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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KamchatkasRevenge on 2024-11-26 00:24:29+00:00.

Book 7: Last Contact

USFS Kandahar Province - Ready Room

Gol'Shan, Moon of the Planet Primus, Cannidor Corporate Space

"Jotunn company, this is Control. Scramble, I repeat, scramble! Friendlies under attack. Skoll company was out on patrol and is being engaged. Multiple casualties reported. Repeat scramble!"

Captain Stanley 'Pirate' Arnesen leaps to his feet and zips up his flight suit, his text message to his wife Cora instantly forgotten as the battle stations alarm starts to scream throughout the ship. They'd been waiting for this! He grabs his new helmet and races over to the intercom panel on the wall and triggers it.

"Jotunn Six copies. All walkers scramble!" Stanley turns and looks at his team. "Alright people, let's get out there and pull those tanker's tails outta the fire!"

He's first out the door of the ready room, and his other pilots are hot on his heels.

He'd gone from a mech suit platoon commander to the leader of Jotunn company, the Crimson Tear's new combat walkers, mech suits the size of a Carnifex and twice as mean, in just a few short weeks. In that time he'd been pushing his new team to the absolute limit, in simulators and in their suits once they'd been delivered by the manufacturer, and now it was show time!

The massive bipedal war machines are snugly tucked away in the Kandahar Province's main assault bay, which had recently been retrofitted with cradles to support the massive war machines, along with the existing tie down points for other more conventional armored fighting vehicles.

The Admiral had been future proofing aggressively when he'd signed the contract to buy the state of the art assault ship, and with all the new toys added to Marine Battalion Crimson Tear's roster recently, he clearly knew what he was about.

The Khopek pattern combat walker was a premium product from the Cannidor's premier corporate weapons manufacturer, Cannid Solutions. The war machines were touted as fast, durable and beyond versatile, with load outs changeable more or less on the fly so long as you had the weapons, or the parts to readily convert weapons to Khopek mounting points, handy.

In terms of scale, normal power armor for a full grown Cannidor was to the Khopeks as Cindy Bridger in her toy power armor, a now frequent and adorable sight within the passages of the ship were to her mother Jaruna in her power armor.

The standard load out consisted of four massive laser cannons on the arms, a heavy rail cannon over the right shoulder, and a plasma cannon that had a bore a few people could use as a hot tub over the left. For that old fashioned Undaunted flavor, a set of 20mm rotary cannons had been added to the upper chest, around where the clavicle would be on a human. Predominantly for erasing smaller threats like infantry and defending against missile threats. Missile threats like the Undaunted Khopeks carried in a pod on their back in racks of twenty tubes.

They were like nothing Stanley had ever dreamed about, and ever since the Admiral had tapped him to take command, he'd been as giddy as a kid on Christmas. It was almost as exciting as hearing Cora was pregnant.

Almost.

Stanley gives his crew chief a high five as he throws himself into his cockpit, quickly strapping in and hitting the master power. In seconds the war machine comes to life and he feels the tell tale tingle of the machine's computers connecting to his new implants.

::Connecting.::

::Connection established. Reactor online. Weapons online. Sensors online. All systems nominal.::

Stanley's first out of the bay, goosing his throttle to get down the ramp before waiting for the other three walkers in his unit to catch up.

"Jotunn, this is six. Report status."

"Mustang, ready op."

"Banshee, ready op."

"Specter, ready op."

Stanley nods in satisfaction, his three pilots confirming what his telemetry was already telling him, they were combat ready.

"Pirate, ready op. Jotunns, switch to hover mode and move out."

One feature of this particular model of combat walker was powerful anti-grav systems in the feet. With the jump pack on the back and a little careful handling, it allowed a pilot to 'skate' their walker across the ground at incredibly high speed. Only down side? It didn't do well in anything besides relatively gentle terrain, and it drained so much power from the compact axiom reactors the walkers had aboard that they couldn't use their shields. Not ideal for a fight, for this part though? It was perfect.

In moments the four walkers are dashing across the surface of the moon in a loose formation, naturally spreading out to avoid both collisions and the chance of enemy artillery fire.

"Skoll Six, Jotunn Six."

"Skoll Six."

The voice of the Tear's newly arrived armor squadron XO, a Human woman who was an American army veteran who generally went by 'Blaze' when she wasn't going by Captain Jill Kelly, sounds down right exhausted to Stanley’s ear. The normally smiling redhead was clearly neck deep in shit.

"Blaze, we're on route. What's your situation?"

"Pirate, we got hit hard by an enemy drop ship. One of my tracks is immobilized. The regular grunts have taken some wounded and dead. Don't have numbers, haven't heard from the platoon leader in a minute. The power armored infantry however is holding the line. They've got us hemmed in in a little crater. A lot of combat mechs. Not sure about actual vehicles, but the drop ship dropped off plenty of grunts and armored something or another that hauls big fucking plasma cannons around."

There's the sound of weapons fire over the comm net and Jill grunts as the impact throws her around inside her track a little bit.

"Major Hancock’s coming back with his RAT company but they were out doing a long range recon for an assault, hell only knows when they'll get back. I'll be frank, much as it pains me to ask a Jarhead for help, but I need all the help you can give before the bad girls bring up arty and smoke us."

"Copy all, Blaze, we’ll make it to you asap and Doc Hancock can clean up our leftovers. We're maybe... five, that's zero five minutes out."

"Please and thank you Pirate. Hit'em from the West, that seems to be where they've got their heavies."

"Can do."

Stanley switches back to his company net.

"Okay people, here's the situation..."

The briefing takes two minutes of travel.

"Raven to all points. Surveillance drone is live. We're working on some air support."

Stanley grins as his tactical display begins to light up with bright red icons. Using the new system, 'probable enemies' were dark red with shapes to indicate the type of contact. Bright red meant a 'confirmed' contact. Green in two different shades covered friendlies, blue covered allied forces, and yellow was neutrals. Gray was for civilian assets, none of which were anywhere near this particular dust ball at the minute.

Good. Meant they could break out the big boom with little consequences.

"Jotunns, when we hit five minutes out from where Skoll’s hemmed in, we'll use the telemetry from the drone to conduct a long range missile strike. If we get a chance or Skoll asks nicely we’ll hit 'em a second time. Then we'll go weapons free. Mark your targets with your systems, I don't want anyone wasting ammo killing the same enemy twice."

A chorus of acknowledgements come back and Stanley goes back to watching his screens, waiting for possible threats while he works out his firing solution.

The view on the ground was fairly dire, and was more or less as Jill had described. Skoll Six was pinned down in a crater along with a fairly large body of infantry who were using the heavy armored bodies of the Grenadier Heavy Assault Vehicles for cover, as per doctrine.

When the Undaunted had started developing their tanks they'd run into an issue. Power armor was fast, mobile, heavily armed and hard to hit.

There were faster, maneuverable 'small' vehicles, like the squadron’s maneuver element, newly purchased Cannidor rapid assault tanks the Undaunted had named the M1 Piranha, that only had speed on power armored infantry beyond being much cheaper.

Combat walkers on the other hand, while great, were expensive in a whole new order of magnitude even compared to power armor.

So to strike a balance between affordability and useability, namely not having to get every tank crew a very expensive set of implants to merge their minds with their tracks, the Undaunted engineers had done the math and determined that the best thing they could do is go bigger. Much bigger. Not that that had stopped one team from developing a main battle tank equivalent, arguing that power armor couldn't be everywhere, but that certainly wasn't a problem around here.

As a result the Grenadier was a hulking behemoth, hauling an unholy shitload of guns, armor, shields and of course having nice comfortable compartments for a platoon of regular leg infantry to mount up across a four tank company with room left over to have a squad of power armor to embark. At least. The doctrine preferred a squad of power armored infantry to deploy with every two Grenadiers so far. If Stanley's guess was right that number would go up.

You could never have enough dismounts, especially in complex modern combat environments for something that lacked power armor's incredible maneuverability. Turns out the modern Earth truism that only an idiot would operate armor without infantry support was perfectly valid in the wider galaxy. Hell his beaut...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/arclightmagus on 2024-11-25 23:09:44+00:00.

I’d like to say that I think of myself as a storyteller. In truth, it is as close as I can come to a true profession. Otherwise, I’m simply a willing pair of hands, who goes where the work is. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself.

Behold, humanity! A ragtag species living at the edge of galactic society!

I know, I know. How did such a species reach the stars or perhaps are humans so utterly backward that they can only exist at the edge of galactic society?

Well I’ll tell you. Albeit with a bit of license as even though the official histories have recorded some of what happened, so very much has been lost.

My maternal grandparents, an electrical engineer and a librarian, two reasonable professions for their time, Earth Calendar 2031, were young and in love. Well, I say young, but both were out of college and working in their chosen professions, having met via a mutual acquaintance.

Meanwhile, my paternal grandparents hadn’t met yet and were still finishing secondary school in two different countries, which is apparently a subdivision of planetary regions by politicial, social, and economic boundaries. Sometimes also geographical, but given some of the stories I have heard, even that was no barrier.

However, it was in that same year that a Galactic Federation probe came through the system and loudly broadcast at the human race (and anyone else listening) some kind of signal. Apparently, the red tape lauded as being famous for slowing down efforts disappeared under the aegis of such a signal, one that couldn’t be hidden from a single inhabitant (save perhaps those utterly incapable of receiving such signals).

Within weeks, the signal was deciphered. The contents were chilling to everyone who came to know it, and despite official plans to cover it up, it leaked anyway.

***Attention: Resources Detected and to be officially mined. All sapient beings are hereby directed to vacate this region of space. Official mining to commence in .***

So while we could comprehend what was being said, we had no idea as to our timeline. Many tried to call it a mass hoax and urged people and the various politicians of the world to get on with their lives. After all, there were shareholder profits to worry about.

I’m grateful that none of my grandparents listened.

As it turned out, the timing was approximately 5 Earth months. This much was recorded in the official record of the mining of the Sol solar system.

Humanity found out more when the various cargo vessels started showing up and spacesuit-clad aliens began wandering out and either outright kidnapping people or appearing to try to barter for people to come with them.

Not all were successful, but enough were successful and there were enough craft coming and going from Earth, sometimes called Terra, that eventually translators were possible and enough armed responses had happened and ships ‘acquired’ by the governments of the world that the continuing stream of ships was at least more polite in their inquiries.

Through means that I’ll get into later, both sets of my grandparents managed to have negotiated transport off of Terra and to someplace where they at least wouldn’t be slaves.

From what I am told and have seen, they were lucky. The alien who made the deal with them still made out well, but was apparently not interested in slaves. While I can guess why, I won’t bore you with that now.

Anyway, as mentioned, the mining started at the 5 month mark and at the 4 month 15 day mark, the last alien controlled ships took off and none came to replace them.

Those who had set up to sell the various alien species plants, animals, food, drink, entertainment, and more were utterly despondent by the 3rd day. Although, laughably so. They were so concerned with the lack of business and their capital investments in such ventures, they didn’t stop to ask why.

The mining vessel, if you can call it that, was gargantuan, by human standards of the time. Stretching over 10 kilometers long (which is apparently about 341 ulims), they began at Jupiter, making massive detonations in the gas giant and funneling it up to the massive vessel. The hows and whys are massively technical and not why I’m telling this story, but suffice to say it was done.

This visible leaching of the solar system’s primary gas giant was disturbing to the people still on Terra and they watched on. Some, coming to understand the vessel as a miner and recalling the message, began to reach out into the void with various signals from the captured, but largely disabled crafts, calling for others to come and save them, offering various rewards, including slaves taken from their fellow beings, first pick of various cultural artifacts, and material items that were probably lacking any more than their elemental value.

After a week of mining the gas giant, the mining ship split away fragments. These fragments, each a ship unto itself and each over 50 ulims long, moved to each planet or planetoid. The one that arrived over Terra didn’t even pause. As soon as it reached orbit, it fired beams at the planet and well… this is where the story gets strange.

I’ve met a few people who claim to have family who survived or have seen official recordings or similar and the story is never the same.

Some claimed the atmosphere caught fire and the world was burned to a crisp. Others claimed that the beams hit the ocean and boiled it away, cutting into the core, but turning the atmosphere toxic and boiling. Others still have claimed that the beams cut off at the last possible moment and that Terra is still there, with all who stayed behind.

Having read one of what passes for official mining records, the planet known as Terra was cored out, the nickel-iron core being quite a valuable concentration and the nitrogen and CO2 siphoned from what remained of the atmosphere, both being exceptionally common in most sapient species’ breathing supplies. Absolutely no mention is made of what happened to the surface or the people/animals/plants living on it.

Similarly, the Galactic Federation Mining Guild is ‘so very sorry for what happened’ and ‘humans should have made their cradle more clearly indicated’, the latter would have apparently granted some degree of legal protection for the system, but it was too little too late.

And so humanity persists. Largely ragtag; consisting of travelers, slaves, and oddjob folks like myself.

So you might be wondering, where’s the bright point in all this? Where’s the happy ending? Or what’s all this leading up to?

Does humanity have a secret new homeworld or some grandship which will make one?

Laughably, no. Humanity isn’t even self-governing anymore.

We are one of several species that have lost their cradles. Some by disease or natural causes, others mismanagement of their own doing, and others still by the failings of Galactic Federation incompetence. So to say we are alone in this would be a lie. But few species manage more than a generation with the loss of their cradle, without help.

In theory, we had help. In practice, the Galactic Federation couldn’t get out of its own way to even try to render aid.

But we survived anyway.

Those who ended up as slaves were at least subject to the protections afforded them by Galactic Federation for slaves, regardless of being from an unrecognized species.

The rest of us? Well, there’s always dirty jobs that need doing, for better or worse, until they got around to recognizing us as sapient beings who deserved at least some degree of protection under what passes for law.

I perhaps sound bitter. In truth I am, but at the same time, I have never let it dampen my joy as being in a broader galaxy. The stories of my grandparents, living and commuting to offices ulims away, bombarded by propaganda for nationalism, consumerism, and classism, makes Terra sound terrible to someone like me, who has known nothing but galactic society.

This isn’t to say that galactic society is any easy task. But it’s much easier for me to navigate than it was for my parents or my grandparents.

And perhaps that’s part of what made me take up storytelling.

None of the aliens… no, that’s not quite right. None of the other species that I deal with seems to have storytelling.

It’s not that the idea of stories or fables or even lies aren’t comprehended. It’s just that so few of the cultural ideas made the transition when they left their cradles and joined galactic society. They still have some stories of past and there’s always the various boastings of shows of aggression or prowess, but those tend to be on the individual and not in great tellings of their species’ past.

And so I have taken to becoming a storyteller for each of my crews. Learning what tales various species can and will tell me, working alongside them for a shipment or three, and telling the tales of the previous crews.

The slaying of Galagdir, a mighty ocean creature of the Durith homeworld, by an unkind child.

The ascension of Rumoth, a great crafter of sky-ships.

The curse of Timip, a Rethic whose breath was so foul, it could corrode gold.

To name a few.

This isn’t to say that there aren’t others like me, but most are more interested in the true histories or the official records, believing that if it isn’t in the official records, it isn’t worth knowing.

I disagree and given the sheer responses of my various crews, I would wager they do too.

I even had a Captain offer to keep me on simply to ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2024-11-25 22:33:14+00:00.

First

The Buzz on the Spin

“Ladies and Gentlemen! But mostly ladies I’m not going to lie about demographics here, I’m young not delusional.” Hoagie announces, his image projected over every single arena in Sector Two and smiling for everyone to see. “Now there’s going to be an announcement I don’t have full control over the timing of, but don’t worry. It won’t interfere with the fights. And when it happens, I’ll be announcing a special treat! Which means that there’s two pieces of good news coming! So please, enjoy the fight and remember to work up an appetite! All contestants, be they winner or loser, will be allowed to eat their fill at the tournament feast!”

Sector Two reverberates with cheering as the image fades and numerous announcers begin their duty to hype up the fights and keep everything cheering and moving.

“And here she comes.” Hoagie says as he spots his target from a great distance away. Lorelli Spinefin, also known as Yenala Quasar, is walking up with four of her security surrounding her and her second in command on the ship.

Shes an amphibious species which resembles a Merra but with a long tail that helps with swimming. Okay granted a Merra looks like a Tret or Human with a serious ocean theme, but still. The coloration and general bearing was similar enough. He waves her over, if she’s going to show up without any trouble then he’s not going to lift a gift horse in the mouth.

“Remember, friendly until I’m not.” Hoagie reminds his wives and there’s a buzzing confirmation. He then turns towards the amphibian on approach and smiles. “Captain Spinefin! So glad you could turn around. Bit of bad business when a customer forgets something of value.”

“Not at all, the offer of free berth until the business is complete was more than generous enough to make me understand things. You’re in the middle of some kind of tournament?”

“That we are, there’s also a few treats at the end and... it seems that business is moving, care to walk with me for a bit while we talk? The sooner we get everything sorted the sooner you can be back on your way, and I promise your time here won’t cost a single trytite to clear this. I’ll even cover your meals.”

“Very generous, almost suspiciously so...” She says with her eyes narrow. Then she smiles. “But I’m not the suspicious sort. It’s good to know that there’s honest business still being done on this station, I had a bad deal with a few former friends in sector one.”

“Were they former friends before or after the bad deal?”

“After. I thought I might have a friend before the deal but they proved me wrong.”

“That’s life for you sometimes. You just can’t rely on people these days.” He notes before giving her a look. “You know I’ve never actually encountered your species before. What do you and yours call yourselves?”

“Well, I’m what’s generally known as a woman, we’re easily distinguished from men by where the bumps are.” She says hefting her breasts a little and Hoagie’s eyeroll seems to go through his whole body.

“Sorans. We are called Sorans. Unlike the Merra we’re far more comfortable in the water, but we’re not poisonous. We do however have our lovely tails that are easily reinforced with Axiom. Makes them powerful blades with which to rip things apart when we need to.”

“Ah good to know, good to know. So you girls are always armed and ready. Here, have a seat. It’ll be a bit before the tournaments are even close to over so I don’t think anyone will mind if you spend a bit in there while I lay things out, with what’s happened it’s probably a smart idea to be sitting anyways.”

“Oh certainly.” She says sitting down at the offered chair. “Now what is...”

The large chair she sits in suddenly shifts and around her ankles and thighs bands snap shut. She tries to teleport and is blocked, her tail lashes out and the back of the chair near her bottom is revealed to be flimsy material as the main backrest floats on it’s own.

“Comfy?” Hoagie asks as he leans against the top with a smirk. Her security are moving, but mostly in that they’re dodging Ablator bursts and Banger fire.

“What is this about!? What are you doing?!”

“It’s about the whale. But that’s all you’re going to know for now. Your crew is invited to participate in the festivities and in a couple hours I’m going to let everyone knows what’s going on. Meanwhile YOU just sit pretty and don’t do anything stupid.” He says patting her on the head before slipping out of her grip as she grabs at him. She produces a plasma pistol, buit the view of him plucking the shots out of midair with an impudent grin only infuriates her further. The fact tit’s hit with an ablator beam and broken doesn’t help her attitude.

“Come on girls, let’s bring Miss Quasar’s crew into the festivities. After all, this party is because of all of them.”

“Wait a minute! Get back here! I demand an answer! GET BACK HERE!!!” Captain Spinefin screams after him as his wives hustle her protectors and forcibly sign them up to the fights.

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

“... Did he force the entire crew of her ship to participate in a blood sport?”

“He did. The crew got the bruises, but she got the humiliation.”

“Look Miss Eastman, it’s clear that he force fed her a large amount of the whale, so please don’t beat around the bush. We both know what happened. Just say it please. For the record.”

“Oh fine, in summary my son arranged for the poacher crew to get badly beaten in a tournament that he himself took part in and personally gave her chief of security a concussion through happy happenstance, and then after that was said and done he confined the captain to that chair until every scrap of the victory feast was eaten. Which included every portion of the whale minus the portion paid to Hive Sanguine. Anyone could help her clear it away, and to be honest a lot did, not out of sympathy, but because whale meat isn’t something commonly available here.”

“Very good. You may continue... although... is whale meat commonly available?”

“It depends where in the galaxy you are, on this station it’s more of a luxury good? But if you get onto the main Axiom lanes then you can buy just about anything you can imagine on any way station or world next to them. As it stands we don’t have many oceanic worlds near here, and the ones we do have close enough for casual trade don’t have any quick breeding species of whale for proper ranching.”

“Did you have any?”

“I had a plate full. It was very... earthy. Not bad, but not something I’m going to look for unless I have to.” Janet says. “Anyways, back to the story... unless the summary is enough?”

The unseen presence in the room with them sincerely hopes it is not.

“I need all details, I just like having summaries. Please continue.” Observer Wu states and Janet smiles.

“Of course. Now the tournament itself was a simple series of brawls, five at a time in the middle of different arenas. Non-lethal and announced at a rapid clip. But before he entered himself, my Daniel had another announcement...”

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“Ladies and Gentlemen, again more on the angle of ladies due to population... This is Administrator Daniel Eastman. Representative and enforcer of Sector Four! My pockets are funding this tournament and I beg only a few moments of your time! First off! Our guest of honour has arrived!” His image announces before suddenly cutting to Captain Spinefin. “This woman, Captain Lorelli Spinefin or as her actual name is Yenala Quasar, thought it was a great idea to drop off a full grown WHALE in sector one when she couldn’t sell some of her poached prey to a few of our residents. Now I understand being angry as much as anyone, but an animal that size the hell out nowhere caused a lot of damage. Then it died. So that’s what we’re eating, and as payment for the problems she gave us. She’s eating it too. In fact, she’s eating everything we don’t eat. And she’s going nowhere until she does.”

The image of Spinefin shows her struggling even harder now. “Now I’m not sure what giant marine mammal tastes like. But I’m honestly curious. I’ve paid deep and paid well to have it not only butchered but professionally prepared. Every part of the beast is part of this feast. Don’t be afraid to try anything and the only cost of having as much or as little as you like is signing up, and you can still sign up now. Which brings me nicely to the next part! Men of Octarin Spin! I want to do violence! I want to fight! All men are encouraged to sign up! But if you are willing to fight under an extra rule, then you get an additional prize in addition to any prize you win and the default seat at the feast! And that rule ladies and gents, is simple!”

His image then moves rapidly and in a single motion his Hawaiian shirt is off and his bare chest exposed for all to see. “NO SHIRTS! COME AT ME BROS!”

The cheering is so loud it echoes clearly through Sectors One and Three and can be vaguely heard in Sectors Four and Eight.

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“A shirtless brawl?”

“Signups for the event quintupled.”

“And over half the station cheered.”

“They did. Funniest thing ever.”

“So you don’t feel conflicted about your son going around half naked? By galactic standards it’s like a little girl flashing her chest on live television.”

“I...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PepperAntique on 2024-11-25 21:36:15+00:00.

Previous / First

Writer's Note: Hooo boy. Y'all ready to rip some band-aids off?

Enjoy.

Hours after his arrival Joey stood with Veliry as the two of them watched Joel sleep.

The cute little twitches and movements of the child didn't FULLY distract Joey from the way Veliry had her fingers laced with his as she leaned into him.

He was doing everything he could not to cry. He'd done a ton of that today. Everyone had really. But it was hard not to as he looked at his son sleep for the first time in either of their lives. Seven years too late in his opinion. But seven years was still significantly better than never.

She tugged at his arm.

"Come on. Let's let him sleep." She whispered.

They were the only two still awake. Jurl had taken Mela and Tilo to the guest rooms in his mother's house. Amina had been M.I.A. since only a little while after he'd shown up. He wondered at that, and had his suspicions as to the cause. But that would be something to deal with later. He and Veliry had used magic to carry his mother to her room and lay her down. She'd fallen asleep in her chair in the main living room.

Her hand had still been resting on Joey's arm when they'd noticed her snoring lightly. As if she couldn't let him go. Something she and Veliry seemed to have in common.

She led him down the long dark hall.

"James made this place didn't he?" He asked quietly.

She looked at him curiously as they walked. "Yes." She said. "It was destroyed during... well... you know." She said awkwardly. They'd danced around the subject of his death the whole night. Both.... deaths. "Jurl rebuilt it for free. He and a lot of the different building companies did a lot of rebuilding for free after. The King paid for almost all of it. Though, most of the companies didn't charge. Jurl's didn't."

He nodded. Petravians were a lot more giving than Earth companies.

Then he asked the question that had been bugging him since he'd first seen Joel.

Since he'd first learned of him really.

He pulled her to a stop as he looked back at the room they'd left the small boy sleeping in.

He was so small, Joey thought. So small and yet so fiery. He'd definitely gotten his personality from her. How could he not?

"Is he...." He asked as he pointed at his temple. "Does he hav-"

She pulled his hand down and held both of them.

"He's as normal as a little shape changing boy with horns, and parents from two different universes, can be." She said as she looked him in the eyes. "Your mother's been doing checks on all three of them since they were born." She said as she saw him fighting his tears again.

Joey nodded. "Good." He said. "That's good."

As much as Joey had tried to interact with the young boy, Joel seemed oblivious to the importance of their meeting. Kelsey and Xaria were too. He could understand that. He remembered a few times when he'd been their age when he and James had been introduced to important family members. Mela and Tilo at least had seemed to be blown away by his return. He was sure they would help the three youngest Choi's figure it out later. Kids had a way of doing that.

But Joey had been amazed by the young boy. He could see so much of both himself and Veliry in him. And he could change into the shape of almost any animal out there, so long as he remained relatively the same size or smaller. Joey theorized (he couldn't help it) that the transformations were actually the same maturity level for that species as Joel was for humans. Regardless, they all retained the curved ram-like horns that he had in his human form.

It made for a comical effect when he turned into a bird or a frog.

"I know we've all said it about a hundred different times today." She said as they continued walking. "But we've all missed you." She said softly. "I missed you."

He just nodded again. She was right. They'd all said that a lot.

"It was hard." She said softly as they rounded the corner and paused outside of a door. "Joel he... he made it easy. I think... Compared to most kids. Especially once he figured out how to control his beast shapes. But.... IT was still hard doing it by m-"

This time it was Joeys turn to cut her off. But he did it with an embrace instead of words.

Their antlers made it awkward. But they'd figured that out earlier.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. She understood the message.

She wasn't alone anymore. Wasn't a single mother anymore.

When they released the hug they stood awkwardly for a moment.

"So is this my room?" He asked.

She smirked. And she was glad he couldn't see her blush.

"With Jurl and the twins here, all the rooms are taken." She said as she slid the door open. "But I'm not letting you out of my sight Joseph Choi." She said as she pulled him forward. "I don't think any of us are ever again."

She pulled him into the room. And after both of them undressed she also pulled him into the bed inside.

They didn't do anything.

As they lay there they just held each other. And true to her word she never took her eyes off of him, and fell asleep after he had.

She didn't care if nothing else happened she was just glad to have him back.

And Joey slept both comfortably, and easily, for the first time in almost two years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vickers startled a little bit as he woke up, and next to him Atrafar sleepily reached for a sword with an arm that wasn't there anymore, though it was halfhearted.

"Hmmm?" He wondered before his phone buzzed again.

He reached over and took it, and was surprised to see [Maj. Dumbass] on the front.

"Choi?" He asked before licking his lips a few times to get the saliva back in his dry mouth. Then he remembered. "Nah. The princess."

He'd meant to change that contact name for years. But... had just... never managed to.

He sat up on the bed as he picked the phone up from its charger pad.

"Princess?" He asked as he held it up to his ear.

He was assaulted by sobbing cries so loud he had to hold the phone away and blink for a few seconds. He was still half asleep after all, nocturnal or not.

"Mmmmm!" Groaned his wife in agitation.

Vickers got up and walked outside. His feet made the motion almost completely silent despite his massive size. He walked down the hall and into the living room, amazed at how Amina was still going on and on.

His superhuman hearing allowed him to hear all of it despite holding the phone at arms length.

And.... it didn't make any sense.

Carefully, and after hitting the button to lower the volume a few times, he put the phone back next to his head.

"Woah! Woah woah woah!" He said as he tried to get Amina's attention through her upset sobs. "Princess chill for a second stop! Stooooop stooooooooooop.... stopstopstopstop." He commanded. He heard her suck in a ragged breath and wondered at what could get her so worked up. It couldn't be what she'd been struggling to say. That was impossible. "Take a few deep breaths okay. Relax as much as you can, and just.... just... BREATHE." He said while taking a long, exaggerated breath of his own so she could hear it.

He listened for several minutes as she slowly got her breathing under control.

When it finally sounded, somewhat, regular he asked the million dollar question.

"Now what's goin' on princess? Who came back? What's got you so worked up?" He asked, his voice soft around the edges.

He listened for several minutes as she explained something that SHOULDN'T have been possible.

Vickers' eyes widened with each word. And they went even wider when she sent him an image that had been taken from some distance away. The phone she had was old, a couple models old by now. But the image was clear as day. And also impossible.

"It's him." She said from where he was holding his phone. "It's Joseph. H-He's.... He's back!" She cried out. A part of him wondered where she'd gone that she wasn't waking anybody in the house up. But that was unimportant. "He's back and James isn't."

Vickers took a long breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

This had to be killing her.

"Amina." He said gently. "Do you have that number I gave you?" He asked.

She stammered a bit. But replied that she did. He nodded, thankful that she'd held onto it.

"DO... you... have that number?" He asked again, more sternly this time, after hearing her arguments and ignoring them. "Call her." He said. She tried to reply but he cut her off. "Amina. CALL... HER... NOW." He said sternly, allowing no argument. "Call her and tell her what's happening. Listen to her. Me and Atra will be back through the Gate first thing today." He said. "Or at least I will. Now. Were you hiding from him?" He asked. She tried to defend herself. but he knew better. "Goddamit Amina go talk to him. But first, Call the damn therapist. And hey," He said, before looking over to where Atrafar was standing in the doorway listening. "remember to breathe. Vickers out." He said as he hung up the phone.

"What's going on?" His wife asked.

Vickers sat and stared at the phone for a few long seconds as he considered the words he was about to say.

He didn't believe them himself. But the picture was right there on the phone.

He took his own advice and took a deep breath before speaking.

"One of the Choi brothers is back." He said as he looked at her. "Joseph. He's.... He's back s...
***
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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ethenhunt65 on 2024-11-25 19:03:39+00:00.

HFY The Substitute

The magenta sun cast long shadows across Tzzk'rix's hydroponic garden as he tenderly adjusted the nutrient flow to his prize-winning crystal melons. Life on Agricultural Colony P-789 was peaceful, predictable, and most importantly, completely devoid of anything remotely resembling an "adventure."

"Perfect," he chittered to himself, his mandibles clicking in satisfaction as he recorded the day's growth measurements. "Another successful harvest cycle without a single near-death experience."

His communicator buzzed. Again. For the forty-seventh time that morning. He ignored it, just as he had ignored the previous forty-six notifications. The Empire could wait - his melons needed him.

The crystal melons sparkled in the dying light, their faceted surfaces refracting tiny rainbows across his exoskeleton. Nothing like the sweat-inducing horrors of that Australian "vacation" three years ago. His therapist said he was making excellent progress, though he still couldn't look at a coffee cup without flinching[1].

The communicator's buzzing grew more insistent, developing an almost angry undertone. Tzzk'rix adjusted his farming apron and continued pretending he couldn't hear it.

A shadow fell across his garden. A very large, distinctly shuttle-shaped shadow.

"Oh, void take it," he muttered, watching his prized melons crack under the heat of the shuttle's landing thrusters. "Not again."

The shuttle's door hissed open with unnecessary dramatic flair. Commander K'thax emerged, all four arms crossed in what Tzzk'rix recognized as the universal gesture for 'you're in deep trouble, soldier.'

"Shadow Strike Commander Tzzk'rix," K'thax's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Or should I say... Farmer Terry?"

"I was just about to check my messages," Tzzk'rix lied, trying to shield what remained of his crystal melon patch. "Been terribly busy. Very important agricultural duties."

"Forty-seven ignored communications," K'thax's upper right arm twitched. "Including one marked 'Urgent: Fate of Empire at Stake' and another labeled 'Your Mother Wants to Know Why You Haven't Called.'"

Tzzk'rix's antennae drooped. "The melons needed precise attention during their crystallization phase?"

"The High Command requires your... unique expertise." K'thax managed to make 'unique' sound like a terminal disease. "We have a situation on Earth."

The word 'Earth' sent Tzzk'rix's nervous system into overdrive and several scales fell off. His secondary heart started palpitating, and his chromatophores flickered in distress patterns that spelled out 'NO' in seventeen different languages.

"Absolutely not," he backed away, clutching a broken crystal melon like a shield. "I'm retired. Completely retired. Look, I have a garden! And... and... a collection of exotic fertilizers!"

"It's about their young.A simple mission this time."

Tzzk'rix paused. "Their... offspring?"

"We need someone to infiltrate a human educational facility. Someone with experience in human behaviors. Someone who has survived their recreational activities."

"But surely there are others-"

"You're the only operative who's ever returned from a human 'vacation' with all limbs intact, albeit with several interesting new phobias."

"The coffee wasn't my fault! And those 'drop bears' are real! I know they're real!"

K'thax's mandibles twitched in what might have been sympathy. "I repeat. The mission is simple. Infiltrate. Observe their young. Report back. No hiking, no spicy food, no bungee jumping."

"Their young," Tzzk'rix repeated slowly, remembering the docile Draknid hatchlings he'd helped raise before his military career. His eyes darted around like he wanted to bolt.

K'thax's antennae curled in amusement. "So you'll do it?"

Tzzk'rix looked at his ruined garden, then at the setting sun. His sense of duty warred with his hard-earned survival instincts. "I suppose... for the Empire..."

"Excellent! Your bio-modification begins tomorrow. We've made some upgrades since last time. The sweating issue should be mostly resolved."

As K'thax turned to leave, he added casually, "Oh, and you'll be handling something called a 'kindergarten class.'"

Later that night, as Tzzk'rix packed his emergency beacon (now upgraded with triple redundancy), he wondered why the word 'kindergarten' made his commander's mandibles twitch so violently. After all, he'd survived Australian wildlife. 

His last thought, as he locked up his greenhouse, was that at least this time he wouldn't have to drink any coffee.

The bio-modification chamber hummed ominously as Tzzk'rix endured his second transformation into human form. Three years of peaceful farming hadn't prepared him for this moment.

"We've made significant improvements," Chief Medical Officer V'lax announced, her tentacles dancing over holographic controls. "The sweating issue should be mostly resolved, and we've added a new feature - your skin won't change colors when stressed."

"Mostly resolved?" Tzzk'rix's mandibles clicked nervously.

"And the coffee resistance has been upgraded to maximum capacity," she added, ignoring his question. "Though I still wouldn't recommend testing it."

The transformation process felt like being turned inside out while solving complex mathematical equations in zero gravity. When it was complete, Tzzk'rix examined his reflection - tall, lean, with what humans would consider an "approachable" face. Perfect for a substitute teacher.

"Remember," Commander K'thax briefed him, "you're 'Mr. Terry' from Canada. We've prepared extensive documentation about your teaching credentials."

"Surely watching young humans can't be worse than-"

"Don't say it!" K'thax interrupted. "Every time someone mentions Australia, the medical bay's PTSD sensors overload." Somewhere an alarm sounded.

Happy Valley Elementary School loomed before him like a fortress. Tiny humans swarmed the entrance, their high-pitched vocalizations piercing the morning air. Their energy signatures were off the charts.

"Mr. Terry?" Principal Johnson extended her hand. "Welcome to Happy Valley! Don't worry about the scorch marks on the playground equipment - the fire department says they're mostly cosmetic."

Tzzk'rix's bio-suit registered a spike in anxiety. "Scorch marks?"

"Oh yes, little Timmy discovered chemistry last week. Such an enthusiastic learner! We've since implemented a strict 'No Unauthorized Explosions' policy."

The tour of the school revealed what Tzzk'rix could only describe as organized chaos. Tiny humans ricocheted off walls with impossible energy levels. Art projects that defied the laws of physics adorned the halls. And was that... a hamster giving him a suspicious look?

"This will be your classroom," Principal Johnson gestured to Room 23. "Mrs. Henderson had a family emergency - something about her sister's pet iguana achieving sentience. The usual substitute is out with a medical emergency - the doctors say she'll stop speaking in rhymes any day now."

Inside the classroom, evidence of recent chaos was everywhere. Glitter - the most persistent form of human biological warfare - sparkled ominously on every surface. Crayon drawings depicted scenes that would make military strategists weep.

"One last thing," Principal Johnson added cheerfully. "We've had to ban sugar in the classroom after The Great Cupcake Incident of Last Tuesday. We're still finding frosting in the air vents."

As she left, Tzzk'rix noticed a crude drawing on the wall labeled "My Family Fighting Dragons." The dragons were losing.

His internal communicator buzzed: "Status report?"

"Preparing for first contact with human offspring," he replied. "Request permission to upgrade bio-suit's armor rating."

The first tiny humans began filtering into the classroom. Their energy signatures made ghost peppers look tame.

"Are you our new teacher?" a small female with pigtails asked. "Mrs. Henderson let us keep Gerald."

"Gerald?"

A class tarantula waved from its terrarium.

Tzzk'rix's bio-suit began sweating despite the upgrades. It was going to be a long day.

"Don't worry," a boy with missing front teeth grinned. "We only lost two substitute teachers this year!"

His emergency beacon suddenly felt very, very light in his pocket.

The morning bell rang. Somewhere in the universe, his crystal melons were probably wilting in sympathy.

Tzzk'rix's bio-suit hiccupped. This was definitely worse than Australia.

"Mr. Terry" - stood before his classroom of twenty-five kindergarteners, who stared at him with unnervingly calculating eyes. His bio-suit was already beginning to malfunction under their intense scrutiny.

"Good morning, tiny hu- I mean, children," he managed, trying to sound cheerful rather than terrified. "Your regular teacher had an emergency, so I'll be-"

"Why do you sweat so much?" a small girl with pigtails interrupted, her hand still raised even as she asked the question.

"And why does your face glitch sometimes?" added a boy missing his front teeth.

"I have a medical condition," Tzzk'rix replied, using his standard excuse. "It's very common in Canada."

"My mom's from Canada," another child piped up. "She never glitches."

Before Tzzk'rix could formulate a response, the classroom door burst open. Mrs. Henderson's assistant rushed in, looking frantic.

"Mr. Terry! Emergency staff meeting - just five minutes. The children are having their morning snack, everything's laid out. They're only allowed the sugar-free options in the blue containers!"

She disappe...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/doggos_are_cute11 on 2024-11-25 18:21:35+00:00.

It was but a week, after the Trigomorph empire invaded the sovereignty of the Federation of the Sol. Multiple systems have fallen under the trigomorph boot, falling under their relentless advance. The Galactic council reviewed the reason for war, given by the Trigomorph's. "The reason of war, given to us by the Trigomorph's to be reviewed by the council, has been deemed invalid, the reason of "Too many moons" has been accepted before, but seeing the recklessness demonstrated by the Trigomorph's, We the council herby impose light economic sanctions upon the Trigomorph empire, for the wars against the Federation of the Sol.." Said Xelias, the Progalrian, the Ambassador presiding after a vote. that paragraph would go down in human history as the story of incompetence of the council, one that wont be easily forgotten.

It came as a surprise to many, when most of the Federation ships suddenly withdrew from the backline, leaving Opening a direct route to a system just one jump to Sol, the federations greatest joy and home. They continued their advance, relentlessly capturing systems, They did not explore, just left a small occupation team, well, considering if your "small" is about 2 million troops. at least that's what they consider small in their troop count.

When they arrived to Proxima centaury, They were met by a dozen ships. Suddenly, a Comns link opened to the flagship of the Trigomorphian fleet, The "Never ending."

"Hello invaders." Rang out the voice of Seamus, Captain of a destroyer stationed at the front.

The Trigomorph captain, Vexrolorm, decide to listen to their supposed begging of help, ignoring the incoming text link, saying the captured planets were devoid of any humans.

"We the humans, of our great federation, fought hard, to unite our earth and expand beyond our solar system. We fought hard to establish contact with other civilizations, we fought hard to get on the council, we fought hard against you."

He paused for a moment. "You see, humans, are a cunning and ambitious people, but they are not a kind to just lay down and accept death, No, we are greater then that." With that, the human formation broke, revealing, until now, perfectly hidden ships as they turn off their cloakers, a yet unknown technology. "We will never surrender, No matter if we die, or if we will never walk again. May your deity grand you peace, for we wont." He ends the transmition. and as he does, every single god damn human ship fires with all their might, including laser, plasma, and what apears to be small metal objects ejecting from a rotating cylinder. Vexrolorm barely has the time to pray before the shots land, destroying his shields, and destroying his reactor. As Vaxrolom gets jettisoned into space, he can only think of one thing.

"B-b-but... how the hell did they hide their ships?"

AFTER-MATH TO BE CONTINUED, STAY TUNED!

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The original was posted on /r/science by /u/No-Lifeguard-8173 on 2024-11-26 00:05:21+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/science by /u/Creative_soja on 2024-11-25 23:49:49+00:00.

Original Title: Climate change will cut hydropower output by up to 23% in the Western Interconnection Grid. The grid will require an additional 139 GW of new capacity—three times California's peak demand—to offset such decrease at the cost of $150 billion.

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The original was posted on /r/science by /u/QldBrainInst on 2024-11-25 23:44:28+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/science by /u/mvea on 2024-11-25 23:01:31+00:00.

Original Title: Positively responding to partner stress is valuable, particularly early in a romantic relationship, suggests a new study. Caring about a partner's well-being signals caring, empathy, and relational investment. Partners who feel supported perceive higher relational quality.

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The original was posted on /r/science by /u/Wagamaga on 2024-11-25 21:17:37+00:00.

Original Title: Language used by mothers affects oxytocin levels of infants. For the first time, researchers discovered that the amount that a mother talks to their infant about their infant’s thoughts and feelings is directly correlated with their infant’s oxytocin levels.

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The original was posted on /r/science by /u/amesydragon on 2024-11-25 17:40:09+00:00.