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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Auggy74 on 2026-02-06 16:00:43+00:00.

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Vilantia Prime, A'Jutland Wastes

The skies above were permanently dismal. The land was barren and impassable in places, cratered from wars and subsequent use as a testing ground for weapons as well as a noxious waste disposal ground. There were no fauna or flora to be seen, and nights were spent listening to wind howl lowly over rocks as it carried disease and poisons. Meals were a single war-ration a day with water that had to run through a six-stage filtration system before it could even be made slightly palatable. Sanitation consisted of a soaked cloth and a chemical toilet. It was not an area to be traveled lightly.

Lafione was having the time of his life on this pilgrimage. He'd done the best thing for himself without even realizing it. As the distance from the estate increased, he was - quite possibly for the first time in his life - living. Each place he went to, following hints and references to things that no longer officially existed, he'd been able to piece together the locations of cache sites, cities laid to rubble, and then take what data he could and then fabricate the ancient connectors he needed to make it work with modern components. Most of the things he'd found were encrypted in some way; but this latest find was unencrypted. All he'd had to do was find a power source, and the projection played. It was an older man, dressed in some ancient cloth that somehow seemed wrong and off-putting. The markings were likewise unfamiliar, but there was a dignity of sorts about them. It took a few moments but his translator began working, making the ancient words understandable.

"Well. Hello there. If you're seeing this, I suppose I should consider myself fortunate. They say history is written by the survivors - if my words have survived the passage of time, they may be a beacon of sorts to those fortunate enough to not live in these times."

"Our world has survived for thousands of millennia - but only in the last two centuries were we able to truly overcome our own world's pull that kept us on the ground. It seemed with every passing year some new invention, innovation, new crafts had all of Vilantia clamoring for more. We'd made the discoveries, and knew the truth that alien life was out there - we were able to hear their static but not understand their meaning. So we chose to work on things in secret, keeping the populace distracted with baubles and stage tricks while we worked on the inventions that would launch our world into a new golden age. We kept them divided in every way possible so that there would be no resistance, no investigation into what we were doing - because what we were doing would alter the very foundations of our understanding of things. The Throne ruled, but our words were the law. When the aliens came, we would meet them as equals. Our last innovation was the discovery of superluminal travel, and that was going to change everything."

"What we were doing was poisoning the world, of course - toxic and eternal. Publicly we showed our concern for this, but in reality? We didn't care if we burned Vilantia to a cinder since there were dozens, dozens upon dozens of worlds we could see and settle. Our first experiment was to be the world orbiting the Hurdop star. After that, when we'd perfected reshaping worlds to our needs, they could all be ours. Trading one world for hundreds was an easy choice to make. And that, our blindness to our homeworld, was our first undoing." The tone and scent were neutral, as if he were simply recounting the weather.

"Our second undoing was our hubris. We knew better than any, we told ourselves. Those who worked in the fabrication labs, the mines, they were our lessers and they knew it. We took what we needed and in return gave Vilantia just enough to survive. The grumblings of the politicians were just that. Until the Throne died, and the populace could no longer be set at ease."

"Our last undoing was the Warlord A'Gryzzk. I won't pretend to know the exact sequence of events. What I know is that he was able to broker a peace between the factions we'd created. And the first thing he did after creating the peace was to declare war on behalf of the heirs to the Throne. We fought them, of course - our weapons were more advanced." The speaker paused for a moment. "Tactically we were inferior - they'd been fighting among themselves for generations and the Warlord was a genius even by their standards. So it was not a matter of if but when we would lose. As soon as we'd determined the scientific truth carved in the bodies of - of millions, we began attempting to sue for peace."

"It failed - I suppose it's ironic in a way, we'd created the very tools they used to destroy us. Herded us to this toxic land and told us to raise the child we'd created. The only solace I have is that without an external threat, they'll destroy themselves just as efficiently as they destroyed us. So in the end, they'll realize how much they needed us, and that the sacrifice would have been worth it."

The recording ended, leaving Lafione in something of a state of shock. It wasn't simply the words that iced his bones, the matter-of-factness surrounding what would be charitably described as an annihilation and erasure of entire clans was frightening to consider. He'd wanted to find something, and he had. The problem was how his discovery would be taken by the world. If the world would even accept it.

There had to be more in that ancient cache, and he was going to find it.

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

As he settled in his command chair, Gryzzk glanced at his tablet and realized that tomorrow had been designated as an off-day for the ship, as much as such was possible while underway. The positive side of it was that Rosie was handling most of the ship functions, allowing the crew a respite from the daily routine of wake-eat-duty-eat-duty-sleep. The down side was that the supply and logistics sections were taking Chapma's actions personally, based on the reports from Captain Gregg-Adams and Sergeants Zale and Rizzo. Once the shift change occurred and O'Brien was officially off-duty, Gryzzk lifted a finger for her to stay.

"Sergeant Major, would you mind if I asked you to delay the comfort of your Terran-g room for a moment?"

To her credit, O'Brien simply nodded first to the conference room and then to his quarters in mute inquiry, and then fell into step behind as Gryzzk went to his quarters - an indication that this was going to be a conversation of counsel and not duty.

As the door closed, Gryzzk settled himself in his main chair while O'Brien took the lower stool, rolling her sleeves up carefully.

"Sergeant Major, I have been contemplating - the ship in general, and the supply section in specific are ill at ease with things."

There was a soft grunt as O'Brien adjusted herself to Vilantian-standard. "Been thinking about it. They need a wee reminder of sorts that they are a group that's done fine things, and that out there scurrying about in his sewer-hole is a right scurrying rat who needs to have a long sit with the Almighty." She stood, pacing slowly. "Your job is to remind them that when the time comes and the price is right, our job'll be to arrange the meeting."

"You have a suggestion?"

"Aye. Every so often there's a thing that comes an' goes. Called challenge coins - little thing you pull out of your pocket, everyone in the group has theirs on them or they buy the first one a drink. Sometimes the group. Exact stuff varies, but it's a token of belonging. Maybe something like that'd remind all of mother's blessed darlings that they're still a unit, a clan, what have you." She rolled her hand over to expose the clanmark tattooed on her wrist. "That is unless there's another one of your clans lining up to get banjaxed at our hand. That'll sort 'em whistle-quick."

"I will take this under advisement." It had become something of a joke between the two - they both knew that Gryzzk was already mulling over ways to make the sergeant major's suggestion properly Vilantian, and while he certainly couldn't directly pay her, he could ensure that O'Brien would not go thirsty at the bar. "Now, I recall you wanting to discuss my 'bloody awful sense of timing' on the way home?"

"I'm glad you remembered - sir, a bomb like that has precisely two places where it can be properly set off; in private like this or in front of the entire company."

"Well. In keeping with that, would you indulge in a light fiction and pretend you weren't aware until fines are passed out at Sparrows? Sergeant Reilly is also aware of the Throne's decree and the reasoning - she wanted to be the one to tell you."

"Who else knows of this?"

"On the ship? Myself, Kiole, Sergeant Reilly, and now you."

There was a mischievous sparkle in O'Brien's scent and eye that made Gryzzk resolve on the spot to never delve too deeply into her service record. "Oh, that'll be a grand thing then."

Gryzzk nodded as calmly as he could. "Thank you Sergeant Major. I'll see you when we're ready to leave R-space."

"Always, Major." O'Brien took the dismissal with her normal courtesy, and make for the lighter gravitational...

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