This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Exciting-Story-8393 on 2026-02-06 23:02:49+00:00.

Authors note:

This is an original story by me (my precious ... the first one I have actually put in the wild, so be kind ... or not). I always welcome feedback, good, bad or in between.

Sounding board and polish? Yes I use AI (Grok), but it's a tool, the story, writing, characters, plot and voice are all mine, as mentioned in my Rule 8 comment.

I'd like to thank everyone out there that pushed me to actually do this, you know who you are.

I hope you enjoy.

The Last Human Warship

Captain Kieran O’Connor stood facing the viewscreen. He had always considered the command chair far too claustrophobic for his tastes, always tried to be just one of the crew… with varying rates of success.

His grizzled features matched those of his ship, scarred and well past their best. They were both the last of their lines to boot.

Lucky them.

The UENS Glowworm… He chuckled at the designation, there hadn’t been an Earth, let alone a unified Earth for over seventy years.

A navy? He was all that was left of it.

And what was he doing out here now? Babysitting duty for a colony seed fleet.

Seven species. The last humans among them. The restart of the race.

Not that anyone would have missed us if we had died with Earth.

The weak link they called us.

The slum of the universe.

But we did have a particular talent for living, for surviving, so far.

He sighed and shook his head as he looked out at the sixty three transports.

Babysitters.

His reverie was broken by the tactical officer.

“Sir, we have ships on scope, long range, heading this way.”

Kieran’s head turned slowly, deliberately.

“Specifics please, Mr Adams.”

“Unknown sir, no broadcast ident, no transmissions, no configuration match in our tactical database. But there are thousands of them sir, almost like the old drone swarms we used to use, and their course matches ours precisely.”

“Onscreen.”

The image flickered for a second as it changed and resolved, showing a spherical mass, undulating and pulsing like a living thing

“Sir, heading and speed ... I estimate they’ll be on us in a touch over five minutes”

Kieran straightened up, “Well I suppose we’d better get a shift on then.”

He opened a fleet channel, slowing his speech slightly for the translation matrix.

“All captains, power up your FTL engines, we have incoming ships, resume your course ... and we will catch up later if we can.”

Adams turned as soon as the fleet communications went dead

“The jump drives take fifteen minutes to power sir … maybe twelve if they want to risk it.

We have five.”

“That’s what we’re here for, Mr Adams. We have to buy them ten minutes

Helm, reverse course. Tactical, weapons free as soon as we breach firing range”

Two voices as one

“Aye sir.”

The hull protested.

Plates groaning under the stress of the turn as the engines roared to full power.

The low, angry rumble vibrated through the deck rattling teeth ship wide.

Kieran’s grasp on the rail tightened for balance, his knuckles blanching bone-white as the colour drained.

“Estimated time to full firing range?”

“2 minutes sir, they haven’t deviated, they’re still matching the fleet trajectory, not ours”

“Then lets make sure their eyes are on us, not them.”

The sphere swelled across the screen as Glowworm surged forward at full burn, its surface seething and coiling like liquid mercury.

Kieran stared at it, grip still locked on the rail.

“Big bastard isn’t it?” Adams muttered, his voice low and quiet, yet somehow still carrying across the bridge.

Uneasy laughter rippled across the bridge. No one looked away from their consoles.

Kieran exhaled sharply, biting down his own dry chuckle.

“Eyes off the screen, Mr Adams. I want that firing solution.”

Adams blinked, tore his gaze from the sphere, hands already moving across the tactical console.

“Firing solution computing, sir. Railguns and lances locked. We’ll have range in thirty seconds. On your orders sir?”

The bridge hummed with the low growl of charging capacitors. The countdown ticked down in red digits.

Kieran’s voice cut through it, calm but edged with something final.

“You won’t hear me say this often, but bugger my orders. Fire when you’re in range.

”Adams’ fingers paused — just a fraction — then resumed.

“Aye, sir.”

The bridge silenced once more. Everyone knew what that meant.

Adams’ voice was the only thing to cut through the quiet.

“Twenty seconds,”

“Ten Seconds,”

“Five … Four … Three … Two … One ...”

His hand moved fluidly, sending the first full salvo outward — railguns hurling massive slugs at relativistic speeds, plasma lances stabbing out in blinding white beams of solid heat. The blackness of the void flared with silent fury. Hundreds of the enemy formation vanished in brilliant flashes, debris blooming like sparks from a forge.

For a moment, muted triumph flickered on the bridge … no cheering, just all eyes locked on the viewscreen as ruptures rippled across the sphere's mercurial surface.

Then the writhing stopped… stilled.

The ships, if that’s what they could be called, spread out like wings, revealing a central core — massive, spherical — glowing sickly green across its surface, the light pulsing languidly in diseased waves.

Adams spoke, voice dry as his hands flicked across the console.

“Initial scans were wrong, sir, that spread has far more ships than we detected

Forty thousand ... Sixty ... A hundred ... Two hundred.”

The wings peeled away in waves, almost half the ships surging forward, too precise, too co-ordinated.

His voice lowered as he turned towards Kieran, cracking slightly.

“Shit, sir … that isn’t a fleet. And those aren’t ships. It’s a swarm.”

As he spoke the swarm’s wings — fully half their number — surged forward in perfect formation, not a single wasted movement.

Kieran’s grip tightened once more on the rail, his voice lowering, almost introspective.

“They’re heading straight for the fleet ... completely ignoring us.”

“Of course they are, we’re just one ship, they’re heading for the biggest targets — the biggest concentration.”

He straightened, the captain face returning.

“Target that … whatever it is … and open fire.”

Adam’s fingers moved across his console.

“Full spread locked sir, torpedoes now in range.”

All guns spoke again, a deadly hail reaching into the void, metal and plasma tearing through space.

The rear swarm shifted, blocking the core from view.

As the railgun slugs carved through, they bled momentum against living hulls. Plasma flared where it hit, dissipating through the swarm. Torpedoes exploded on contact long before they reached their target ... each wasted on a single drone.

Hundreds destroyed, maybe a thousand… a drop in the ocean.

“Ineffective, sir. No hits on the target. Complete interception.” Adams’ voice dropped, weary, resigned, “We might as well be using bows and arrows against a storm.”

Kieran dropped his gaze away from the screen for a second

Then he instantly raised it as comms spoke

“We’re getting reports sir, the swarm has reached the first transport.”

“On screen”

The sphere disappeared from view in a moment, the image refocusing to the transport, surrounded by a dimming blue haze as wave after wave of drones rammed the shields like missiles, shattering on impact.

In the darkness the glow flared once, twice, then died as the shields failed.

Kieran and the crew watched in horror as the metallic creatures surged forward as one, locking onto the hull of the transport like limpets. Plating peeled back like tin foil. Plumes of frozen air jetted into the void… and then the bodies.

The engine glow faded, and the ship darkened. Little more than a floating dead hulk, being stripped by what seemed like silver sheened locusts.

And they moved on without pause, surging toward a second transport … then they stopped, suddenly, without warning.

The formation held as if trapped behind an invisible barrier, the foremost creatures drifted, out of formation, wings furled … almost as if dead.

Kieran leaned forward at the rail. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

“We have movement from their ‘ship’, sir, it is advancing,” Adams’ voice lowered a touch, “and so are the swarm.”

They watched as the front line of the swarm moved, slowly, inexorably, and as the ‘dead’ units revived with a single jerk and unfurling of wings as the line reached them.

“Which ship are they moving on?”

Adams looked at his console, “The Iridian Grace, sir.”

Kieran paled slightly,

“God ... that’s the XO’s ship, he’s there with his family on rotation.”

He snapped back and turned to Adams, “Are they moving at the same speed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s get their eyes on us. Charge weapons. Bring engines to full burn … and hit that core hard. That is the control centre, and now we know its range”

Adams glanced away from his console in dismay, “The Iridian Grace has gone, sir.”

Kieran set his jaw.

“Ignore it, there’s nothing we can do for them, our task is to save the others … no losses are acceptable.” The words tasted like ashes in his mouth.

“But the XO, sir?”

“He’s dead… but there are sixty-one ships out there that are still very much alive.”

The engines roared to full burn. Weapons barked into the void with the same results — thousands of the swarm dead but no damage to the core. Failure.

Yet they kept firing — salvo after salvo. Failure after failure.

Adams’ voice cracked, “Lost a third, sir, they got to it as it was jumping.”

Kieran lowered his head, “And our guns ar...

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