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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/BrodogIsMyName on 2025-12-28 14:29:21+00:00.
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Edited by /u/Evil-Emps
“You saw the drone footage. There was no time to react, and we got through the interaction without anyone dying!” Tracy’s dumbass lover defended himself, holding his hands up in front of himself.
The technician angrily scrubbed her eyes from the hour she spent glued to the monitors. She had rushed out of the cold to meet him, braving the freezing winds in a moment of worried frustration.
“You could have stopped and talked with me or prepared something for the paladin!” she scolded, grabbing onto his exoskeleton’s neck armor. “You didn’t see how fucking close that hammer was to your skull! You’d better thank every god on this planet that Shar’s in one piece, too!”
He softly laid his palms on her sides, lowering the heat of her exasperation. “How were we meant to know her weapons were infused with artifacts?”
“Yeah… Okay, but still! I mean, you didn’t even answer the radio for like an hour! What the hell was up with that, dude!” Tracy continued, pulling him closer. She looked around his armor to see the very people who tried to kill him. “And what about the other Malkrin? Why the hell are we taking actual prisoners?”
Harrison glanced to the side at the others as they walked past them. The hammer-wielding paladin-bitch was in a female-sized stretcher when she should’ve been in a casket, somehow still breathing after taking several fifty-caliber rounds to the upper body. The spears stood on the sides as both rope-restrained and free Malkrin walked into the fortress settlement.
The engineer took her arm and led her away from the convoy of terrified new arrivals, shameful prisoners, and stalwart Sharkrin spears—all already scanned for infection and cleared, just in case.
His voice lowered, finally matching her worry. “Look, I was talking with Shar and the other girls interrogated some of Kegara’s troops. We could have just sent them back and face the freezing cold wilderness, without their paladin’s fire artifact that they lived and died by. Or…”
He took a slow breath, taking off his helmet. His hair was sweaty, and his strained eyes bored into her with an air of grave sincerity. He tilted his head in an offer. “…We could keep them here, be nice, and wait to see if the bitch on the stretcher can be fixed up. We’ll show them a little of how we operate and maybe some will stay. The ones who decide to leave won’t have many negative things to say. We’ll let them tell the others they were treated kindly and sent back with as few scratches as possible. That’s a hell of a lot better than rumors spread by terrified knights, doncha think?”
Tracy gave him a difficult look, unsure of how to respond. She could see the vision, but… “How the fuck are we gonna feed, house, and ‘fix up’ FIFTY MORE MALKRIN!? TWO-FIFTHS OF THEM AREN’T EVEN GOING TO WORK! We don’t have a prison. We don’t have housing! Dude!”
The technician threw her arm out wide toward the massive, muscled aliens marching along before jabbing a finger into his armored chest with emphasis on each word. “What. Are. We. Going. To. Do? How? With what material? With what construction drones? I’m already nose-deep in the colony network rework, so don’t tell me you expect another fully-completed builder-bot army in time to build a prissy paladin princess prison. There are going to be some serious sacrifices and consequences! You of all people should know how much this ass-rails our plans!”
Harrison slid his hand up her arm and around her neck muscles to softly knead them… The fucker knew her weak spots, gently easing her boiling frustration and sending a nice shiver down her spine. Her breathing calmed as he continued in the same, sympathetic voice.
“No, you’re absolutely right, Trace. Things are gonna change real quick. We’ve got over a hundred Malkrin here now. We’ll first move the builder bots from the shipyard and delay the ocean expansion. That’ll net us a little under thirty drones to construct housing overnight for the new workers. As for the prisoners? The injured ones are going to be put in the medical beds on the first floor of dormitory three. Balrog the Angry, Dredth’khee, is going to be tied down while she heals too. The rest of Kegara’s girls will be treated like the new arrivals and given menial jobs and housing last.”
Tracy squinted at him in disbelief. “You’re putting a hell of a lot of trust into literal strangers who wanted you dead.”
He shook his head. “They’re beyond terrified. Plus, this gives the strike team more to do than just train; they’ll get to play guard for now. Not to mention that the other workers always have their guns on their person, so it's not like the prisoners would get very far… They’ll keep a good eye on ‘em.”
“And feeding nearly twice the amount of giant, powerlifting-model shark women?”
“Rationing, at first. All the while, we’re going to print out three logistics water-skeeters and get all the new fisherwomen back into the ocean while the other ten builder-bots start on a second hydroponics module,” he answered, pulling out his data pad from his back.
“Fuck’s sake,” she groaned in a slow release of tense emotions, letting her forehead fall into his bulky, armored chest. His metallic arms wrapped around her nicely. “I guess we’ve also built up our dry-room and freezer storage… You’re planning on using our stockpiled material for clothing and whatever else, too, yeah?”
“For now,” he relented.
“But you have plans for some fuckass factory line to make up for what we’re lacking right now?”
“I do.”
Tracy took in a deep sigh and nuzzled her forehead into him further. She was already convinced. “And you’re anticipating that the others will integrate the new ones into our settlement naturally.”
He shrugged, his warm neck massage becoming her lifeline against the frigid sea breeze. “They’re already doing it pretty well. The strike team’s become pretty good at breaking the ice. Heat pads, good food, and proof of safety would be one hell of a sight for me if I were banished like that. Especially with Monbishoppe’s reassurance. The banished really want to hear that they weren’t religiously, socially, and physically screwed after a long, freezing boat ride… It’ll be good, Trace. Promise.”
“I believe you… dork,” Tracy resigned with a subtle giggle. She pulled her head up and looked up at him. He wasn’t hurt, and he had plans. Things were alright for now.
Her loving dweeb had a way with putting her at ease. That spike of chest-crushing anxiety she had earlier genuinely might’ve been a death sentence for a younger version of her.
But now? She really had someone to lean on for the first time in a long while.
= = = = =
God dammit, what the hell was Harrison going to do about FIFTY Malkrin? He practically scrambled out of the armor suffocating him. A disgusting layer of sweat stuck to his skin and immediately started to itch under the workshop’s stale heat.
He clicked his tongue twice and waited. His heart thumped in rhythm with the machinery all around, pumping a painful stress through his chest—constant, predictable, and never-ending.
“Creator,” Vodny answered from behind him, appearing out of nowhere. She had already switched to urban camouflage from her orange, sea-debris-covered ghillie suit prior. Her expression was covered by an obscuring net over her helmet
He spoke quickly. “I need you to keep an eye on all the new ones. Just listen and pick out dissenters. Give me a general vibe of their opinions. I’ll ask the squad leaders too. I also need you to give me updates on Cera and the medics’ progress with Dredth’khee when you get the chance.”
The shadow bowed her head, but disagreed. “You will be undefended if I leave.”
“It’s fine,” he assured, unclipping his rig from the upright armor’s exoskeleton. “I’ll be safer with a better feel over the prisoners and new guys.”
The engineer unclasped his big iron’s holster and put it around his waist, bringing a supporting brace over his shoulder. He glanced up as he tied the strap, but Vodny had already disappeared without a sound… Damn, Cera taught her good.
He spent the next few minutes cobbling together a plan for the hydroponics dome at his desk, transferring a few files to his data pad directly. The farmers would appreciate a more visual representation of the extra workload they’d have. Especially on top of needing to train the new ones. It would be arduous, but there was plenty of arduous work to be spread around. Hell, the script-keeper, shop-keeper, and clergy had their work cut out for them, what with classifying all the new ones into work, even the ‘prisoners.’
/- - - - -
The sun was already down by the time Harrison left the workshop. He made his way through the streetlights toward the farmers, prepared for the first of many meetings that night. His thoughts drifted all the while. A worry over non-lethal opinions and rules of engagement resurfaced, but soon changed as he pondered what the hell blue-wood had to do with artifacts.
No matter what he thought of, everything reminded him that there was going to be a lot of work to do. Those ‘sacrifices and con...
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