacy he wished to uphold and escape at once, thrust too soon among those men and women that children look up to with stars in their eyes.

The tug of mass secured in his adaptive cammo suit's magnetic holsters tugged at him in that strange way mass in freefall does, and Vincent saw that a change had come over the Chief. He was still angry, still grieved, of course, but it was sharpened, focused. Good, or rather better. There wasn't any good to be seen until they were on the other side of this situation. “Tran,” Vincent snapped, then he tried to make his voice less harsh, “they want us afraid, panicky, stupid. What do afraid, panicky, stupid people forget when their ship is stuck on a line?”

The burgeoning engineer relinquished her friend and said, “Oh Stars!” She pushed herself to the engine room's main console without another word, and the lights dimmed to emergency red while she muttered, “A/C, water heater, kitchen power, don't need sensors at this point, and the battlescreens don't need to keep trying to spin up...”

“We have maybe an hour or two of waiting, unless they're watching and think we just lost power.”

The Long Way's corpse lurched around them and the Chief said, “Aye, looks like that's what they think. To the boarding ramp, Captain?”

“Yes,” Vincent said, and he watched as the Chief pushed off and floated out of the engine room. Vincent idly wondered if the boy had ever played any zero G sports to be so deft when the gravity cut out. But watching Trandrai easily drift from place to place in the engine room brought another explanation to his mind: emergency drills. Vincent drew one more magacc from his armory and pushed off to follow him. However, he took hold of the lip of the hatch leading into the galley to halt himself beside Isis-Magdalene and pressed the handle of his final pistol into her hands. “Don't let yourselves be taken alive,” the old man whispered.

She took it from him with wide, frightened eyes, blinked to free her eyes of fresh tears. “I have faith,” she told him seriously, “yet this shall give you clarity. We shall not be taken, Path Seeker.”

Vincent grunted and pushed off to drift to the cockpit. Once he reached the hatch he pulled himself in where Cadet's tears floated around his head like orbiting asteroids. “I was right here,” the boy said upon sight of Vincent, “right here. My wing-claws were on the yoke, there were enemies coming to get us, and I knew. I knew she was alive, that Jason and Tran were right. She was alive, Dad. She was alive.”

“I know.” Cadet fixed a dark eye on Vincent, ruffled his feathers from head to toe, and Vincent saw that the boy understood how he felt. “I need you to be with the girls, they're still alive and so are you.”

“I'm sorry... it's just...”

“We won't forget her,” Vincent said, “there will be time.”

Cadet nodded and started working to extricate himself from his safety webbing. Vincent nodded to himself, that was done.

Jason ran his hands over the old surplus RNI boarding shotgun in another check. This was different. He'd been in fights, and even deadly fights before, and quite recently. However, he could feel in his gut that this was different. He hadn't come under sudden attack out in the open, but his sanctuary had been destroyed. He would counterattack, which wasn't the same as defending against attackers. It amounted to the same thing, he wouldn't let his friends be taken. ...

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