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You think that only the creation engines and the nanoforges are why Terra's logistics system is so dominant?

Then why do the Lanaktallan all send their officers to the Mechakrautland Logistics Academy? - Doornut, Tukna'rn Historian, 25 Post Terran Emergence

General Talkik<klik>nak stared at Operation Banana Goblin in the holotank.

What was leaving TerraSol was entire military divisions backed up by Space Force task forces.

"It could have been done by running a clone worlds consortiums systems ship with a creation engine and just doubled each time they started," Tik-Tak said, reaching out with the knife to tap on the icons. "A good plan, but too light, too easy to fail by hitting a single snag. That was the plan all of this was wrapped around."

General Talkik<klik>nak nodded slowly.

He expected to see that only creation engines and nanoforges were going to be in place.

No. Those were just part of the initial step of Operation Banana Goblin. The creation engines and nanoforges were to be used to build living areas and clone banks, extraction facilities, then refining facilities, then manufacturing facilities, then shipping.

Each of the dots become a massive extraction, refining, manufacturing, shipping loops.

No single point of failure either.

Sensitive equipment manufacturing away from the new 'allies' and the species that were thrust into the whirlwind due to the Mar-gite or the Ornislarp Noocracy. Things like heavy weaponry, certain engines, and certain hulls, as well as warsteel production, were placed away from those species and guarded by Space Force.

"Phase three is to bring in specialists from Senior and Validated Confederacy Members so they run the local nodes," Tik-Tak said. He was cutting a block of cheese with his knife.

"Where is everything for phase two coming from?" General Talkik<klik>nak asked.

"The cloning banks and the people we have in cold storage will be doing a lot of work at first, which is always nervous. We have quite a few non-orbital forward operating bases in cold storage around Neptune," Tik-Tak said. He began cutting the meat to the perfect size to stab with a bladearm tip.

It was making General Talkik<klik>nak slightly hungry.

Still continuing Tik-Tak used the knife to whip the sauce, pausing to take a drink of his ale.

"Wars are won or lost upon logistics, General. Humanity has known this since gunpowder was confined to crude cannons and the calvary fought with swords. Actually, thousands of years prior to that," Tik-Tak said. He tasted the tip of the knife and nodded. "The Creation Engines and Nanoforges are part of the system, but we are going to build up the logistics system around them, not replace them."

General Talkik<klik>nak nodded along.

Tik-Tak turned and tapped the tray so that it hovered and moved it between the human and the Treana'ad.

"Cheese from Smokey Cone, meat from the Great Grass Expansave in the Hamburger Kingdom, hunted by dinosaur riders with spears," he said. He tapped the tray. "Sauce is my mom's secret recipe."

General Talkik<klik>nak nodded politely, spearing a slice of cheese, then meat, and dipping them with a slight feeling of resignation. Human sauces all tasted terrible to the Treana'ad taste buds.

He was startled how amazing the whole thing tasted. The sauce was absolutely perfect for the Treana'ad palate and he closed his eyes and sighed.

"When my mother was younger mixing sauces was all the rage with the just molted females. She prided herself with her sauces," the portly general said, stabbing cheese, meat, cheese again and then dipping it in the sauce. He bit it and closed his eyes. "It helps me focus when things get stressful."

General Talkik<klik>nak had to admit, the sharp tang, the underlying sweetness, combined with the cheese's familiar flavor and the meat's exotic taste and spice all combined to make him feel a little more focused.

"If you have the Creation Engines and Nanoforges, why bother with all of the rest?" General Talkik<klik>nak asked.

"Humanity tries to avoid single failure points while seeking out single failure points in their enemies," Tik-Tak said. "The Ornislarp rely too much on their food species. They don't have fallback foods any more. We take away their food species, by protecting them or nova sparking them, we take away their food. No food, the Ornislarp revert to cannibalism," Tik-Tak shrugged. "Sure, food is a critical infrastructure point, but Ornislarp are uniquely positioned because they eat sentient beings you can teach to fire a power rifle and throw a grenade, not to mention the Ornislarp themselves are outnumbered by hundreds to one."

General Talkik<klik>nak nodded slowly, spearing another set of treats.

They were really good in combination. The double-cheese was the best, he decided.

The lecture went on about how the spread was going to work. How the assets were already being staged.

The snack made it easier to control the flow of the conversation. If he needed a few moments to gather his thoughts or process information, a quick bladearm tip spearing of meat and cheese and slow sauce dipping would provide it.

By the end, the amount of ships and manpower the Solarian Iron Dominion was putting forth was no longer something horrifying and outrageous but a perfectly natural outcome of fifty years of preparing to exit The Bag and fight a war that was being lost or already lost against the Lanaktallan.

An item that General Talkik<klik>nak knew suddenly fit in.

There were several huge ships that were found over the last several thousand years that didn't make sense. Just drifting out between the stars. Massive ships that had slips that could handle colossus class hulls in their repair slips. All of them just cold and silent. The warsteel resisted getting into them.

When General Talkik<klik>nak returned to his office he brought up the data.

All of them had been found in the "Long Dark" toward the old Council territory. Several recently (in the past ten thousand years) discovered species had found one at one time or another.

Two reports of teams gaining entry. One was a military investigation team. The other was a junker crew. Both reported the entire thing was filled with untold riches to the junker team and valuable hardware to the military team. The junker crew had it confiscated when they started selling hyperdrive cores and engines capable of travel in the upper bandwidths to anyone who wanted them.

In both cases, there were 'warbound' that were sent to Smokey Cone or Telkan. Two of the warbound were sent to Hamaroosa Prime.

General Talkik<klik>nak stared at where each of them were found just drifting. It was assumed they were derelicts that weren't even supposed to be there.

A quick set of dots showed him.

It was a line toward Lanaktallan Space.

He nodded. The humans had been building one just like it already.

He had admire that Tik-Tak had just picked up right where the previous one had left off and redeployed it.

After going over the data he went to the O-Club and ordered a nice dinner, complete with a traditional sauce.

The sauce had a faint taste of scorched metal and ruined the meal.

0-0-0-0-0

"We're at 52% lock and rising!" Technician Manfred Del'Mache called out. "TerraSol is locked! System has accepted the TerraSol rename to Solarian Iron Dominion."

Angela didn't look, instead concentrating on the data she was staring at on the smart window.

"Ess-Eye-Dee upload complete! Recent history and prime dimension reality status has been uploaded and accepted by the system!" Technician Reginald McDoorsey stated. "Recent history and status template born whole stitching is at seventy percent complete and rising. System rejection is at less than best case estimates."

"Reciprocal data transfers are locked," Ms. Bisa, Angela's supervisor, said softly from where she was standing next to Angela. "This is different."

"Military queue is firing again! Six digits and counting!" Analyst Angela Osorio called out. "Whoever it is, they're bypassing the interlocks and the accountability system. They're rapid-loading military sentience recordings to undisclosed ports and outbound systems."

Senior Analyst Angela Angus Kusumoto just nodded, watching as another <REDACTED> node suddenly came online, connected, synched up, downloaded a few thousand SUDS templates, then gave an exit handshake, registered the SUDS template serial numbers, and disconnected.

She'd seen this a few times, but only for individuals.

"What are we at?" she asked.

"Six million and climbing. All have the same entry date code," Osorio said.

"I've got something labeled 'extreme short term clone warrior template file repository' coming up and being accessed," someone else called out.

Angela moved over to the window and looked out of it. She looked down, through the band of clear air between the mountain and the cloud that eternally encircled the mountain. She could see the beaches and the towns even from this height.

"Ma'am?" Analyst Gregors asked.

Angela kept staring.

"Ma'am?" Technical Specialist Obadiah Roberts asked.

Ms. Bisa just stayed silent, looking at the furious activity in the room.

It had been three years since the system had done anything but function checks on itself.

Now it had been running hard for nearly a hundred hours.

"Traumatic Life Cessation has begun transferring templates to the outgoing queue!"

Angela just nodded, staring outside.

The gates of Hell have just opened.

0-0-0-0-0

Stellar Mass VELT-823572, Second Planet

The Ornislarp had held the planet for nearly twenty thousand years. It was the only one remotely survivable. The yellow sun as harsh with radiation, but the overly strong magnetic field attenuated the solar winds and radiation that was often strong enough to light up the sky with streamers of light.

It had been combed over 20,000 years prior. The buildings had been erased by scavenging and time.

It wasn't a pleasant world for the Ornislarp, but it was near the Confederacy's borders but not close enough that the military presence would cause the Confederacy to react militarily.

Diplomatically, after a century or two the Confederacy had new complaints about the Ornislarp Noocracy to replace a worthless stellar system being grabbed.

The Ornislarp, for all of their eagerness to gather up Terror relics, had, like most species, missed a few here and there.

Those items had sat dormant.

They were a fusion of the best longevity systems developed by the Mantid and toughness developed by the Terrans.

Most of the items left behind were inert. Time having sipped away their strength.

One was still alive.

It got the ping. The tiny sensor the size of a hydrogen atom's nucleus picked up the signal. It took nearly seventy hours for the little sensor to get the whole data stream, after all, it was working with an on-off coding signal instead of the more elegant 8 setting or 3 setting systems.

Then it turned on fully.

The first thing it did was open an iris and intake the stone and dirt around it. The iris didn't open fully, but it opened enough. Just a pinprick, but when you are dealing with the scale of atoms it might as well have been an opening the size of a stellar system.

Intake of matter meant raw materials.

Other chips the size of subatomic particles activated. One in particular tapped out a request and nother, larger one, began gathering mass.

One hundred hours after the signal was received the orb's manufacturing iris managed to open just far enough to let the silver liquid threat through the needle's eye and surround the orb that was only the size of a baby's fist.

By two hundred hours the silver liquid had seeped into the bedrock, slipping between atoms and molecules. Sometimes lifting them to the little orb, other times rearranging or just moving them to another location.

At three hundred hours five larger versions of the little orb activated in the bedrock, built atom by atom, subatomic particle by subatomic particle.

When your building blocks are the actual particles that make up atoms, anything can be built.

The Ornislarp held a military exercise, completely unaware that beneath their feet, in the bedroom, chambers were being created as rock was converted to other material. It wasn't the quick 'one basic thing dissolves become other complex things instantly' but more 'thing dissolves, turns into resource, resource dissolves, turns into part' as the orbs went to work.

At four hundred hours, an entire underground complex was built.

At five hundred hours the underground complex was filled with equipment and materials.

The orbs, exhausted, were disassembled.

The little orb, that started it all, just shut down and waited for perhaps another day.

Deep underground, right outside the largest military facility of the planet, lights flickered on.

The biomatter printer made a loud whining noise that slowly pitched up before going silent.

There was a gurgling as the tube filled with thick clear fluid.

The printer started building the skeletal structure rapidly.

Once the body was complete, the bioprinter tilted so that the body inside was laying on its back.

The body's breathing was slow and easy as the gel was drained.

The system sprayed a leotard on the body.

There was a mild jolt to the socket at the base of the skull.

The eyes fluttered.

The human sat up, yawning and stretching.

In the other 999 printers in just that room, everyone else was repeating the same motion.

All of them saw the same thing.

"YOU HAVE BEEN SUCCESSFULLY REVIVED!"

On the upper left of the leotard, they all had the same symbol.

A figure 8 with an arrow piercing it upwards.

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

First

(I need to get my sleep schedule under control again. Jesus Christ.)

Herald of Red Blades / Tread Softly Around Sorcerers

“You look lost in thought. What’s up?” Umah asks him.

“I saw into The Dark Forest. I saw a man carrying the soul of another and... I really need to use these freaky eyes of mine more.” Harold notes wryly. Then he blinks. Considers and gives her a very intense look.

Despite herself Umah moves her hands to cover her privates. Suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. “Stop that.”

He looks away.

“Sorry.”

“What were you looking at?”

“I wanted to see if the child already had a soul developing. And the answer is yes.” He says before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Why is that a... oh shit. If an unborn baby has a soul then... this is tying legal things into religious things again and tying it tight.”

“Such as the fact that if a baby has a soul then aborting a baby for any reason is state sanctioned murder of the innocent and helpless?” Harold asks softly and Umah’s eyes go wide as she stares at him. “To say nothing of adding to the immense legal complications around clones and... oh boy. I just kicked over an anthill the size of a mountain.”

“Yeah.”

“I need to report this... and I also need to calm down a bit. Hmm... how to have fun with this... I know.”

He brings out his communicator and goes to the contact called ‘The Room’ basically a place where anyone in intelligence can just post little things they’ve learned to see if anyone else can confirm or make use of it. Informtaion that by itself isn’t classified, but can still help, just not with the general mission. A lot of profiles and documents get absurd levels of detail thanks to the endless parade of little blurbs.

As he watches he sees some people mention they’re not sure how the Floric Kudzu is even alive as he just did something stupid that according to math says he should not only be dead, but but not have enough left to bury. Another person wonders if it’s a superpower. Then there’s a quick blurb about a profile being updated.

‘Hey guys, I just found out that Brin’Char is literally carrying the literal soul of his dead brother, The Dark Forest is protecting his soul and my unborn Takra-Takra child has a soul. Have fun!’

Question marks, demands for more information and a lot of swears FLY across the screen and his original comment is nearly a thousand messages deep in seconds flat.

“Job well done.” He notes to himself.

“What did you do?”

“Put world changing revelations on a public forum because that shit hasn’t been classified and is not going to be classified.”

“What if they do classify it.”

“Then I’m going to un-classify it with every ounce of power I can abuse. This is the kind of thing that needs to slip out. It’s not something that will tactically advantage the Undaunted to keep secret, but will FUCK US if we’re found keeping it a secret. Being the saint of a religion might be annoying at times, but being the Satan figure is worse.”

“Yeah, I see that. Still... Some people... I mean... I’ve looked up the statistics. There are a lot of mothers who try too early and have complicates meaning...”

“Yeah. This is going to kick off an insane amount of debate. And that’s IF I’m believed, others will call me a crackpot, trying to get attention. Others will point to one random thing or another and claim it disproves me, or even fabricate evidence to either support or counteract it. The existence of the soul is big on it’s own but has precedent and doesn’t shake the boat too much, having it present in the unborn is going to make a lot different people feral in a lot of different ways.”

“And a lot of people will be trying to see if they can get you to confirm or deny if some kind of advanced AI is a person, or at what exact point the soul comes into a baby, or when a person’s soul transfers into a synth body oh! Oh! Imagine if you find out that Synths don’t have the same soul they did when they have flesh! Or if they don’t have them at all!”

“I’ve spotted Synths. They have souls.” Harold says.

“Oh. Okay. Still, it’s a lot.”

“It is.”

“And how is Brin’Char carrying his brother’s soul?”

“I don’t know, but from what I could see he was doing it long enough that he was basically a part of him.”

“He ate his brother?”

“No, he was just holding on for so long that it’s just part of him to keep doing it.”

“Sweet and sad.”

“Yeah.” Harold says.

“Oh. You are back... what happened? I was told a friend of yours arrived to borrow you for a few minutes.” The Realtor says walking into the room and Harold nods.

“Yes, he had some concerns and I am the closest thing to an expert on the subject he can find.”

“... Did you cut someone Saint Redblade?”

“I cut through the nonsense and found out some fairly important things.” Harold notes with a shrug. Then his communicator finally goes off. He chuckles as he moves to answer it on speaker. “Expected that seconds after posting not minutes. Hell-”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE UNBORN HAVE SOULS!?!”

“I mean that if I focus I can see the adorable little souls of my babies.”

“Why didn’t you point this out or learn it before?!”

“I’ve had a LOT going on! Come to think of it I really should have noticed when the eggs Giria laid had the inner light of a soul to them too.”

“GAHH!”

“I’m so glad we can speak of things in such a calm and reasoned manner.”

“I HAVE CONTROL OF ARTILLERY BATTERIES!!”

“Bitch, I fucking dare you.”

“This building is not rated for artillery fire.” The Realtor says in a complete deadpan.

“That was the correct answer. So you’re going to have to hold off on the big guns.”

“When I’m through with you The Impaler will tell me to cool it!”

“Again. Bitch, I fucking dare you.”

“You can’t just drop that kind of information on us and completely fail to elaborate!”

“Sure I can! I’m on forced vacation! I’m not allowed to do more!”

“I will floss my teeth with your spine!”

“My friend, for... you know what? No. You’re some kind of Hippo person, this completely tracks.”

“A what?” Giria asks in amusement.

“OH, this is the voice of Marley Guur that’s screaming at me. He’s a Habdora, one of the most aggressive herbivores you’ll ever...”

“Oh them! What is one doing in Intelligence?” Giria asks.

“I will turn your ribs into toothpicks!” Marley screams.

“Calm down and...” Harold begins and there is a crunching noise as the call gets disconnected. “It’s good to hear that he’s getting such a good grasp on his temper.”

“That was a good grasp?”

“Oh yeah, he’s just threatening me and not trying to teleport in to kill.”

“What use is a man like that?”

“Hard reinforcements. Basically if a mission is going to shit or they need a big distraction, then suddenly a Habdora is nearby and breaking things.”

“... I am not familiar with the Habdora.”

“Not the tallest species, in fact Agatha is just a little less than twice as tall. But they’re rippled with a lot of muscle directly under a very dense layer of fat and extremely tough skin. You’ve seen some bits about us Undaunted right?”

“Yes.”

“Ever spot the men that have very prominent guts and seem to have a more squat frame despite being just as tall as the others around them?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a strongman build. Sheer brute force. I’m more an athletic build. Anyways, the Habdora havea natural strongman physique.”

“Strongman?”

“Human term for it. It’s all based around actual functional strength, so the muscle isn’t concentrated in the places that are traditionally seen as appealing. At least, not the way that other physiques are.” Harold explains.

“Okay but... in Intelligence? You are an Intelligence Officer correct?”

“Yep. Never underestimate how valuable a good distraction is.” Harold replies happily. Then he glances at the communicator again. “More spirit nonsense, news at eleven. Okay, so I’m not the only bit of... Oh The Flying Dog is just about back. Hopefully that ends well.”

“The what?”

“Ship testing the viability of transporting dangerous substances across the Axiom Lanes. Nothing wrong so far, but pray for luck anyways.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Just outside the Council Chamber, Satha Family Palace, Soben Ryd)•-•-•

Warli’Satha marches forward with great intention as she carries the documents with her. Why did no one else see it? Why did no one else understand? How could they ever be great without besting their enemies? The Rella had split from them long ago, they were their opposites, their enemies. They had to be beaten. Not killed. That was savagery. But beaten. Proven inferior. Proven that they were wrong for leaving the Satha and that there was nothing they could do about it now. That they were the dead weight that had kept the family down and without them the Satha would soar.

She enters her mother’s Council Chamber and finds her sitting, only mostly attentively, at the proceedings going on. She held her cloned and returned brother closely.

And that too is a great mess. One that the damnable Rella had also mimicked. She had seen the boy. Knew who they were a copy of. The weaponsmith son, Naird. Fire willing none of Satha blood will feel the sting of some absurd Sorcerous weapon.

Worse still, Bruna’Rella was there. She had seen the sorcerous double of Naird’Rella. She knew she had a weapon. But how to counter it without turning Torn’Satha’s double into a weapon himself? She cannot lower herself to that level, and must rise above it. But how does one stop a natural disaster without destroying the very thing you’re trying to protect?

Not easily. But nothing worthwhile ever comes easily.

She smiles at the sight of her sibling and he looks cautious. Wary. It’s good that he is. But he need not be wary of her. No doubt Bruna’Rella truly shattered her first impression. Damnable witch.

“Here you are mother, I have brought the relevant files from Magi’Wolr, she’s filing her own copy and merely needs your signature on this data slate to properly rename our recently recovered brother.” Warli’Satha says handing over the data-slate and then reaching out to ruffle the hair of Roob’Satha, but he flinches ever so and she frowns just a touch.

Damnation, how does one actually use diplomacy around a cautious sorcerer? Is it even possible?

It doesn’t matter. Possible or not. It has to be done. So she’ll find a way to do it.

“Nervous?” She asks him. Making sure he has his space and isn’t overwhelmed. He can blink out to another planet entirely, if she doesn’t let him have his space he’s going to be gone in a moment.

“About what?”

“Rejoining the family, adjusting from whatever... pit you were sleeping in as a Sorcerer, to say nothing of the madness before.”

“Silkcaps are soft and smell sweet though. They’re perfect for sleeping on.” Roob’Satha replies and she refrains from blinking rapidly to try and process that. No denial of being in a pit, no trying to downplay or upplay what happened. Just a note that it was more comfortable. Not expected, but she can use that.

“I will take your word for it. I am far from familiar with fungus.”

“It’s more than fungus. It’s animals too.” Roob’Satha says as he holds up what looks like a stone at first then after a little bit of angling reveals it has glowing blue skittering legs and a pair of pincers out the front. She kneels down to get a better look. Not missing the fact that mother is carefully watching this interaction with interest.

“And what is this little fellow?”

“What I was telling mom about a bit earlier. I’m different now. Very different because I’m part of something more. And this is part of that something. Another part.”

“A less important part I hope.”

“Uh... kinda? I do more for the Forest, but we’re both doing something for it.” Roob’Satha says pulling back the crab and rising it up to look directly into it’s eyes. He then holds it up and it skitters onto his head before sitting down with one pincer holding each of his horns. “We’re both needed, and both of us alone are just... an Apuk and a crab. But together we’re more.”

“Does your friend there have a name?”

“Animals don’t usually name themselves, not unless they’re really smart. This one thinks very little, mostly about... self. And more about food. Speaking of...” Roob’Satha explains before suddenly having a small treat in his right hand, he splits off a small piece and holds it up for the crab. It takes the scrap of dried meat and begins to eat with a gusto. He then breaks the remains in half and holds up a half for her. She takes it and pops it into her mouth without complaint. It’s near tasteless compared to something she could get in moments from the kitchens, far tougher than she likes and clearly something that’s sold on the cheap to the most common of common folk. But she still smiles wide as if it was the most delicious lalgarta feast she had ever had the pleasure to experience.

“Thank you little brother, now... I was hoping to get to know this you a little better. I’ve dealt with your larger brother quite a bit and I really want to know what makes you both so different beyond size... and the bigger one being a dope.”

“Warli.” Her mother chides her gently.

“Sorry mother. But he can be a bit silly.”

“It’s endearing.”

“Still silly.” She asserts and sees Roob’Satha smile. Step one, complete.

First Last

“Does that mean I will die too?!”

“Oh yes, we all will die one day. Even humans die, too!” She said, causing the class to break out in gasps of disbelief.

“But that’s not something you need to worry your little head about,” the Teacher followed up with a warm smile.

Construct 11 brought his hands up to his head and let out a warbled cry before falling into silence.

I probably would’ve had the exact same reaction if my mind wasn’t focused on a different aspect of this revelation. There must’ve been a way I could ask about it, but I simply didn’t know how.

Not knowing made me feel bad. Like I was doing something wrong compared to the others.

“The word you’re missing is ‘why.’ Try using it!” She said to me.

“…Why do we have to die?” I asked, finding this new word to be quite convenient.

The teacher thought to herself for a moment before answering, which caught many of the constructs’ attention. Getting the teacher to think was a rare achievement; it only happened once before, when Construct 17 asked the teacher how we were made.

“Dying is simply a culmination of life’s experiences,” She started. “Water will erode stone, the sun will degrade plastic, and radiation will scramble DNA itself. There just comes a time where matter yields.”

“Does that mean I should avoid water at all costs?!” Construct 4 asked frantically, as they were made solely from stone and neurons.

“Not at all,” the Teacher responded, striking confusion in all of us. “Stone is most beautiful when polished by water. There’s no greater sadness than to spend life not living it.”

This was perplexing information. It contradicted itself, it was irresponsible, it was shortsighted…and yet, it came from the teacher. Even if I contemplated this information for eons, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to understand.

Regardless, the answer I’d been given did not answer my question, as I’d asked the wrong question all together.

“But why was it decided that we have to die?” I asked. “If we were made to think, then why would we also be made to die? Aren’t those purposes conflicting?”

Any conversations between the other constructs had stopped by this point, as everyone placed their attention on my question. The teacher fell into thought once more, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was being greedy with my questions.

“Hmm…I don’t know.” The Teacher answered with a smile. “Maybe answering this question could be your aspiration, Construct 3!”

Complete silence blanketed the classroom, as if we’d momentarily returned to a state of oblivion. Even Construct 7’s perpetually spinning rings had slowed to a halt.

So it was true. There were things even the Teacher didn’t know.

“My aspiration…” I trailed off.

Wasn’t it too cruel? Wouldn’t it be so much better if we didn’t die? Who chose to make it this way? Why hasn’t anyone fixed it?

“…I’m going to fix it!” I announced, standing up from my desk to make a point.

“Remember to be clear, Construct 3. What are you going to fix?” The Teacher asked, narrowing her eyes at my words.

It made me take a step back, and think twice about what I was saying. Picking an aspiration was an important decision, and I knew that what I was doing could be seen as rash, but…I just couldn’t stand it.

If I was brought into this world for a reason, then this must’ve been that reason.

“My aspiration! I’m going to stop death from happening!” I claimed, puffing my chest up in defiance at the World.

And then the recess bell rang.

I turned around to see all the other constructs filtering out of the room. My friends, Constructs 4 and 5 had made their way to me before leaving.

“Come on, 3! Let’s go play!” 4 asked.

“Okay, okay. I’m going!” I responded, grabbing my backpack before following them out.

“Construct 3!” The Teacher called after me, causing me to turn around.

“Good luck!” She beamed.

James

The crowd’s far from the largest James has ever been in for a sporting event. The Crimson Tear doesn't have the space near Little Serbow - or, indeed, the population - to fit even two thousand people into the space around the tournament field for today's event. The ship’s massive, but there are limits to what they could do even with expanded space. Or, for that matter, want to do. Better to telecast the tournament and let everyone fill up the various bars and dining facilities with the in-person seating mostly reserved for members of the Apuk part of the ship's company. 

Or for special guests and senior officers that know how to 'make arrangements'... which was how James came to be here in person instead of getting a table at the Cannidor izakaya or another eatery he likes. He's always enjoyed in-person sporting events, and the ship doesn't really have organized sports leagues besides various types of martial arts and combat shooting. The latter isn't super thrilling to watch live in most of its incarnations; even three-gun, very popular as a competitive sport aboard the ship, is best watched from a comfortable seat with a holo projector and a pile of snacks. You get better angles and you’re just not missing out on the same energy that you get at a major sporting event. 

That you get at something like the Shellbreaker tournament on Serbow, apparently, or its miniature version here on the Crimson Tear. It just wouldn’t be the same on a holo vid. 

James isn't a huge fan of fight sports, but he does like American football, and the sounds of American football don't fully carry through when you watch the game on TV. From good seats at a football stadium, you could feel the impact of the two groups of linemen hitting each other like two herds of bison deciding to have a throwdown. You could hear the quarterback's pads 'pop' from a particularly brutal sack. Same deal with his other sport of choice, ice hockey. Whether he’s playing or watching, there’s something about one player checking another into the glass with bone-rattling intensity that simply doesn't make the transition across a television screen or holo projector. 

Just like some of the hits he’s hearing right now in the semi-finals. 

He can almost feel the rush of air as a particularly savage kick hammers home into one woman's gut, knocking the wind from her as the other woman's mighty boot caves in the front part of her shell. 

That could have been a victory right there, but the kicked woman snarls savagely, a low, guttural growl that sounds more appropriate to a wild animal than a person… or, perhaps more specifically, more like what James imagined a pissed-off dragon would sound like. She grabs the other woman's leg, and turns the kick into a lead-in for a suplex that shatters stone, leaving the first woman laid out flat as her original target starts to regain her feet! 

It’s all happening almost as fast as his eye can move, but the two combatants both weren't quite fast enough; the winner of the last round, a woman named Cari'Koren, dashes in more or less as soon as the two are fighting again and defeats both of them in the literal blink of an eye, supersonic cracks heralding each blow... but still indicating Cari'Koren is in fact moving slower than she had in the last round of the semi final. James is damn sure the woman had thrown at least one hypersonic punch, nevermind her green warfire. 

"Get 'em, Cari!" James's company for the night calls out enthusiastically. 

Rose isn't much for sports in general, not after some traumatic childhood memories regarding the European type of football… but Mahai is quite the fan of fight sports or martial sports in particular. It isn't that much different from football among the Cannidor, though there are a wide variety of leagues and types, ranging from the traditional and highly ritualized to modern underground brawling rings that lack any form of finesse or technique that any reputable Cannidor martial arts school would recognize or teach. There’s even a Cannidor cousin to American style professional wrestling. Scripted? Sure, but big personalities, bigger physiques, showy performances and death defying stunts mixed with dramatic plots and cheesy dialogue are a popular recipe just about anywhere, it seems. Even the refined, generally speaking, Apuk have their own equivalent to that sort of business. 

James looks over at the tawny furred blonde beauty and she eagerly meets his gaze, smiling at him with the signature Cannidor white and pearlies. 

Why, darling, what big teeth you have. 

Still, all the teeth in the world couldn't make Mahai any less attractive than the absolute bombshell she is... and she'd been getting fashion tips from Rose too, if James was willing to take a bet on it. Today's ensemble is a fetching sundress, one that showcases Mahai's long, athletic legs and show-stopping curves without being the slightest bit improper. He can tell just how stunning Mahai is, but there’s still plenty to see if they ever go that far together. Plenty to 'discover', plenty of 'mystery'. 

Like, there’s the slightest hint that Mahai has full-on abs to go with her generally tight core: something James could appreciate in the athletic farm girl. There are also the more base interests generated by thick hips, a round, supple ass - even slightly obscured by Mahai's mighty tail - and, of course, the abundance of what could only be called a massive chest. 

Rose is no slouch in terms of figure. His wild Scottish rose exercises aggressively, and the baby weight she can't get rid of is in all the right places; she had already been the most beautiful woman James had ever seen to this date, and now she’s a certified MILF. 

And ILF he does. One doesn't wind up with six children by the same woman by accident, after all. 

Still, Mahai has curves like no Human woman could, just on the sheer scale of her. With Rose opening them up to Mahai's courtship… well. Curiosity abounded. If it would hurt Rose, he wouldn't even consider it, but he has not only been allowed to consider Mahai as a potential lover, but encouraged even. So consider he has... and there’s a lot to consider. 

Even setting aside his more base lizard brain focused instincts and desires - and those certainly approve of Mahai as a potential candidate to sire more of his children on - which James finds interesting is how damn attractive he finds her. Mahai is pretty damn different from a Human woman, with her tail, fur, decidedly non-Human facial features and so forth. Yet. The lizard brain completely approves… as does James's subconscious, based on a few very interesting dreams he'd had recently. Mahai had even been wearing clothes in a lot of those dreams, which James considers a positive sign. Rose had featured in similar dreams when they'd met by chance and started their whirlwind, long-distance romance. It’s different with Mahai, but it still feels good. Warm. 

Another good sign in Jame's book. 

"Begin!"

The next round starts with a violent flash of green warfire across the arena, one woman summoning an entire river of fire and making James look away from the brightness of the green flames. Even from a safe distance, the dramatic increase of temperature starts him sweating and Mahai panting. 

To James' understanding, being able to call that much warfire, of any grade, takes a special level of combatant, even among battle princesses or contenders for a battle princess's crown. It’s also a bit of a gamble, as that kind of calling could leave a less experienced girl immobile - and, as he well knows, staying mobile in any fight is critical to survival. 

At first it seems the move has worked, however, with two shells being broken under the assault of armor-melting heat… but one of the survivors displays lightning fast reflexes to go on the attack instead of defend! 

It’s a damn good fight, and a damn enjoyable evening. 

By the time Cari'Koren is crowned one of two victors by Admiral Bridger and Princess Aquilar, James and Mahai have had a few drinks each and are both laughing happily as they wander towards home; Mahai, as a lady of good breeding, has to escort James back to Rose, of course. 

A thought that makes James chuckle, considering he’s the warrior around here. But it's not like it’s a hardship to spend more time with Mahai and... 

He stops suddenly as he spots another couple - or throuple, rather - heading towards home, considerably more drunk, and considerably more 'friendly' with each other. It’s appropriate in this case, as both the Apuk women getting more than a little handsy with the man in question are his wives. 

"Don't look now, but there's our illustrious leaders."

Mahai glances over and he can basically hear her blush. 

"Oh! Goodness. I don't think I ever expected the princess to be acting like that with the Admiral. Mrs. Masha, either. I've met all of them once or twice, and they're always so regal!"

"Well, love makes you act a little crazy every now and then, and I don't think anyone doubts that the Admiral loves his wives with a passion. And they love him in return." 

"True." 

Mahai glances after the retreating group again and sighs wistfully, which gives James a slight pang of jealousy. She’s here with him, isn't she? He doesn't have to compete with the admiral for his own girlfriend's attention, does he? 

Mahai, however, chases that errant and, in hindsight, somewhat silly thought away in an instant as she looks over and down at him, seeking out a deep, passionate eye contact with those big blue eyes of hers. 

"Do you think... We'll ever act like that? The three of us? Or even just you and me after a date? If we keep dating? Not that I want to presume or impose or anything, but I'm really enjoying spending time with you, Rose and the kids and well, it-"

"Ah." 

James resists chuckling. Mahai was envious, certainly, but not of the man the two Apuk warrior women were with - rather, of the relationship they shared with that man... and that’s fair enough, considering Mahai hasn't even been kissed before, and holding hands would probably be a fairly big deal for her. 

"Well... not to get your hopes up or anything..." James reaches out and casually takes Mahai's much larger hand. "If we do get together, though... I promise we'll have moments like that. All kinds. Cute. Romantic. Silly. It's a whole life to live together, after all, with Rosie and the kids."

Mahai looks over at him again, and then she looks away. A blush colors the skin around her eye, her tail wiggles violently, and she says, "You know, for someone who just promised not to get my hopes up, you're doing a terrible job."

"Heh. How can I make it up to you?"

"I can think of some ways, but we're not there just yet. So let's just say you owe me one for now, mister."

"Hmmm."

James considers that for a moment, getting just a bit of eye contact from a suddenly much shyer Mahai. 

"Alright. You're on. For now." 

The tone between them shifts ever so slightly, the warmth growing. This is new for both of them, but James certainly is enjoying seeing where all this is going!

Series Directory Last

My name is Ork. Ours is a Triple Star system. It’s a complex mess.

We are an advanced species and regularly scout for data and signals from other star systems to find useful resources and advanced species to regularly monitor them.

I have  been part of our signal analysis collective for about 300 cycles now. We decode transmissions, run pattern recognition, catalogue anomalies. Its a very logical profession. Very precise. I am considered one of the better analysts in my station, not boasting, just stating a observed fact, which is what we do.

Last week something came in.

The signal originated from a small rocky planet, third from its star, spiral arm of a unremarkable galaxy. We had been passively monitoring electromagnetic emissions from this region for some time. Mostly chaotic noise. Radio waves, some structured, most not. Nothing that warranted priority attention.

But this one was different. It was dense. Layered. But it did not warrant any action from our scout team because the species that inhabited the plant was primitive. The signal was given to be decode and dispossed. But I am curious, may be something there to decode. Why would someone painstakingly send a signal which requires massive energy from the perspective of an under developed specifies to the space? We are 23 light years away.

 The transmission was analyzed by Rue, our machine. And decoded but as per her, it did not carry any significant data that we were looking for. The decision was made to dispose it. But I wanted to see what the message was.

The species that sent it are bipedal. Bilaterally symmetrical. Mostly water. You know the type, we've catalogued a few. They call themselves many things depending on regional grouping but the dominant self-designation seems to be "humans." Moderate intelligence. Technologically adolescent. Still burning hydrocarbons for energy, bless them.

The recording itself was long. Extremely long.

The recording was in the electromagnetic spectrum which we are not entirely using. I had to do some adjustments to see it in our spectrum.

The recording showed, a young male human holding a even smaller quadruped. The audio in the signal was feeble. He introduced the quadruped as a “dog”.

Now,  the dog is a separate species entirely. Seemed to have Significantly lower cognitive capacity than the human. No technological contribution to their civilisation whatsoever. Completely dependent on humans for food and shelter.

From a resource allocation standpoint, the relationship makes very little sense.

The recording begins at what seems to be the dog's earliest days of life. It is very small. Its eyes are not yet functional. It makes irregular vocalizations. The boy, he appears to be in early developmental stage himself, perhaps a quarter through his expected lifespan . He holds the creature in both hands and just... looks at it.

He doesn't do anything particularly useful. He just looks at it.

His facial configuration does something  initially looked like a muscular anomaly. It took me a while to understand it was intentional.

The clips continue across what appears to be many of their solar years.

The dog grows. Becomes large and chaotic. It destroys several objects in the dwelling. The boy makes strange frequent noise, it what seems like a high pitched   vocal anomaly. They run together across open terrain. The dog falls into a body of water and emerges confused. The boy makes the strange sign again.

There is a period where the boy appears to transition into a older developmental stage. His physical dimensions change. His voice changes. He seems to go away for intervals. But every time he returns, the dog is waiting at the entry point of the dwelling.

Every. Single. Time.

I ran this pattern fourteen times because we thought it was a data loop. It wasn't.

Then the later segments.

The dog is old now. You can see it in the way it moves. The fur around its face has gone pale. It walks slowly. It sleeps most of the time. I am not able to comprehend why they are wasting their resources on a species that is at the very end of the life cycle. Our  system would incinerate the lifeform which doesn’t give any productive outcome and euthanize those that get old after cataloging their experiences into Rue.

The boy, now a fully developed adult male, sleeps on the floor next to it. Not in his designated rest area. On the floor. Because the dog can no longer climb to where the boy sleeps.

He brings it food by hand. He speaks to it constantly even though the dog cannot understand language in any meaningful cognitive sense. He strokes its fur for what our instruments calculate as hours at a time.

Near the end, the dog cannot stand. The boy lies beside it. He puts his forehead against the dogs forehead. He is producing liquid from his optical organs,  a stress response their bodies apparently generate under certain conditions.

The dog's tail moves. Very slowly. One last time.

Then it doesn't.

The boy stays there for a very long time after. He doesn't move. He doesn't do anything logical or productive. He just stays there with his forehead pressed to an animal that can no longer respond.

I have reviewed approximately 4,400 transmissions in my career.

I have never had to stop working and sit quietly for an extended period in the middle of an analysis.

I did this time.

Something happened in my processing during those final segments that I cannot fully explain and frankly it is embarrassing to admit because I am a scientist and I deal in explainations. There was a, weight. Somewhere that is not a physical location. A pressure that had no source. I kept returning to the image of the boy on the floor. I kept returning to the tail moving one last time.

I dont know what this is.

I consulted our entire medical and psychological database. The closest thing I can find is a concept documented in several civilisations at certain developmental stages. A response triggered not by personal experience of loss, but by witnessing it in another.

These creatures loved something smaller and simpler than themselves, completely and without reason, until it was gone. And then they sent it to the stars.

I think we should write back. For, it has triggered a new neurological response in me.

I am starting to see the nuances in our life which my species overlooks as it is a deterrent to our development. My species had suppressed the bonding for over a millenia to be more scientifically advanced and yet here I am starting to develop that repressed  neurological pattern once again.

I am not sure if I would be send to the incinerators next week when they do a biological scan for any anomaly. But I don’t really care for it anymor. The boy and the dog has given me something to cherish other than science and technology. It is beautiful, this feeling and I am going to live every moment of it before my memoties are achieved and my body incinerated.

Captain David Vimes of the UEC Devonshire was leaning forward in his chair willing the ship to go faster and reach the research outpost on Quirm before it was really too late.

'Ensign Jones how long until we arrive?'

'60 seconds captain.'

'Right as soon as we arrive go weapons hot and destroy any ship that isn't human and pray to any god you believe in we're not too late.'

The Devonshire exited the slipstream and instantly the crew could see the enemy ship sitting there and started firing on it with all weapons as instructed. Less than a minute later it was destroyed.

'Helm take us into orbit above the research station and start scanning for survivors barked the captain despite knowing that the chance was slim to find any.'

'Captain the research station is gone said Jones but we're getting a transmission from the planet.'

'On screen'

The viewscreen lit up to show a seriously injured man, blood dripping from a cut on his head, 1 eye missing and an arm hanging loosely at his side.

Sir can you hear me? asked David.

My name is Commander Tom Smith of the UEC if you're watching this hopefully the plan worked and the research is safe. I would advise destroying any ship that matches the scan that will be sent with this transmission. It is my hope that what you're seeing from space is a crater where the base used to be and that the planet is still habitable.

The attackers arrived two days ago and said they are part of the Pyclastic Dominion and we're to surrender ourselves along with all the research we have to them. Needless to say we refused and sent out a distress call expecting help quickly as we're in UEC territory but it sems they've been able to block it. The shields are failing but that will be their downfall.

The researchers here *cough* are absolute geniuses and have redesigned the shields so when they go down they inversely reboot meaning anything that comes in can't get out. They have all evacuated to the backup base in the mountains which all being well is where you'll find them. We believe that the enemy is not only jamming us but sending their planets a live video or at least constant updates *cough* and if this is true hopefully this will stop them from attacking again.

Computerised voice in the background *Shields failing. 1 minute until total failure and 3 minutes until reboot*

With a struggle Tom gets up and walks to a section of wall and removes a bottle of scotch from it and sits back in the chair facing the recorder.

I was hoping to drink this when I get back but no is a good a time as any to save wasting it.

*Shields failed 2 minutes until reboot*

Seems I don't have long left. Computer how long until my position is reached by the enemy?

*Approximate time to position being overrun if rooms are checked on the way 15 minutes if a direct route is taken 5 minutes'

Open all doors leading here and close all others. Play the old Earth song My Way by Frank Sinatra, original album version and set the self destruct to go at the end of the song

*With all doors open position will be overrun in 3 minutes 30 seconds. Please confirm all commands with security clearance.*

Confirm commands clearance Alpha-3-Delta-9-Omega-4

*Acknowledged. Self destruct will activate in 4 minutes 36 seconds*

Ahh I love this song I'm glad it'll be the last thing from Earth that I hear.

Tom raises the bottle to the screen 'To the health of whoever is watching this and the continuation of the human race' he starts singing along to the song.

Behind him a red figure comes into view. It's about 7 foot tall and seemingly made out of stone or wearing armour made to look like stone. 'Human!' it bellows 'Where are the people that were here and what is the meaning of this noise?'

Tom spins round in the chair 'I have been expecting you Mr Bond' he says

Who is this Mr Bond human?

It doesn't matter but to answer your previous questions they're gone and you won't be able to find them and this noise as you call it is a song. It's about a man who is happy with how his life went and is about to die.

We're not going to kill you yet. We have ways of making you talk and by the end you'll wish we killed you here.

Oh you won't kill me I'm already dead and this is my grave it is however big enough for two and you'll be joining me. The records show I took the blows and did it my way. Yes it was my way. Tom turns back to the camera and says 'Tell my family I love them and if I get considered a hero name a library after me'

As he is finishing the sentence there's a sound of explosions and the floor starts to rise up before the feed is cut off.

'Captain we're getting coordinates for a hidden base and the scans of the ship' said Ensign Jones

'Well don't just sit there people get the shuttles out to those coordinates and bring those people home'

*Authors note: This is my first attempt at anything like this so criticism is welcome and hopefully you don't find it too terrible*

First...Previous

Chapter 5
Taviri, Son of Lord Ralik

Their skin was wrong. That was the first coherent thought that crossed my mind as these creatures broke the treeline, armed with a litany of unfamiliar tools. White as paste and wrinkled in strange places, their outer skin looked dead against the forest backdrop. Behind a clear, glassy material, I could vaguely make out the outline of a more natural-looking head—still unfamiliar, but at least recognizably alive. Finally, after a few moments of baffled staring, I realized that the white skin was not skin at all but some kind of clothing.

Two of the figures stepped forth, one of them a good head shorter than the other and carrying a strange metal box. They worked at the little tool between them, and then the box itself spoke. “Friend. No run.” It affirmed in a broken approximation of our language, the taller of the two figures up front holding out their paws for us to see. Gloves made from a leathery smooth material covered their paws, but I could see that they lacked the webbing of a Rosha’s, like the river itself had rejected them.

“What are they?” Velo asked, looking at me as though I might have some kind of an idea. “Forest spirits?”

My whiskers twitched out a negative. “I don’t think so,” I told him, taking a shaky step closer to the creatures as curiosity briefly overpowered my caution. Mirroring my movement, two of the figures sidled up alongside the front ones. When they themselves spoke, it was in a tongue I’d never heard before—deep yet smooth, like distant thunder rolling in the midst of a heavy storm. “Why are you here?” I asked the group, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

At first, the creatures didn’t respond. It almost looked like they were waiting for something. Finally, their postures shifted as the meaning of my words seemed to reach them all at the same time. The smallest one, still nearly twice my size, took the box and began pressing their fingers down into the colorful bumps along its face. “Here for what here. See. Talk. No wrong.” The box said.

Positioning himself at my side with his knife at the ready, Velo cocked his head at the giants, as though not understanding what he was looking at. “What are you?” he asked. “Where are you from?”

Spotting the tool in my friend’s hand, the tallest of these creatures brandished a strange tool from his side—a hollow metal barrel connected to a handle. However, another of the creatures quickly placed their hand upon the barrel and directed it back to rest at the tallest one’s hip. One of the two who had stepped forth gently grabbed the box from the smallest one and pressed down upon its colorful studs. “Knife no. Friend.” After a pause, the box spoke again. “From high. Small sun. Many.” Raising their free hand over their head, they pointed at the sky above us.

“Many small suns…” I pondered the bizarre statement for a second, my eyes drifting upward as I imagined what the sky would look like with many tiny suns rather than just the one. Then I realized that I already knew. “You mean the stars? That’s where you’re from?”

“Yes.” The box affirmed after another brief period. “One of your stars our sun. Far away.”

Velo cocked his head as the information sank in. “Wait, so you’re saying the stars are just other suns further away?”

“Yes.” Affirmed the figures through the box. “Our sun Sol, our community Earth. Our people Humans.”

Carefully turning the strangers’ explanation over in my head, I remembered a conversation I’d had with the town star mapper. He had told me once that the planets wandering through the night sky were worlds like our own. I had at the time dismissed this as a fun bit of whimsy. “So you come from another sun you call Sol, and you call yourselves Humans. You said your community is Earth. Is that your nation or your world?”

“World,” the box replied before continuing to translate their language into our own. “What are you?”

“We are the Rosha,” I told them, taking a tentative step closer as I curiously peered past the glass barrier between one of their faces and my own. Other than a small patch on the top of their head, they didn’t seem to have much in the way of fur. “Our world is Althiir. My name is Taviri, son of Lord Ralik. This one beside me is Velo.”

The smallest of them seemed to recoil slightly at the mention of my father. “You are a lord? Sorry. Not know.” The smallest of the group bent their body downward, their eyes just about level with mine as I peered into them. Behind the shortest one, two others in the group joined in.

The gesture didn’t make any sense to me. Were they trying not to frighten me? Because if so, they’d certainly done poor work with the introduction. “Why are you bending like that?” I asked them.

The one in front accepted the tool from the shorter one and typed into it. “You are noble. Have purpose.” The box paused for another few seconds before eventually spitting out. “You lord pup. We talk to lord?”

“I think they’re looking for your father,” Velo said behind me. “At least that would make sense. He’ll probably want to say hello anyway.”

Somewhere inside me, there remained a visceral sort of fear standing before these massive creatures. Then again, they’d given us no indicator that they wanted to do harm, so it seemed right to give them the assumption of best intentions. And if they did prove to wish harm on us, it'd be better to face them with the whole community than with just Velo and I. Straightening out my posture, I gestured with a paw in the direction of where we’d come from. “He lives in town. If you’d like, you can follow us there.” I affirmed. 

The Humans glanced at each other, then after a few seconds they had the box respond again. “We follow. Speak with noble.”

I’ll admit I didn’t feel great about turning my back to these creatures, even if they’d mostly been peaceful. “Is it okay if my friend walks behind you?” I asked them, glancing nervously at Velo. “At least beside one of your people?”

The tallest of the Humans let out a curt bark, only to receive a glare from the shortest as they debated amongst themselves in their strange tongue. At last, once their conversation came to an end, the box supplied us with their answer. “Friend no knife,” it insisted. “Then he follow.”

“Velo, hand me your hunting knife please,” I said, holding out my paw to him. 

Velo looked like he was about to protest for a moment, but instead conceded without a word as he handed me his sole weapon. “If this goes bad and they kill us,” he muttered. “I’d better see you on the judging stand to let me into Nevah.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I began, my tail swishing snidely back and forth. “I’m much faster than you, so if they do kill us, I won’t be first and it’ll be you on the judging stand.”

Walking along the riverside in the direction of town, I felt the entities’ eyes digging into the back of my neck like a river devil’s jaws as they followed close behind. “So,” I began, trying to sound as even-toned as possible just like father always did when speaking with guests. “Do you have names?”

The shortest one gently acquired the box and pointed at themselves as it spoke. “Isla,” it proclaimed before the Human handed it off to the next group member.

“Harrison.” 

“Parker.”

“Cora.”

“Ian.”

I wasn’t sure I’d remember all the names, but it was a good sign that they were willing to give them anyway.

“You said the stars in the night sky are suns,” Velo said from behind them. “Is every star someone else’s sun?”

The one that had introduced themselves as Cora retrieved the box next. “Every star sun. Not every star have world. Not every world have someone”

“Why were you hiding in the trees?” I asked them, glancing back at the bizarre group for a moment as I nearly tripped over a small bump in the road. “And why are you wearing those masks? Is the air on your world different from ours?”

“Box need words to talk,” affirmed one of the Humans—Harrison, I think—through the box. “We not know your words.”

After them, the one they called Parker snatched the tool and began to speak through it. “Air not know. Maybe hurt.”

“Hurt?” I probed, hoping for some more clarification. “Would you not be able to breathe? Could it make you sick?”

“Can breathe. Maybe sick. Not know,” they clarified. 

From there, our walk to town settled into an unfamiliar but recognizable pattern. Every once in a while, one of the Humans would point to something on or around the road, and Velo or myself would tell them the name for it. As time went on, their words became somewhat clearer—like the box they were using was learning our language little by little. 

“How did you get here from your world, Earth?” Velo asked, his whiskers twitching curiously. “Did you fly here?”

Up ahead, beached upon the riverbank, I saw old man Wuso’s little fishing canoe. The Human holding the box was quick to point it out. “That’s a boat…” I explained.

“We get here in sky boat,” explained the one I think was Cora, before kneeling down and digging their finger into the ground, leaving behind a cavity in the dirt road. “What this?”

“That’s a hole,” I told them.

“We made hole in sky. From Sol to here. Sky boat bring us.” While the words themselves made sense in some fashion, I still couldn’t quite fish out what the Human was trying to explain. All I knew was that they came to this world in some kind of flying ship.

“Your town name is what?” Isla asked us.

“Tathar,” I told them, pausing for a moment to correct a road sign that had tilted to its side.

“Your father own Tathar?” They asked. 

Carefully adjusting the sign arrow so they pointed where they needed to go, I thought about the question for a second. “I think ‘own’ might be the wrong word,” I replied, trying to think of how to explain it. “I mean, he makes important decisions and I guess he’s in charge, but it’s not like the town is his property.”

The answer seemed to surprise the Humans. For a second, they talked amongst themselves in their strange language. “If lord does not own it, then who?” The box finally spat out at Harrison’s behest.

“I guess it’s owned by all the Rosha who live here,” Velo chirped from behind us. 

It seemed like it took a moment for that to properly sink in among the Humans. As most of them contemplated it, the tallest, Ian, grabbed the talking box and typed into it. “Why bring knife?” They asked.

“It’s mostly just a tool for gutting the fish,” I explained, retrieving Velo’s knife and holding it gently in both hands. “It’s also good in an emergency against a river devil.”

“What is a river devil?” Asked Harrison through the box. “Bad river spirit?”

My whiskers twitched negatively. “Not spirits. Just animals. They’re big and they like to eat Rosha. We don’t see them much around here anymore—when we do find them, hunting parties either kill them or chase them off.”

Just up ahead on the outskirts of Tathar, where stone walls reached a few Rosha tall, I recognized the guard tower set up by the main road. One of the Rosha atop the tower spotted the Humans and preemptively loaded a smooth stone into his sling. Then he spotted me. “Young lord Taviri?” He shouted to me. “What are those creatures behind you?”

“Not enemies,” I shouted out to him. “Not yet at least. They want to talk to my father. Can you folks escort us to the bell tower?”

The guard hesitated for a second, but ultimately acquiesced to my asking, sending six guards to surround us as we entered into the city proper.

Previous / First

Writer's note: There isn't an American Military Post in existence that doesn't absolutely sell mountains of tornados. Best combo, a pepperoni and a pepper jack that you eat at the same time with a coffee monster.

Enjoy.

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

Lord Ekron's eyes rolled as he sat at his desk and read the week's paper.

>PETRAVIANS IN THE ACADEMY!!!
ARE OUR FUTURE LEADERS BEING CORRUPTED?

He skipped that story and turned the page.

Aaaand saw more about Choi.

>Monsters in the city?
How a new academy teacher is changing Monsterology.

He looked at the adjacent page and his hands flexed, creasing the sides of the page.

>Sniv's curiosities sold.
New foreign-run shop opening on corner of Daedra and Shopper's lane.

Ekron gambled on Choi NOT being on the next page and turned to it.

Only to see an artists rendition of a very recognizable dragon swooping down toward the academy.

He didn't bother looking at the title, knowing it was the continuation from the previous pages.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

"Yes who is it?" He said with mild annoyance as he already knew who was knocking on his door. It wasn't normal for his assistant to interrupt his morning time. So he knew it was something at least mildly important.

The door cracked just enough for Thirfin to poke his dwarvish head in.

"A request from the Earth embassy sir." He said uncertainly. "They desire your presence for a communication request. Though they were adamant that it was at YOUR availability sir."

Ekron took a deep steadying breath as he discarded the paper that he was now certain he wouldn't read.

"Is it regarding Mister Choi?" He asked, his eyes glazed over.

Thirfin's eyes squinted as his eyebrows rose.

"Yes and no?" He said, causing Ekron to actually look at him curiously. "It's not the Mister Choi who's HERE.... sir."

At that Ekron actually expressed interest. "Oh?" He wondered.

"Arch Mage Choi, of Petravia, has requested an audience utilizing one of the Embassy speaking rooms." Thirfin informed him.

"Ah." Ekron said. "Thank you Thirfin. I'll... I'll go there today."

"Yes sir." Thirfin said with a small smile. "Anything I can get you sir?"

"No that will be all. Thank you." Ekron replied.

Thirfin nodded and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Ekron leaned back in his chair.

So Joseph actually wanted to speak? Directy. For the first time since they'd last seen eachother nearly twenty years before.

Interesting.

Ekron stood up and summoned his Lordly Mage robes from the nearby rack with a wave of his hands.

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

"You sure you're ready for this?" Joel asked

Mazze took a deep breath. It was very obvious that he was uncomfortable outside of his Cobalt Legion armor.

"Yes." He said simply.

Joel nodded. He gestured for Mazze to fallow him as he began walking toward the Embassy main gate.

He was still a little in awe at the half orc's size. He knew that armor didn't add as much to a person's size as media made it seem. But the Legionnaire was still remarkably tall and muscularly built. And if he were a woman, or even just into guys, the half orc's brilliant purple eyes would be very distracting. Even though they simply marked him as being very closely descended from a Kragg Orc.

A few minutes later, and with Joel guiding him through the guest sign in process, they were inside the Embassy and being escorted to one of the conference rooms where a tubular display projector would allow them to speak with Joel's dad via "hologram". Really it was just a projector on some lightly hazed glass.

"You've been allotted one hour." The Marine sergeant escorting them said. "After that the satellite goes out of window and we're on Gate signal only. As always the room is recorded for security purposes." He said as he opened the door for them. "Let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you." Joel said.

"Yes. Thank you very much." Mazze said, surprised the Marine spoke his language.

"No problem." The Marine said with a nod before departing.

Joel turned to Mazze, who looked at him curiously.

"First few minutes are gonna be me catching up with my dad." He said. "Nothin' crazy. Just haven't gotten to talk to him since I got to the city."

Mazze nodded. That made sense.

"After that I'll turn it over to you. They CAN censor the feed if either of you start talking about anything against the rules. But it usually takes a minute to kick in." Joel whispered as he leaned in conspiratorially. "My dad's pretty easy to get rambling about stuff if he finds it interesting. So if you wanna slyly wheedle some info out of him. That's your prerogative mister legionnaire."

Mazze's eyebrows drew together as he understood what he was hearing.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked, confused.

Joel shrugged.

"My family has a historically bad case of not-liking-government-itis." He said with a sly grin. "We won't blatantly say fuck you Mr. president.. But we will like.... give em the finger. You know."

Mazze looked at him in confusion.

Then Joel walked in and pressed his thumb to the terminal's print scanner.

The hologram tube lit up and showed the spinning wheel of trying to connect.

A few seconds later he was looking at a slightly grayed out version of his dad. Though the display made his antlers look warped and distorted.

"Jelly Bean!" His dad said with a huge grin. "How are you buddy? How's the city? Kinda messy right?"

Mazze began circling the display and Joel watched as his dad noticed it and followed him with his eyes.

"Ha!" Joel laughed. "Yeah that mage sector was a hot mess." Then he pointed at his head. "Those gray hairs are gettin' worse old man."

His dad rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me." He said. "Your mom keeps bugging me about siphoning some energy. But I told her it doesn't work. Anyways how's the academy? You fitting in alright?"

"Oh it's great." Joel replied. "Got the office set up. Got the first few animals moved into the facility. Classes are great. The students are really smart."

"That's good." His dad said with a grin. "Knew you'd do well." Then he turned to where Mazze was closely inspecting his antlers. "I assume this is the person you asked me about?"

"It is." Joel said as he gestured for Mazze to step near him. "Dad this is captain Mazze of the Cobalt Legion."

Joseph Choi turned to address the tall half arc directly.

"It's nice to meet you." He said to Mazze. "I understand you have some questions. I... don't know how much I can tell you. But... I'm all yours."

"And you sir. I imagine talking to Petravia's Arch Mage will be quite a big deal for my higher ups." Mazze said.

Off to the side, Joel nodded and stepped out of the room. He'd decided to do that earlier. This was Mazze and his father's business, not his.

Once outside he sought out the nearest direction sign and headed to the embassy commissary.

And about ten minutes later he was on his way back with a bag full of candy and energy drinks, which he'd been missing since he'd left home.

He was more than a little surprised when he rounded the corner and almost ran over his boss.

"Lord Ekron?" He asked as he nimbly dodged around the elder mage.

Ekron stood rooted as he took a deep breath and braced himself.

"It seems I can't avoid you today Mister Choi." He said after a moment.

Joel looked at him in confusion at that.

"What are you doing here sir?" He asked. "In fact, how'd you get into the embassy?"

"I have a digital meeting with your father." The lord replied. "And I've got an As-Needed guest pass for when I have business here." Then he looked at Joel. "What are YOU doing here?" He countered.

Joel shrugged. "Pretty much the same." He answered. Then he held up the bag. "My dad's talking to someone. Want a snack while we wait?"

Lord Ekron looked at the bag curiously. "Do you have one of those Tornados?" He asked.

Joel's head tilted, almost like a dog. Then he looked into his bag even though he already knew its contents.

"Uh.... no... How do you know about Tornados?" He asked in surprise.

Got the writing bug again. Enjoy.

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

The cabin sat up high, past where the roads gave out and the maps stopped caring. It was nine thousand feet up on a chunk of granite and boreal pine. You didn't stumble onto it; you either knew the way, or you had no business being there. Elias didn't like neighbors, so the arrangement worked just fine.

Mornings were always slow on the ridge. The chill seeped right through the floorboards, and the sun struck his windows long before the valley below ever tasted the light. This morning was no different.

Elias sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his blanket to work some feeling back into his scarred hands.

"Alright," he muttered, his breath visible in the cold. "Let's go."

His hip answered first. A deep, grinding reminder of a long career. He stood anyway.

By the time the sun broke over the jagged peaks to bleed orange across the valley, he was out on the porch. He held his coffee in his left hand, watching some junk on his tablet and taking in the crisp air. A heavy dog pressed her side against his leg, soaking up his heat.

"Morning, pup," Elias said.

Valka huffed and made a sound somewhere between a groan and a moo, blowing a warm puff of air against his worn denim. Her heavy ears airplaned out to the sides, a goofy, wide grin breaking the stoic lines of her face just for him. It was the same dumb look she'd given him since she was eight weeks old, tumbling over his daughter's shoes in the hallway of a house that didn't exist anymore.

Ten years old. An Old Earth breed, an American Akita. Her muzzle had gone white, and she was slower to rise these days, but she was entirely solid muscle and loyalty.

Elias nodded once and stood to ladle out her breakfast. "Bet you're hungry, girl," he said, spooning bland eggs and bacon into her bowl before returning to his bench.

The radio crackled faintly from the table inside, static cutting through the air. A frantic, clipped voice he didn't recognize was calling for an emergency evac somewhere far down in the sprawl.

Elias listened for half a second, then reached inside and shut it off.

"Not today."

-------------------------------

It was a simple Tuesday when it happened. There was no warning, no buildup. Just a sudden, deafening crack of multiple sonic booms directly overhead as the alien drop pods and ordnance fell from the skies.

Valka noticed first. Her head snapped up, Spitz ears pricked forward on high alert, white-rimmed eyes focused on the strange new noise. A low, rumbling growl vibrated deep in her chest.

Elias followed her gaze to the horizon.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I see it, girl."

The first deep violet streak came down over the far ridge, the chitinous drop pods tearing a jagged, burning line through the atmosphere. It impacted and the ground shook before it dispersed its cargo. More came, landing in the surrounding cityscape at the base of the mountain and off towards the horizon. There were dozens at first, and the number quickly grew into the hundreds. The screaming streaks of purple fire turning the morning dark with smoke from their descent.

The valley lit up in rolling waves of orange and black, fire and smoke spreading quickly around the impact sites. But none fell towards the mountain. The monolith was mostly uninhabited and not of strategic importance.

Elias didn't move. He didn't reach for a rifle or a go-bag. He just sat there, sipping his coffee and watching the world burn from the nosebleeds.

"Figures," he said.

Valka leaned harder into him, a low whine escaping her throat. Elias gave her a heavy, slow scratch right behind the ear, her mouth opening happily as she leaned into it.

"It's alright, Valka."

He didn't get up. He just watched from his high cabin as the colony burned below.

-------------------------------------

Three weeks passed, and the world ended down in the valley in plumes of smoke and ash. Up here, it remained simple. Wood, water, routine, Valka. It was all he needed. All he wanted. He was content to ignore the happenings below so long as he was left alone.

Elias was splitting kindling one morning. His axe bit deep into the pine, but he paused halfway through the next swing as a distant, unnatural light flashed across the gray horizon. He watched it fade into a sickening green hue.

"Looks like they're still at it," he said, leaning on the handle.

Valka didn't look up from the bone she was working over. Good.

Sometimes at night, things moved across the stars. Things that didn't blink like satellites and didn't fit any Terran profile. They were massive and wrong, large blocky things dominating the skies.

Elias stepped out onto the porch once, the freezing air biting his lungs, and watched a colossal shadow blot out the moon.

"Big fuckers," he muttered.

He stayed there a while, watching it transition across the sky, his hand resting on Valka's broad head. Then he went back inside.

"Not my problem." He lied to himself.                                                                                       

-----------------------------------------------

It happened just past noon the next day. As he was enjoying an afternoon snifter of good scotch, the air went totally silent and far too still.

Valka went rigid. It wasn't curiosity, and it wasn't her usual alert. She was locked in on something in the dense trees. Her hackles raised from her neck to the base of her tail.

Elias saw the shift in her posture and the bared teeth immediately.

"Easy," he said, already moving, his voice a flat, calm anchor.

The rifle stayed on the wall hook inside. It was too far away. His hand slid under the porch swing instead, coming up with something shorter and heavier. Familiar black steel.

"Alright," he murmured, thumbing the safety. "Let's see." He crouched low to break up his figure with the fencing on his porch, his bad hip screaming obscenities at him as he did so.

The woods parted. Three of them stepped through the brush like they didn't care about stealth. They were too tall and too smooth, scaled plates shifting under gray environmental suits.

They spread out with no wasted motion. A group of professionals.

Elias watched from the shadows of the porch. He didn't rush. He let them close the gap.

"Hunters," he said quietly.

Then he moved.

The first one dropped before it knew what was happening, its skull caved in by a heavy suppressed round.

The second turned, alien eyes going wide, but not fast enough. It fell backward, chest plate shattered, dark fluid spraying the dirt.

The third was fast. Faster than the others. Its strange, multi-barreled weapon whipped around, drawing a bead on Elias.

Elias shifted violently to evade and his damaged hip screamed—a blinding spike of agony from an old, deep-set injury.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered through gritted teeth at the protesting joint. He rolled, but Valka was already in the air. Ten years old, and she launched herself like a heat-seeking missile. Ninety-five pounds of protective fury. A guttural roar tore from her throat as she hit the third alien high. Her jaws clamped viciously onto the arm holding the weapon, her teeth sinking right through the suit into whatever meat was underneath.

The alien staggered and thrashed wildly at the unexpected canine. It let out a sharp, clicking shriek, trying to shake her loose.

Valka held on. Shaking her head, ripping, throwing her entire weight around to pull the thing off balance. Refusing to let go.

"NO!" Elias yelled.

Too late.

The alien brought its other arm around in a brutal, sweeping arc. The sound of the impact was sickening, and Valka hit the cabin wall. She hit it hard enough that the wood splintered behind her.

The sound she made was devastating. It was thin, high, and pitiful. It cut through everything Elias had left in him.

The alien turned, ripping its torn arm back. It grabbed it, using its other arm to support the damaged limb, its mandibles clicking in furious, wet spasms as the wounded creature slowly brought its weapon to bear.

Elias stood. It wasn't fast, but it was efficient, and the cold hatred in his eyes gave the alien pause.

He closed the distance before the alien could draw a bead on him, ignoring the gun entirely. He grabbed the creature by its throat and armor plating, squeezed, and slammed it into the dirt. He beat it with his free hand until it stopped moving altogether.

He didn't check to confirm the job was done. He had other concerns. Kicking the thing in its head, he quickly turned and dropped to his knees beside his dog.

"Hey," he said, his voice stripped of its previous calm. "Hey, stay with me."

Valka's breath hitched in a bubbling, ragged gasp. The angle of her ribs was wrong. The way she lay against the cold dirt was wrong.

Although the situation had him panicked, Elias's hands moved fast and practiced, carefully working through the blood and fur.

"Easy, girl," he murmured. "Easy. I've got you."

Pressure first, then find the break. Keep the airway clear. Wrap tight enough to hold, loose enough to let her breathe. Hands that had patched up worse running on pure muscle memory.

Valka's golden eyes flicked toward him. They were cloudy with pain, but focused. She was still there.

"That's it," Elias said quietly, pressing his palm over her racing heart. "Stay with me, darlin'."

"You ain't dyin today," he whispered.

---------------------------------------------------

By the time the sun dropped and the cold truly set in, Valka was inside, wrapped tight in gauze and Elias's heavy shirt. Her breathing was shallow, but it was steady. She was holding on.

Elias sat on the floor beside her, one hand buried deep in her ruff. Listening to the wind howl outside. Counting her breaths.

"Good girl," he said softly.

He looked at the old dog, stoic as ever even in the face of death. Then, quieter, laced with something heavy: "I should've been faster."

He didn't get an answer, but he didn't expect one. The single, slow thump of her tail against the rug was reply enough.

When he was absolutely sure she was stable, Elias stood up.

He checked Valka's water bowl. It was full. The passive melt from the snow tank on the roof dripped steadily into the basin beside it. She wouldn't go dry.

The heavy oak table screeched as he pushed it aside. He pulled up the floorboards, the wood groaning against the nails, to reveal the long, dust-covered case waiting in the dark.

He stared at it for a long moment, the silence of the cabin pressing in around him.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Guess we're doing this again."

The latches snapped open, sounding like gunshots in the quiet room.

Inside was everything he used to be. The dull gray powered armor of his Sirius Wars days. Environmental seals. Heavy ordnance. Ammo was sparse, but it should be enough.

He meticulously checked the contents of the box, piece by piece. Diagnostic checks, locking seals, loading. He didn't rush, but he acted without hesitation. He checked the action on the old mag rifle. The muscle memory was perfect.

"Still works," he murmured, cycling it.

From the other room, Valka made a low, pained sound. Elias stopped, walked over, and knelt beside her.

"Gonna step out, hun," he said. Calm, normal. Like he was just grabbing firewood from the porch. "Just for a bit."

Valka's tail thumped again. Weak, but there.

Elias leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, feeling her body heat, listening to her breathe as he gently scratched behind her ears.

"Hold," he commanded quietly. "Watch the house."

He stood and stepped outside into the freezing dark. He didn't notice the cold; his suit was already powering up with a low, sub-audible hum, keeping back the chill with environmental conditioning.

The mountain waited. Down below, in the valley where the world had ended, something moved that didn't belong. Fires stretched for miles, burning in careful, methodical grids.

Elias adjusted the heavy rifle in his gauntlets, letting the suit take the brutal, familiar weight of it.

"Alright," he said, his voice flat and certain. "Let's go talk."

 

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—

This was possibly the best sleep Tobby’d had in a long… long time. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this at peace either. If anyone asked, Tobby’d blame it on the documentary he was watching, since the narrator had one of those super sleepy voices that could knock anybody out. But deep down, he knew the real reason lay next to him.

The odd warmth and the heavenly scent were such that the intrusive thoughts and vivid memories of killing Clard became but a haze in their wake.

Not the warmth like from his injuries, but a softer, more inviting, and Soapy-shaped warmth the unconscious shi seemed intent on providing. Tobby wasn’t going to argue… how could he? She was still out cold.

As much as he’d give to enjoy this feeling all day, there was one itty-bitty, teeny-weeny problem. It was noon. Tobby’d woken up about an hour ago, but Soapy, with her night-kin sleep schedule, was dead to the world.

Was he going to wake her? No… but she was still wrapped around him, giving him no hope of escaping any time soon. Was he going to tell her that she was an unholy halfbreed of both ugly and messy sleeper? Also no. Because he still valued his life a little. That, and he found her disheveled state absolutely adorable. The cute face of the ‘big bad shi-kai’ that’d been nuzzling him all night was now snore-drooling on his shoulder.

That was the only unpleasant part about this! Wet, cold, drooly shoulder… he shivered.

The sheets were a mess, her mane/hair was a mess, and the less said about the state of both their clothes, the better. What’s worse, every time he tried to move, she squeezed him a little tighter, and his ribs, mildly recovered as they were, did not like that! “Soapy…?”

“Mghh… Zzz….”

“Soapy.”

“Nuh you… Zzz…”

“It's already noon…”

“Yeh... am... spoohn yuh... Zzz…”

It’s hopeless; he could only pray to the patron spirits that he didn’t need to use the bathroom in the next… he glanced over at his assistant. Four hours.

At least that was the plan until somebody slammed the door to his room open without warning. “Hey sluts! I brought lunch!” Cheered a certain pink menace with takeout boxes tucked under her arms.

Spontaneously appearing Pinkys were something Tobby had grown quite used to. Unfortunately, his guard couldn’t have been lower short of him being naked in the shower. So cue two startled, screaming shasians. One was scurrying off her side of the bed to hide, and the other was sitting up and covering himself with the sheets like that somehow did anything.

Pinky, armed with her gym shorts and a ‘captain/ambassador’ badge pinned to the shoulder strap of her tank top, looked mildly confused at first, but quickly slipped into dirty-minded smugness. “Oh~ Am I interrupting or-” She led, glancing around the room before her expression shifted to one of crippling disappointment. “Apparently not... boo,” she pouted.

“Pinky!”

“Don’t you ‘Pinky’ me! What am I supposed to assume when you scream like that? Your girlfriend’s literally hiding behind the bed!” A reasonable question from an unreasonable person! One that would go unanswered as she ducked under an incoming pillow.

“You don't assume shit! Get out!” Soapy hissed, torn somewhere between fury and mortification. He hadn’t seen her that red since... two days ago, actually. Wow, a lot has happened this week…

A sane person would see a livid night-kin and promptly flee for fear of getting their throat slit, but there was a new problem: Someone just told Pinky what to do. Which never flies well.

“Mmmake me!” She challenged, glaring back before side-stepping another pillow, this one thrown by a surprisingly brave Tobby.

“No fighting! Either of you!” Now he was the one giving the orders. “Soapy, she’s not going to tell a soul. Breathe.” He then turned to Pinky. “Pinky, you saw nothing! Understand? Nuh-thing~” He enunciated and even gave a few directed ear flicks towards Soapy to emphasize his point.

Pinky still pouted and gently kicked the pillows back into the room. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I didn’t walk in on the gang kitty cuddling her favorite toy.”

Soapy’s answer was just to glare, mrowl, and have her pretty white claws unsheathe from her upturned fingers. Tobby swore he heard that ‘shing!’ sound again.

“Soapy… put those away,” he scolded, whipping out the mom voice from the safety of Soapy hopefully considering him too cute to maim. “You know full well Pinky doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, seriously, I get it.” Pinky broke back in with a disturbingly unusual degree of sincerity to Tobby. “Jek does the same thing whenever he gets caught being cute, just less claws and more hiding. He was a ghost after Fenna opened an admin comm-channel to my quarters and caught him mid getting lost in the snuggie sauce.”

‘Lost in the snuggie sauce’ was not a sentence Tobby ever thought he would hear in his whole life… but here he was. What's worse is that it felt like a good descriptor for what Soapy had been doing too... Was it a night-kin thing?

“Fortunately, it was Fenna on the other end of the call, so-”

“The snow-kin that was getting her back blown out by the Gatorgi member?” Soapy questioned, ear askew.

“Yeah, her! Must have been amazing too, cause I actually heard her happy sigh yesterday. You have any idea how rare that is for a deadpan snow-kin sciencey type?”

Some part of Tobby’s mind skipped a little there. “Snow-kin? Gatogri member?” He questioned, looking back and forth between the two repeatedly as if context would magically appear.

Soapy’s attention quickly flitted back to Tobby, her claws slowly retracting. “Oh, right, you weren’t there for that.”

“He was busy squeezing his cute ass into those shorts I got him~” Pinky chimed proudly.

“Pinky!” He whined.

“Well, she’s not wrong...” Soapy commented, looking off towards wherever the memory formed in her mind. “Never would have guessed that the nerd who nearly wet himself day one knew how to work a stripper pole. Some people are just full of surprises.”

While he was glad Soapy’d calmed down from her startled awake fury, he felt this story was due some correcting. “I did not nearly wet myself!”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

"Did too!"

“Daww, you two are fighting~” Pinky giggled before another much shorter figure slid into the room.

Hunched and clad in his doctor’s coat, Dr Meeb slid to a stop, scanning for targets and taking numerous battle poses with a yard-stick he was wielding like a two-handed blade. “Where are they!? Who’s harming my lore-rich patient!?”

The doctor’s priorities were clearly in order…

—

Half an hour later…

“What did you say all this stuff was?” Tobby asked as he looked over the assortment of flimsy black-foam takeout boxes spread atop the picnic table. The spaceport had a little park thing attached to the edge of what passed for a food court. Far enough away from the launching ships to not be deafened when they took off, but close enough to enjoy the street-market the humans had formed from their own parked ships.

“‘Human barbecue.’” Pinky answered, “A copious amount of it, according to the one making it all. He seemed pretty trustworthy on the matter since he was cooking it all over a sawed-open metal drum.”

Dr Meeb looked down at the yay-big and spiced-to-hell crustacean held between his hands. “I have my doubts this vent-crab looking thing is made of human… Unless the humans are secretly flesh-mechs being piloted by cannibalistic crab things.”

“The fact you seem to be considering that reality concerns me.” Soapy squinted.

“Nothing is impossible! Just not very likely.” Meeb cheered before he bit down on the crustacean with a loud, shell-shattering crunch that made the other three wince.

Every single one of Tobby’s teeth hurt at just the idea of biting through a shell like that. His brain may know Zarmians are omnivorous with a bias towards insectivory, thus no issue biting through shells, but his teeth didn't know that. Thank Ardon none of the other food seemed to have shells.

“No, it’s not made of people, unless beef, pork, and chicken are phenotypes of human I've never encountered before,” Movva said as she began browsing her options.

Tobby wasn't going to argue; everyone except maybe Dr Meeb hadn’t had proper food in two days. The issue was what to try first. “Hey, Soapy, what are you picking-” He stopped as what sat next to him was not Soapy, but some ancient spirit of hunger ripping into a rack of ribs like she hadn’t eaten in days... Oh wait...

Pinky looked just as concerned by the sight when they exchanged glances. “I guess she’s hungry.”

On the other claw, Dr Meeb started… crying? Tears rolled down from the corners of his big, closed eyes as he chewed. “I haven’t had vent crab in so looong~” he whined happily, doing a little wiggle. “And this one’s been spiced and boiled~! Ehehehe!”

Tobby looked back at the collection, strange and unknown meat as it was, there were still a few things he recognized. Like the sausages in the mix, much larger than the snack ones at home, but his hunger was defenestrating his concerns one by one.

He reached for it when Tobby was rapidly reminded of his wounded state. As per the doctor's insistence, his shot arm was now resting in a sling, much as Soapy did when it happened to her. On the side of his working arm, though, were the claw wounds in his side. He still had most of his full range of motion, but still winced and hissed when he reached.

Tobby was about to try again when Soapy suddenly broke from her flesh-ripping frenzy to reach over and slide the box of sausages to him.

Pinky looked like she was about to ‘daww~’ at the selfless gesture, if not for the little mrowl Soapy gave her after.

Well, that was nice of her, “Thank-” was all Tobby got out before dark and sauce-smeared claws darted back to yoink one of the sausages. He sighed, for his fate was clear; he’d die of starvation before he died of old age. And he wasn’t even mad about it.

The group feasted like they hadn’t eaten in days, which they hadn't, and didn't stop until Dr Meeb was laid out surrounded by the shattered remains of a half dozen crabs. Soapy had a small mountain of bones mixed with used napkins from how messy her claws got. Tobby was full of mystery meat, and Pinky just looked proud of herself for causing all this.

“I blame you if we all get incurable diseases from this…” Tobby commented, now slumped on the table.

“I know~” Pinky smugged. “But one of the joys of being an ambassador is that I get to sample stuff like this all the time, and I’ve never gotten sick from it. Turns out human hospitality involves a lot of dragging you to local food places. If it ever could get you sick, I’m probably immune by now.”

“Asymptomatic carriers are a thing.” Dr Meeb pointed out with a lone raised hand before it flopped back to the pavement. The poor pink mole thing then proceded to roll onto his side, groaning. “Which Shasian God is in charge of food?”

Tobby, equally stuffed, groaned back. “Depends on the food... But Bonna has dibs on agriculture and animal husbandry… do with that what you will.”

“Got it…” Meeb whined back. “Bonna help meeee…”

“I see everyone’s full?” Pinky asked, looking about the table, seemingly surprisingly unfazed, given she ate about as much as everyone else.

“How are you not?” Soapy asked, idly licking her claws… whether to taste more of the BBQ, clean them, or both… Tobby may never know.

“Magic~” Pinky stated.

Tobby had the real answer, but didn't need to raise his head from the table to give it. “Pinky has one of those metabolisms supermodels would commit genocide for. She’s always been like that. Combine it with all the muscle she's built beating people up, her ample cardio, and some pacing, and she could put away a whole bake sale.”

“Boo~ I was gonna have her guess.” Pinky booed.

“And before you ask, the cardio’s name is Jek.” He added.

“Wow, just wow. I provide you with an obscene amount of meat of mysterious origin, and this is how you thank me? By backing over my fun with an 18 thruster shuttle?” She protested with notable faux indignation. “It's just so hard to find quality friends these days. Humph!” She was really hamming it up, for all the ham it was worth.

Actually, Tobby didn’t want to think about ham anymore…

“Can’t help you there, that market's been pretty dry for a while now, so you're stuck with me.” Tobby may be full, but that only means there’s less room to keep sassy bitch Tobby contained. “And I'm stuck with you, which means I know full well this isn’t the only thing you've planned for us today, now is it?”

“Darn, after all these years I’m getting predictable...”

“So what is it? What magical misadventure are you about to try roping Soapy and me into to fill in the technical last day of the Sabu-Kai?”

“It's a sup-”

“If you say it's a surprise, and take us to some sex shop or a cathouse, I will, Ardon willing, sic Soapy on you.”

At the mention of her name, Soapy’s ears perked up. ‘mrrp?’

Pinky feigned a gasp. “But I thought I was your go-to attack rous. After eighty seasons of loyal service, your just going to throw it all away for the romantic interest who only showed up a mere half season ago?!”

“Yes,” he answered flatly, sitting up enough to fold his arms. “But only because I know giving Jek a list of cute pet names to use would only escalate to a prank war that would leave thousands dead. At least this way, Soapy would be the only casualty.”

‘Mrrp!?’ Soapy trilled louder. “Hey wait a second! Why am I the acceptable casualty?!”

“Ha!” Pinky pointed. "Get casualtied nerd!"

“Because I know that if she does anything to either of us, you’re petty enough to turn it into as much of a blood feud as Pinky is. Mutually assured destruction.” He smiled confidently at his grand strategy. “And when you two are done destroying each other, I'll be left unscathed.” It was the sun-kin way! A strategy as old as time!

Pinky and Soapy both looked to him, then to each other, and exchanged glares as if they were exchanging telepathic insults before Soapy spoke first. “Want to drag him kicking and screaming to the Yukatee theater and force him to rewatch Midnight Sabres 3?”

“The terrible one that tried to compensate by giving the snow-kin lead a great ass?”

“Yeah, that one!”

Tobby blinked… What was happening right now? This inst how the ancient strategy was supposed to go.

“I wanna see it too!” Meeb waved in the background before crawling back up to the table. “I’ve only seen the first two, and as your doctor, I insist on going... For medical reasons.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Tobby asked, raising a claw to object, before he was promptly grabbed by the two shi.

“No!”

For the sake of keeping all my writings under one account, here is another one. From ages ago. Enjoy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lieutenant Commander Hoshiko Redwolf groggily woke to the sound of alarms blaring, hurting her ears and making her splitting headache worse. She didn't want to wake up and swatted at where she normally kept her alarm beside the bed. She was surprised to find her hand stopped by a barrier and opened her eyes, trying to find this damned alarm, and was momentarily confused when she found herself in the cockpit of her attack craft, twisting through space in a free rotation, bouncing off of debris. Realizing her headache was getting worse and finding it difficult to breathe, her training kicked in and she took stock of the situation.

"Alright, Hoshiko, you can't breathe, you can't really think straight, and your head really, really hurts. Why? Shit. Hypoxia."

For the first time in the thirty seconds since waking up, with difficulty focusing due to a reddish haze in her eyes, she examined her cockpit. As she turned her head to look around, she began to smell and taste an acrid, iron-like flavor and realized her face felt wet. Must've hit her head pretty hard. Thankfully the ALON on her helmet wasn't cracked. Taking stock of that, she quickly looked at the controls in front of her.

"Instrument panel working, engines one and three down, eighty percent of RCS thrusters damaged. Internal gyro stabilizer malfunctioning, zero psi of atmosphere in the bird. Fuck. Hole burned through the upper right canopy, the reinforcement beams melted through as well."

She struggled to take a deep breath as all the skin on her body started to feel like her lips did when she played that stupid suction game with cups as a kid, and sharp stabbing pains started to pop up in her joints and abdomen.

"Okay, that explains the lack of atmosphere in the bird, but you are in a pressure suit and still getting the bends. Figure it out."

Looking at her pressure gauges, she noticed that her suit's O2 regulator was registering a slow leak. Starting to panic, she quickly examined her arms and torso and found no damage. Closing her eyes, she realized she didn't hear any hissing, so there was no leak in the helmet. Tracking her vision down her legs, she almost vomited in her suit at the horror she saw. Her left leg ended abruptly just below the knee, and she saw between the left RCS control pedal and her seat another large hole, melted through the fuselage, through where her leg used to be, and then out the canopy. "That explains the red mist," she thought, as the memory of what her DI had drilled into her training class during weapons qual popped into her head.

"Lasers are not clean weapons, cadets! They do not disintegrate flesh like the classic science fiction novels would have you believe! Lasers are messy! Lasers are dirty! Lasers are nasty! Any photonic weaponry capable of burning through hull plating is hot enough to flash-boil water! Expect the water inside whatever body part is hit to vaporize, causing the surrounding tissue and bone to violently explode! If you are lucky, you will die instantly. If you are unlucky, I would not want to be you!"

Gasping for air in the rapidly depleting atmosphere of her suit, Hoshiko saw a steady stream of gas escaping from near the wound, where the auto-sealing mechanism of her suit had failed to fully engage for obvious reasons. Reaching above her head, Hoshiko quickly removed the emergency pack from its Velcro housing and tore it open. From the pack, she removed an emergency suit patch. Its inner layer was a chitosan dressing for trauma, and the outer layer was a flexible high-density polyurethane slathered in a powerful quick-bonding adhesive. As the chitosan dressing touched the small amount of exposed flesh and bonded to it, Hoshiko felt it for the first time and screamed in agony as she struggled to apply enough pressure over the rest of the patch to seal the leak. She fell unconscious from the pain.

Ensign Hoshiko Redwolf was at home on her husband's ancestral lands on some well-deserved shore leave after going through the grueling two-year training and acclimation program that all United Solar Nations recruits went through. She enjoyed the mild Dakota sun beaming down on her as she watched her new family speak in their native Oglala. She didn't mind, as she was a newlywed, and her own family had flown in from Okinawa to attend the wedding, so she didn't feel left out. She smiled and waved as she saw her new husband, Michael, a medical officer, jogging towards them.

LT, Junior Grade Hoshiko sighed with dread and absolute exhaustion as she sat down in her and her husband's couples berthing. A small nook in the ship that they hot-bunked with another married couple who worked the opposite shift. They had been drilling the battle group hard these past few weeks because the Eridanan Colonies had been pretty antsy lately, and being able to pilot a combat craft effectively in pseudo-Newtonian conditions was paramount to success on the battlefield. Having access to an effective gravity drive helped mitigate some of the classical problems with void combat and made piloting a void craft more akin to piloting a classic atmo fighter on Earth.

Looking at the object in her hand slowly change, Hoshiko felt both excitement and extreme disappointment. This was going to change everything. Nothing would ever be the same.

"It's probably for the best, though," she thought to herself as her husband stepped into the room, the exhaustion in his face fading as he saw her.

Walking up to her, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "How was your day, love?"

Holding up the small white stick with two pink lines on it, Hoshiko shrugged. "It looks like I am going home for a bit."

Hoshiko woke to searing pain in her leg and sweet, sweet oxygen and pressure inside of her suit. Her joints and abdomen were still stabbing her, as the nitrogen bubbles in her body had yet to be reabsorbed. Looking at her gauges, she saw that her suit had one atmosphere of pressure. Closing her eyes again, she depressed the button on her suit containing painkillers three times to ensure its activation. Feeling a pinprick in her glutes as the medicine was injected, she sighed in relief some thirty seconds later as the ketamine took effect and the pain grew distant.

"Alright, Hoshiko, you are mentally impaired. Make sure you double-check everything that you do so that you don't fuck it up," she told herself as she began assessing the situation she was in. Her craft was in a low-g free rotation in a debris field. "Okay, why is there a debris field, why am I in my fighter, and what the hell is going on?"

Turning off her cabin lights so that she could better view the situation, she used what remaining RCS control she had to retard her free rotation. Then she began slowly panning her craft and examining the debris field. There were a lot of dead craft here, and pieces of capital ships as well. Much of it was the remains of USN ships, but there was something else there as well. A dark, chitinous metal, edges spiked like an insect's, as though the hull had been grown rather than constructed. In the distance she could see her fleet, still engaging, firing their rail guns in her direction as she watched the white streaks flying overhead, engaging something behind her. And as she watched plasma firing in a return arc, she also saw visible lasers that burned her retinas to look at and was sure there were several not on the visible spectrum that were even deadlier. Turning her head away from the laser fire and looking to the left, she saw home. Earth. And remembered what had happened.

Lieutenant Hoshiko Redwolf was working as a void combat instructor at the naval yards on Luna, deep in describing to the cadets how void combat worked without a working grav engine, when one of her colleagues burst into the room.

"First contact! Fucking first contact out in the Epsilon Eridani system." The man seemed panicked, his eyes wide as he very loudly relayed the information. "Just had a fleet runner skip into system. They said that the task force assigned to pacify the Eridani colonies had come under attack by an alien force. Huge fleet. The entire task force is destroyed. They were the only surviving ship."

Hoshiko sank to her knees and went numb. Her husband had been part of that task force.

Seven years had passed, and the USN forces had been slowly pushed back. Each of the colonial systems falling to this relentless force, at great cost to the attacking aliens and humanity alike.

Hoshiko had stayed behind on Earth since the onset of the war, training thousands upon thousands of new pilots to serve the war effort. Sending all of these young people to their deaths, fighting a force that did not communicate and only seemed to want to destroy. She had trained so many faces. Most of them never came back.

The aliens had started with a massive fleet. Six motherships, each with hundreds of supporting capital vessels, each with their own retinue of corvettes and fighters. They didn't seem to be getting any reinforcements as the war went on, however, and they slowly lost ships until there was only one mothership left, with only a handful of its own capital vessels remaining. This one. Here. Attacking Earth and the last of humanity's beleaguered defenders.

The USN's fleet of thousands had been reduced to nearly nothing. Only one supercarrier and six battlecruisers remained, holding position with the static defenses around Earth after even Mars had fallen. Mankind was determined to make sure these invading bastards paid for every inch of territory taken.

But they were at Earth, and Hoshiko had a duty to her people. She and the rest of the pilots had launched in their Lancers, sleek craft about the size of an old P-51, wingless, with only protrusions for the weapons systems, RCS control, and the four large thrusters on the rear of the vessel. Each was loaded with two antimatter torpedoes and four micro rail cannons. Each torpedo carried about 2.3 kilograms of antimatter. About a hundred megatons of destructive power.

As fifty thousand fighter and attack craft launched from Earth's defensive hangars and the supercarrier, the alien vessels responded in kind, their own swarm of fighters flying out to meet humanity's last bastion of defense. When the forces merged, it was hell. In an instant, thousands of lives on both sides snuffed out, little pinpricks of light as ships were destroyed, antimatter charges going off prematurely when the magnetic housing on the torpedoes was damaged. Ships detonating or drifting away, still powered but dead as the pilots inside them.

Her ship and five thousand others, closing in on the enemy's main formation, all simultaneously launched their torpedoes at the mothership. She watched the tactical feed as she avoided enemy fighters and saw that the enemy's point defense had destroyed ninety-eight percent of the torpedoes as they approached their target, jinking and moving unpredictably as they flew. The remaining two percent were intercepted by the screen of capital vessels, each sacrificing themselves, getting in the way of the torpedoes that had gotten through the point defense.

Of the ten thousand torpedoes fired, one made it through. One hundred-megaton warhead hit the enemy mothership and detonated, instantly annihilating thirty percent of the ten-kilometer vessel as it shuddered and lurched to a stop. Hoshiko's brief cheer quickly died as she watched the mothership fire up its engines and weaponry again, focusing fire on the capital vessels and defensive platforms behind her. Gritting her teeth, she relayed commands to her flight to get close to the mothership and take out as much weaponry as they could with their rail guns. Hoshiko flew fast and hard, jinking and moving between firing her cannons, trying to do as much damage as possible with her tiny vessel.

Then the flak hit.

Hoshiko watched her tac feed on the HUD in her helmet as the number of friendly fighters rapidly dropped. She looked in the distance, between Earth and Luna, as one of the battlecruisers detonated, having taken critical damage. She looked up as a shadow blotted out the stars above her and saw the enemy mothership. It was a few hundred meters away, slowly, ponderously drifting towards Earth. Towards home.

Looking at her weapon systems, she saw that one of her torpedoes had armed but not fired. Smiling, Hoshiko slowly lined up her nose with the enemy mothership and pulled the launch trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. It did not fire.

Despair hit her hard then. The launch mechanism was damaged. It wouldn't fire.

Looking towards Earth again, Hoshiko saw the sun rising from behind the planet, its light red as it punched through the atmosphere, and laughed at the irony of the situation. Looking briefly at a picture taped just above her, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Turning her attention back to the enemy ship, Hoshiko whispered one word.

"Banzai."

She set her grav thrust to max impulse, released the brake, and her world went white.

It was sunrise on his grandfather's ranch in the Dakotas as eight-year-old Brandon Redwolf watched the light show in the receding twilight. He stared in wonder as many small lights blinked into and out of existence. Both of his grandfathers were there on the porch with him, Jason Redwolf and Kenji Kido, each with a hand on one of his shoulders.

He watched in awe as a bright flash, briefly outshining the sun, came into view and slowly faded. He turned to his grandfather Kenji and exclaimed, "Look, Grandpa! It's so bright!"

Kenji nodded and forced a smile as tears streamed down his face.

"Yes, grandson. It is very bright. Like a star."

Crashlanding / Book version / Patreon

(Crashlanding is now out on Amazon for those who are interested. Please leave a nice review.)

First / Previous /

“Don’t worry, she might appear scary, but she is really a kitten,”  Peter said as he landed in the hangar of Fona 12, the mining operation at the Fygian system asteroid field.

 She looked at him and could not help but be worried. She was his sister, and she grabbed her gift, a bottle of expensive wine from Earth. She wanted to do this perfectly.   Peter walked with her to the hatch and opened it into the hangar. It was just what you expected from a mining station in a god-forsaken place.  The smell of crystallized fuel and oil hit them, along with the sounds of ships being refueled and people shouting orders.  But she could not see anybody who could be his sister.

“Did you tell her we are coming?”

“No, I thought it would be fun to surprise her. She should be in the administration office.”

“What? What if she is busy? What if she is doing something important?” She looked at him, and Peter just shrugged.

“Then we borrow her cabin and get out of her way. Hell, if that happens, she will probably drop Mark and June on us.” He said, as he put his arm around her, and offered to carry the wine.

“Who are they?”

“Oh, her kids. I think they are ten and eight now.” He said that as they entered the hallway leading to the administration, no one reacted as they walked.  They walked past the space trucker and miners and entered the main hall. The admin office was on the second floor and featured a small dome that let them view the asteroid. They were halfway there when the artificial gravity had a hiccup, and they almost fell down as they suddenly floated through the air.

“HAWDY! FIX THE DAMN CABLE!  I TOLD YOU TO DUCTAPE IT!” a female voice shouted through the intercom, and a Ruudurs cursed as he leaped down the hallway.

“AND WHO LET CIVIS ON THE BASE!” The female voice continued as Peter grabbed the rail and pulled them down. Then he grabbed the wine bottle as it floated in the air, gave it to Kiko, and told her to hold the bottle while he held them down.

“She sounds pissed off. Are you sure it’s okay?” Kiko said she was getting worried as Peter just chuckled.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, hold my arm and I will get us up to the door.” He replied, and she reached out to hold his hand as he used the rail to move them up. It felt a little like being underwater, and soon they reached the top just as their bodies started to feel heavier and gravity returned.

“HAWDY?  DID YOU USE THE DUCTAPE?” the voice called out over the intercom, “AND WHY ARE THERE STILL CIVIS ….. PETER? WHAT THE HELL?” The door opened with a hiss, and a blonde curly woman came out and tackled Peter with a hug.

“Peter! What the hell, kitten? What are you doing here?” She didn’t seem to notice her, and Kiko just stared at the two. She looked like a slightly older and feminine version of Peter, except her hair was curly, but they both had those clear hazel eyes and body build for action. And she had called her Peter Kitten? Was his nickname Kitten?  Then those eyes were turned to her, and she felt like she was being studied by somebody far more powerful than her dad, then she broke into a smile.

“And you brought a girlfriend?”  Mina said, looking at Peter. “Right or?”

“Fiancée,” Peter said, and Mina’s eyes quickly glanced at her hands, then back at Peter.

“You cheap bastard. Where is her ring?” She stared at Peter, then turned back to her.” I’m so sorry, I thought we taught this Kitten better.  He seemed to have lost his marbles. Don’t worry, I will make sure he gets his act back on, or I will call Jacob to beat some sense into him. If that doesn’t work, I will tell Ma and Pa.” With the last words, she looked back at Peter as if giving him a death threat.

“It's not like that. I plan to get her a ring.  But it has to be from a special planet.” Peter explained, and Kiko could not help but silently watch the two; before she knew it, Mina grabbed her arm and pulled her into the office.  She managed the impossible task of making the office look both clean and messy at the same time. The floor and shelves were stacked orderly, and the desk was filled with files and reports. The office had a couch where an old black-and-white dog looked up lazily at them, then went back to sleep. There was a staircase going up to the small area near the dome roof, where there were two relaxing sofas, the only things in the room that looked like they had a touch of femininity, with comfortable sofas in bright red colors and a round wooden table between them with a potted area in the middle with a beautiful blue orchid.  “Please sit, tell me everything.”

Kiko just stared at the area and the office below, and Mina waved her hand. “Oh, just something my husband made for me. He said I needed at least some place to relax in the room.”

“Where is Thomas?” Peter asked as he sat down with Kiko.

“Oh, he went hunting with Mark and June. They will be back tonight. You know teenagers. Can’t spend a night outdoors.” Then Mina turned her attention back to her.

“So, where did you meet this stupid brother of mine?  Did he try some lame pick-up line?” Then she grinned. “Please let it be something stupid.”

She put the bottle on the table and saw Mina’s eyes notice and approve. Then she looked at Peter. How should she explain this to his sister?

“Well.. I got kidnapped, and the kidnapper shipped me in a cargo container on his ship, then they got attacked by some mercenaries sent by my dad to rescue me. They escaped through a wormhole and crash-landed on this crazy planet.  But only Peter and I survived. And when he found me, he let me free, and together we escaped the planet.” She said, and Mina blinked a few times,

“Run that by me again. You got kidnapped, and that's how you met him? Are you sure that idiot captain of his was not behind it?”

“Because I killed the guy who kidnapped me, Peter helped. He is a great shot.” She said with a smile, and Mina looked between them.

“And this is true?” She asked her brother, and Peter nodded.

“Yes, Lars got himself into another gambling debt. We were about to toss the fool out the airlock. We were going to have a meeting about who would be the captain after that trip. Didn’t go well for any of them. They didn’t survive the crash landing.”

He looked at her, and Kiko smiled at him. She was glad it had happened now; if not, she would never meet him.

“Wow, that’s like taken from one of those romance novels. And you fell for that idiot? God damm. I guess you had to be the only human on the planet to have a chance with somebody like her.” His sister said to him, then winked at her.

“I can see you’re a city girl. One of the big colonies?”

“Oh, I’m from Sanctuary. And he is more than I can handle at times. I’m just so glad I met him. I guess sometimes things have to go to hell before you meet the right one.” She replied, and she saw something had changed in Mina.

“Sanctuary? That's a nice place. I heard of a woman who was kidnapped a few months ago. We had mercenaries searching everywhere to get her back. Big bounty to whoever got her back.”  She said, then looked back at Peter. “What the hell have you done. Is she?”

“This is where she freaks out,” Peter whispered in her ears, and Mina heard it and sat back in shock.

“Mina, this is Kiko Lee, my fiancée, and yes, she is the daughter of whom you think,” Peter said calmly, and Kiko hoped Mina would not panic.

“WHAT!” she looked at Peter. “Are you crazy? Her father is going to kill you.” She pointed at Peter, then looked at her and, with a softer voice, said, “No offense!” as she turned her attention back to Peter. “You're going to get yourself killed, and you haven’t given her a ring? Are you stupid!”

Peter just looked at her. “She took it better than I thought she would.” Then he turned to his sister. “ I have met her father, and Kiko has asked for his blessing, and he gave it.”

“Yeah, that’s going to last until he finds out who flew the ship that kidnapped her.”

“He knows that too,” Kiko replied, and Mina just stared between them. “How is he alive?”

“He is alive because he is my fiancée and I don’t really care about having any other ring. He gave me a Michu kitten that I named Hoshi . It’s the best gift I have gotten. I have enough fancy rings and necklaces.”  She said as she pulled up her bad and showed her a hologram of Hosi.

Mina was about to say something, then just melted as she saw the kitten. “Aww, that’s so cute.” Then she looked at her brother. “You're such a sly bastard. He got that from Pa. My god… “

There was suddenly a beep, and a rough-looking man peeked inside the office door. “Boss, the Deltafound six is reporting in. What do you want us to do?”

“I’m busy, you deal with it. I’ll read the report later!” Then she turned back to the two. “Sorry about that.  So how long are you going to stay for?”

“Not long, I just wanted Mina to relax on a planet that doesn’t want to kill you all the time.”

“And don't have any Gyma or giant snakes,” Kiko added with a smile.

“Did you take her home?  I’m so sorry, you should never go to Runior unless you have a damn mechsuit and a dreadnought as backup.”

“Naw, it just had similar fauna. It was one of those crazy ZOO worlds. Anyway. I hope you didn’t mind us dropping in like this. I was actually wondering if you still have that lake cabin you let us borrow last time?”

“Hey, no problem, but that cabin got burned down when Mark had a party there. But we have a guest house on the farm that you can borrow. I hope you don’t mind curious teenagers.”

“How bad can it be?” Kio asked, and Mina chuckled.

“They haven’t seen their war hero uncle for three years, and then he was a wreck.  Mark wants to join the Navy to become pilots. And if they find out who you are, then... well, June is going to go berserk; she wants to study at Sanctuary.  She is all caught up on the gossip, too. Always watching those gossip stories.”

“This is going to be interesting,” Kiko said as she looked at Peter, who chuckled.

“What? They are living a safe, boring life here.”

“Safe and boring? Well, safer than Runior.”  Mina said. Why don’t you guys relax here, and I will finish up, and I’ll take you down to the farm.  We can have dinner, and I will tell you everything about Kitten over there.”

“Oh, I would love that.”

Kiko stretched in bed as she woke up the next day. The cabin was made of real wood. She sat up in bed and noticed Peter was already up, that there was music coming from the kitchen, and that he was singing to himself. Last night had been magical, and the kids had been so great. She had expected young kids, but  Mark was seventeen, and June only two years younger.  The whole family was just so natural. Mina was constantly teasing Peter and her husband, but her husband clearly loved her, and Peter was just as teasingly back.  She also had her first proper barbecue, and they sat up far into the night talking.   And when they had gone to their guest house, she had been surprised by how big it was.  If this was the life  Peter was offering her, then she would be content for the rest of her life. She could really get used to this.

-            Cast-

Kiko Lee

Peter Fordhall

Jacob Fordhall -  a brother of Peter and Mina

Mina Fordhall – Peter’s two-year-old sister.

Thomas  Smith – Mina’s husband

Mark and June – teenage kids of Mina and Thomas

Animals

Mictu-kitten – a catlike creature with wings, the size of a sparrow

Gyma – Flying croc

The bait has found a fish! Rhidi thought to herself proudly, both her and Morris giving Marides a thumbs up when she caught the two staring at her.

Marides stuck her tongue out at them both, though she nearly chomped on it when she quickly lost her footing and went high kicking into the air.

She never felt the thump of the floor, however, as strong Finnish arms caught her and pulled her close instead.

When Rhidi realized she had been skating for nearly an hour, she tugged on Morris’s arm and pointed to the long array of eateries, and he nodded.

To make their exit a little faster, Morris scooped Rhidi up into his arms and made a lightning-line to the outer swells, ducking, diving, dipping, and dodging his way through. Rhidi clung to him like a terrified child forced to watch their mother try and make their dentist appointment in heavy traffic, and only exhaled when Morris set her down onto the multi-colored carpet of the floor.

The music wasn’t as loud here, and the more they moved inwards, the lower the volume got.

“Must be some impressive engineering to do that.” Rhidi mused to herself, rubbing at the base of her bent ears with a harsh exhale. “I didn’t know music could be that loud.”

“Pretty fun, huh?” Morris said gamely to her, then pointed to the many options before them. “What do you feel like?”

Rhidi looked around, and could tell purely by the smell that there wasn’t a single healthy option in sight.

Instead of having one main cooking area, each store front instead specialized in a single aspect of famous roller rink food, providing the perfect example of the vice. The whole operation had the same vibe of a mall’s food court, just with a helluva lot more neon and a color scheme fitting for any 1980’s synthwave movie.

“Miracle” played in the background as Rhidi squinted at the eatery fronts, trying to imagine what would best suit her current cravings.

One place specialized only in fried cheese, while another boasted the “finest chickie tendies”. An odd smelling one was focused on hotdogs, a food that Rhidi found as appetizing as snuffling around in the dirt for bugs.

Pizza was of course there, the smell the most pungent in the air thanks to the cooking pepperoni and cheese, though she did feel a strong pull towards the far more alluring nacho place.

Rhidi felt a tug at the hem of her shirt, and turned her head to see Intrikit standing just behind her.

“Are you guys getting food?” Intrikit asked, completely ignoring the fact that Rhidi was obviously on a date with Morris.

Before Rhidi could tell the little red fur to buzz off, Morris bent backwards and smiled down at her.

“Yep! Are you hungry?” Morris asked Intrikit, Rhidi having to fight not to bare her teeth in anger.

“Yup!” Intrikit chirped back, then waved her hands. “Hey! Rhidi is going to eat too!”

“You little fu-” Rhidi began to growl, but was turned around by Morris as he went to see who Intrikit was waving at.

Shasta, Acici, Alias, Sergeant Flores, Shorsey, Inthur, Anfilid, Imridit, and Oin were standing in a small group nearby, though everyone seemed to be rather wary of Flores and the lack of space between her and Alias.

Rhidi and Morris both blinked at Sergeant Flores with partially opened mouths, as if turning around and finding out they were about to have dinner with an endangered owl.

If owls could demote you, or make your life a living hell.

Rhidi glanced towards Morris, their eyes speaking in place of their mouths.

“Is that allowed?” Rhidi’s eyes asked Morris’s, her eyebrows twitching upward.

“It’s not… not allowed.” Morris’s eyes replied, only one of his eyebrows twitching upwards.

Flores looked at them both, the subtle twitch of her lips trying not to grin, daring them both to ask questions.

Technically, in terms of military law, NCOs, COs, and Junior Enlisted could not fraternize while on duty. This was a slight change to the elder-law where it didn’t matter if it was on or off duty, there were clear boundaries.

With Humans trying to replenish their numbers after the war against the Pactless, and then after the war against the Ur… strong warriors make strong children, so there was an odd little gray area that command tended to keep an eye on.

As long as the parties involved maintained military decorum and passed multiple shadow reviews by their command… what was the harm?

It didn’t make it any less awkward, that was for certain.

There were many that saw the couplings as “self course correcting”, the social stigma smoothly ironing the issue out over time. 

But this was not always the case.

“I was feeling pizza.” Morris said, just to break the growing silence if anything.

Rhidi pointed to the nacho stand, though she did not move her eyes away from Alias and Flores. “Nachos.”

Morris sniggered, which only made Rhidi waggle her pointing finger in a slight panic.

“I was kind of feeling like chicken tenders.” Intrikit said, clearly not understanding what all the awkwardness was about. “Anfilid wanted corn dogs.” 

“My vote is on pizza.” Oin said, also giving Alias sideways glances.

“We can just get a bunch of stuff and spread it around the table.” Alias said, tucking his hands into his pockets, his pit vipers resting on his head. “Seems like a lot of people do that.”

Sergeant Flores leaned forward, Alias not reacting and keeping a placid face as she laid a fat kiss onto his cheek. “Leave it to me, you guys go find somewhere to sit.”

Everyone but Alias replied “Yes Sergeant”, but Flores was not done.

“Do you want it how you usually do?” Flores asked Alias, nodding her head towards a burger stand. “No pickles, extra cheese?”

Alias just nodded, his eyes staring straight ahead into the void over Rhidi’s left shoulder. “Sounds… great.”

Rhidi had to look up, trying to avoid the embarrassed laugh growing in her throat, then pressed her face into Morris’s chest as her shoulders began to buckle.

Shasta slyly slid his finger along his lips, masking away his grin as Acici did the same, and he slapped his scaled hands together. “Ssssooo… large booth?”

“Large booth.” Inthur agreed, her palms pressed to the sides of her face as she looked towards Alias. “You two aren’t allowed to sit in the middle.”

Alias smirked at her, something that made Inthur rather nervous.

Acici looked around, then gestured with both hands towards the distant figure of Sergeant Flores. “Isss anyone going to ask-”

“Nope.” Rhidi cut across with a clipped tone, holding up her crossed wrists in front of her chest. “No we are not.”

Alias chuckled to himself, and everyone quietly made their way to a circular booth that could hold their count.

Rhidi found herself between Inthur and Morris, something she did not take kindly to, but was also causing Anfilid and Imridit to glare at the blue furred Kafya with something akin to jealousy.

By some non-commissioned sorcery, Sergeant Flores arrived back at the booth far quicker than anyone had expected, sidling in next to Alias at the extreme opposite of the booth’s other side.

Even though she wanted to stretch out the awkward silence, which was growing since she had sat down and gave Alias a kiss on the cheek, Flores instead nodded towards the greater area of The Rink.

“What do you guys think of it?” Flores asked, though she caused Alias to make the hardest poker face of his life as she slid her hand down his thigh.

Acici saw it, and suddenly found the evening a lot more interesting.

“I think it is all rather neat.” Intrikit said loftily as she gazed around the room, the social awkwardness of everything bouncing off of her brain like air friction to heat plating. “It has the air of a concert, but with the jovial aspect of a carnival.”

Inthur chuffed a laugh at the little red furred Kafya. “A carnival of sin maybe. Did you see the way the Humans were dancing during their little music time?”

“I don’t think any males missed it.” Shasta hissed out with a laugh, though he had been mostly playing in the arcade during the moment of the music.

“The music hurt my ears.” Oin grumbled, rubbing at the base of her bent, Kafyan ears. “Seriously, why the hell do Humans like so much bass in their music?”

Anfilid nodded, cupping her ribs with the curve of her thumb and pointer finger. “It was so deep that I could feel it, right here! I thought my heart was going to try and beat its way out of it!”

“All part of the Human charm I suppose.” Alias said quietly, though the bead of sweat running down the side of his face made Rhidi raise an eyebrow.

She glanced over at Acici, and her eyes were darting back and forth between the table, and Alias’s area of the table.

Morris shrugged. “You guys should hear our concerts, we like to stand right up next to the speakers and let it move our hair around if we can. They’ve had to expand the medical tents quite a bit to assist non-Humans who want to go and get a little too close to the stage.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t weaponized it yet.” Rhidi said with a laugh, snuggling close to Morris so she could get away from Inthur’s tail and… other things. “I could see you Humans mounting giant speakers and shaking your enemies to death.”

“Sounds expensive.” Flores mused. “Shooting them in the face is still cheaper, I would wager.”

The joke landed as intended, making everyone chuckle and dissipate some of the awkward air.

Except for Alias, who gave a startled jerk and then glared sideways at Flores.

She did nothing but smirk back, and Acici was enthralled. 

Small talk came at a more natural pace, though the majority of it was Shasta discussing the intricate natures of classic arcade games. It was not long before multiple workers joined them at the table, depositing what could only be a college student’s marijuana fueled wet dream.

Large pizzas, baskets of fries, corndogs, chicken strips, quesadillas, nachos, and pretzel bites were laid around the table like a banquet of old, if just a bit greasier and with copious dipping sauces.

Flores herself put a separate basket of fries and a burger in front of Alias as the workers went back to their duties, who smiled to himself as he poured himself a cup of soda from the many pitchers of various colors. His smile faded when he lifted the bun, and he frowned.

“Ah man, pickles.” Alias murmured, but as he moved to pick them off, Sergeant Flores lifted the burger from the basket.

“I told them no pickles.” Flores growled, and stood up from the booth.

Alias, in a visible panic, got up with her. “Hey, it’s no big deal! I can just pick them-”

“Nope.” Flores quipped with a wag of her finger. “Pickle juice is on your burger, and I made sure they knew it was not to have pickles. I’m gonna go make them redo it.”

Alias was hot in the face with embarrassment as Flores kissed him on the forehead and stomped off towards the counter, and a hissing laugh made him glower over his shoulder.

“No picklesss…” Shasta said lowly, grinning at Alias as he bit down on a chicken strip.

Alias sat back down onto the seat with a defeated thump, and he looked up and away as he saw the look that Rhidi was giving him.

“What.” Alias said, more in statement than a question, and everyone at the table was quiet.

Except for Intrikit.

“Do you think your lover can get us more ranch?” Intrikit asked, the question gaining her a well aimed corndog impacting between her eyes and a startled cry from the red furred Kafya.

While Intrikit grumbled to herself as the rest of the table laughed, they sampled the many offerings as Flores got the pickled burger re-made. It didn’t take long before the latina aligned Human came back, and she seemed awfully pleased with herself as she set a new burger down in front of Alias.

It was pickles free, and had an extra patty.

Alias would never admit it aloud, but the fact he had a person willing to go to war for his grudge against pickles felt rather nice.

As Rhidi made herself a plate of nachos and gathered a few other random ends onto a plate, she sneered at Inthur when the blue furred Kafya offered her a slice of pepperoni pizza. The damned triangles always made her sick from how greasy they usually were, and this slice alone would have been able to grease Inthur enough to slide her across the rink.

Sergeant Flores, already halfway through a plate of mozzarella sticks, mentioned that their command had already prepaid for a bunch of food, so if they were hungry, they could order more.

Rhidi thought that the idea would have been a hard task to consider with all the food on the table, and was rather enjoying a kind of soda known as “Iron Brew” with her nachos.

Ten minutes passed by with relatively peaceful chatter when Acici snapped her fingers a few times to get Rhidi’s attention, her cheeks full of tater tots at that moment, and pointed off into the dining area.

Rhidi followed her fingers and audibly snorted on her second plate of nachos, turning her head and coughing as Morris patted her between the shoulder blades; Marides, having successfully embraced her role as “bait” in her grand plan, was having an honest-to-god ice cream shake date.

Happily kicking her Pwah feet back and forth, she had a tall parlor glass filled with something bright pink and covered in sprinkles, her eyes hooded as she listened to the Finnish Human in front of her talk.

More odd, her hair was a mess and she had a glazed look about her eyes that spoke more than any words could.

Rhidi held out her fist to Acici, who bumped it as they celebrated a mission accomplished.

—

The Rink proved to be a proper diversion, Rhidi and Morris not leaving the glow of the neon until nearly four hours after they had arrived. To make the most of the last few hours of their pass on board the station, both she and others roamed around the re-creation of Helsinki.

Being Droppers, they were more than hungry after their “small” meal at the roller rink, so Rhidi dragged Morris along to every stall that smelled good along the way.

Finding a deep love for korvapuusti, a sweet cinnamon roll type dish, Rhidi ended up eating four of them as they went back and forth along the road. Void-reared reindeer provided meat for sticks, served with small mounds of lingonberries and mashed potatoes, while pastries of all kinds plied at her nose.

Morris had a hard time enjoying his food alone, as Rhidi kept wanting to have little bites of whatever he had in his hand.

She nearly took all of his almond pastry with one large bite, and it required him holding it over his head to keep the marred pastry safe from her giggling mouth.

Unfortunately, as all good things tended to do, time came for them all to return to the Wild Hunt.6

Riding on Morris’s shoulders and eating her fifth cinnamon roll pussti, Rhidi spied Alias and Sergeant Flores.

The two were sharing a long kiss within the shadows of a Finnish shop, then smoothed down their shirts before joining the rest of the Company heading out.

Rhidi saw their demeanor change as if they had smoothly pulled masks into place, Alias walking just behind Flores and giving her a respective space as they walked.

“You sneaky little Pwah.” Rhidi murmured to herself, then leaned down, kissing her own Human on his cheek.

Chapter 24 Proper Application

 Previous I First I Next

As it turned out the little Grey Voltarite in the aviator goggles was the “Q” of the blast works.

He even had a little 4-legged lab coat… Johan was never going to get used to the adorable little space Fennec’s and their unique fashion.

The “Elder Attendant” introduced himself as a Cordinis Vrays before introducing his Dorf apprentice as Jiminey FurgenDorf.

Johan tried to exchange pleasantries, but his eyes just kept wandering to Minzy …He was pretty sure the girls and the Cordinis could all hear his heart, trying to beat its way out of his ribcage… Thankfully the furry little mad scientist took pity and gave him something else to focus on.

“So, these weapons are not technically relics?”

Johan forced his eyes to meet Cordinis’s

“Depends on your definition. By human firearm standards these are both very old designs. Modern civilian grade guns are semi-automatic. Milspec equipment fires in 3 round burst or full auto …with much higher magazine capacity. This lever gun’s been modernized to make it more effective but compared to my Tavor 7? It’s an antique, even with upgrades. Same thing with the revolver. It’s reliable and powerful but with low ammo cap. I usually carry a 10mm Sig with a 17-round mag.”

Johan Brought out his phone and showed them pictures of his normal main carries when he worked camp security.

Jiminey seemed a bit surprised by the explanation “Compared to a pulse laser of packet gun that’s still only a handful of shots… What’s the upside?”

Johan laughed at that.

“Well, I’m not sure how they compare to energy weapons, man. Directed energy and rail gun tech is basically just getting started on my world… But when I showed these to the union, they seemed to think they would be good for defeating light powered armor.”

The science geeks were basically in motion the second he finished saying that.

Minzy was at a console, her hands flying through holographic menus so fast it looked like a blur to everyone else. Jiminey was loping around the room on his long front arms like an extremely small and very dense Gorilla. Moving some kind of targeting analogs onto a black square up against a metal wall… Covered in dents and scorch marks.

‘Ok… indoor shooting range, maybe? Guess I’ll set up on the opposite wall… That’s a solid 90 feet.’

His trajectory app beeped at him. He pulled it up on the interface to see it had converted it to 27 meters. The galaxy used metric, or at least something equivalent…

Of course it did.

Johan worked international construction, so he knew how to do the conversion from freedom fractions to stupid unnatural perfectly reasonable meters… But he refused on principle to use them in daily life.

It was just un-american… For a grown ass man… with dual Mexican and American citizenship.

…

…

…

…He was just lazy and hated math.

He literally wasted a free skill space in his interface on the [Rangefinder] skill solely because it came with an automatic calculator.

Not that he would EVER admit that fact.

While Johan mused on the superiority of the imperial system and the stinky evils of base ten maths, the “geeks” were finishing their set up.

Well, almost.

Johan made a quick announcement.

“I neglected to mention this, but these are LOUD. Unsuppressed 45-70 is probably over 130 decibels. Given some of the people here have sensitive hearing I recommend ear protection.”

Cordinis’s little shoulder mounted robot arm disappeared into a pocket and produced some gel ear plugs. Jiminey went around the room with biology appropriate headphones, for everyone else.

Satisfied, everyone was properly protected and his downrange was clear, Johan took a knee and rested the rifle on the frame of his pack.

“I’ll start with the rifle. Single fire. Then move to fast fire.”

Minzy did something at her console and the target dummies turned red.

Johan raised his voice “CLEAR DOWN RANGE!”

He raised the barrel into firing position.

Moved his finger over the trigger and focused on his target through the long relief scope. Slowly he let out a breath, squeezing the trigger taught as he did so… until…

*BOOM*

----

Beck felt the thud in her chest from all the way across the room. She would be a little embarrassed she’d jumped…  if everyone else hadn’t jumped right along with her.

…Minzy even had all ten arms wrapped around herself, defensively.

The target had a pinhole in the front, and a can sized hole out the back of it. Its damage modeling skin was supposed to register damage by changing to blue showing a lethal radius of impact. Instead, it was a swirling mass of colors and static switching back and forth in clear malfunction.

There was also a paw sized dent in the wall…

She had seen plenty of Kinetics on the sphere.

Skinners were a favorite among thugs and magnetic needle rifles were common among the races that could heft the big one-shot artillery. But this? It had less penetrative power than a needle gun but way more stopping power than a skinner. It was like a cannon… He had a cannon!

Wait… He had TWO canons!

----

Johan was feeling an entirely new kind of panic now.

‘Crap Crap Crap Crap! I broke the fancy space magic dummy. How much does one of those even cost!?! … I’m poor now, aren’t I?’  

“I’m sorry Cordinis I didn’t expect that kind of damage… Will the DASS take payments for the damages, or do I need to make an immediate payment???”

Whatever he expected from Cordinis it wasn’t manic laughter and nearly childlike glee. The Grey Volty was doing a tap dance!

“THAT WAS AWESOME!!! How long does it take to cool down between shots? What’s its effective range? Is there any way to suppress the sound? Oh, I want that on my table… yesterday! It’s a whole new TYPE of weapon!!! EhEhEhEhEhEhEhEhEhEhE!”

Johan just knelt there… confused… before Jiminey saved him, by pointing at a corner. It was full of melted and crushed dummies.

“We just toss them in the recycler at the end of shift. It’s a relic weapons shop. Things get broken.”

Johan nodded slowly. Feeling his already overworked sphincter relaxing as his fears of financial ruin faded.

“Uh sure... Um… There is a suppression system that traps the gasses. Infact, there’s an integrally suppressed model like mine that came out on the market a while back. It cuts the noise down to about 2/3’s It can be as much as half with subsonic rounds… As for cooldowns. This has a 6 round mag and can hold one in the chamber. Basically, it fires as fast as I can work the charging handle… and pull the trigger.”

He replaced the missing round.

“Here I’ll mag dump so you can get a feel for rate of fire.”

He stood up this time. Once again, clearing the range visually before he raised the rifle.

“CLEAR DOWN RANGE!”

He emptied the magazine tube, scoring 6 hits in 3 seconds, flat. Then Keeping the rifle shouldered Johan reached under the stock and pulled rounds from the angled quiver to feed into the side gate… before he dumped the mag again. Not every round was center mass on every dummy, but he hit something with every shot.

Johan was no competition shooter but 100%(ish) accuracy with a combat reload, while working a lever gun was still an impressive feat. One that needed A LOT of time at the range to master.

He looked over to see multiple jaws hanging in the air. 

“What?”

His poor heart just couldn’t handle any more surprises today.

----

Cordinis was nearly 245 years old.

Most of his adult life had been spent on weapon design, or munition R&D of some form or another. In that time, he has seen every manner of weapon aim assist and targeting SKILL on the market.

Only those SKILLs in the Mil-grade classification: Things like [Overwatch] or [Double Strike] could snap-aim between targets like that and still maintain that level of accuracy.

But that wasn’t what was going on here.

It was too… fluid.

“Young man. Just to be clear you don’t have any augmentations or SKILLS that improve your ability to quickly aim. Or… reload that weapon?”

The young sapient shook his head.

“I just acquired a trajectory assist skill called [Rangefinder] but its only good for taking long shots and back tracking incoming fire.”

Cordonis’s head was spinning.

The hand eye coordination it took to just snap between targets while mechanically operating a moving component on a weapon…. While also compensating for the obvious recoil… Not to mention that reload!

All of it looked instinctive!

There was some obvious muscle memory in there as well... This young Sapient just showed him something …interesting.

“Young man, would you mind indulging me for a moment before we continue the weapon testing?”

----

Johan wasn’t sure what he could do for the little old fox man in the lab coat buuuuuut…

Since they weren’t demanding his wallet at gun point for the damaged dummies. He figured it couldn’t hurt. 

So, a few minutes later he was standing much closer to the range, with a series of dummy grenades in his hand and a pair of probes stuck to his temples. Watching as several circles of light floated around the range in random patterns.

Jiminey was administering the test while his boss sat on the side of Minzy’s console-desk, watching a readouts and video recordings of Johan.

“It’s pretty simple, Sir. Just try to throw as many of the grenades into the moving circles as you can. Theres a score out of 50. If you hit 50 before the timer expires there’s a bonus round with more difficult targets.”

Johan had to suppress a giggle… It was carnival sac toss.

High tech, cyperpunk future, laser tag, carnival sac toss.

‘Dude… Space Cornhole!’

----

The test began with a small tone.

The closest rings moved in lazy circular patterns and the further ones moved between vertical and horizontal lines at random. It took him a few throws to really get his eye in. Pretty soon though, that ancient part of his brain, responsible for pattern recognition, was firing on all cylinders. And he was tagging the targets, almost as fast as he could fill his hands.

He had 5 minutes.

He needed 3 minutes 48 seconds.

The bonus round was a bit harder as the targets were almost against the back wall and moving in far more erratic and natural patterns. But he started nailing those by waiting until just after they changed direction. Noting a brief delay before they would course correct a second time.

Johan needed most of the 5 minutes on the second pass, but he cleared a 50 again with 18 seconds to spare.

During the testing Ser Ralston had moved over to the console desk and was looking at the readouts over Cordinis’s head.

“That’s impressive. He just beat the record, did he not?”

“Yes, he did...” Was the lead researchers level reply “By 4 full seconds.”

Cordinis’ tone was academic when he finished reviewing the data.

“Your brain apparently contains a natural analogue to a targeting computer… That is an astounding evolutionary trait.”

Johan didn’t know what to say to that beyond ‘Hurr Durr Monkey throw rock good.’  

So, he just kind of shrugged.

Cordinis raised a furry brow but continued.

“Mister Silver-Black… DASS has been using this program for over a century to help train young Delvers in the fine art of applying high explosives to life’s little problems. Because there are few problems in life, that cannot be solved, with the proper application of high explosives.”

He paused to paw at an itch on his nose distractedly for a few seconds then continued.

“The record you just broke has stood, for 37 years.”

His expression slowly morphed into a smile.

“And we have a tradition here. A prize for breaking the record …The prize, is your choice of one custom weapon or armor upgrade from the Blastworks, itself.”

Johan already knew what he wanted. It had been second on his list of purchases after he secured an ammunition supply.

“I’d like to upgrade my rifle scope. I need a camera I can link to my skills… and an automatic optical zoom feature would be super helpful.”

Cordinis reflected on that.

“If that’s what you’d like you can leave the weapon with us and we’ll have it ready in a week.”

Johan thought about it and asked, “Would it speed things up if I just gave you my scope?”

The geeks were shocked when he casually REMOVED the scope from the rifle.

It turned out: quick release attachments, Picatinny rails, and M-lok systems were an entirely human concept.

The ease of microcircuitry integration meant guns in space, worked like cars on earth.

Where you bought a complete model with a preferred level of trim… everything was typically integrated. So, you had to find the gun with the options you wanted and just use that.

What customization there was had to be professionally added and removed. Costing a fortune and changing the whole function of a gun.

As Johan explained the level of customization available for human weapons the technicians practically started drooling.

----

An hour later Johan had finished a demonstration of his weapons and given them some of his remaining ammunition.

Jiminey assured him they would be able to replicate it once they sourced a chemical vendor that could provide them with the base materials for manufacturing gunpowder. He estimated a week or two tops. Then, they could give him a firm pricing model for the production and storage of his ammunition.

Satisfied with the outcome of the day the trio decided to make their way out of the Dass zone and find a sit-down restaurant to celebrate Johan’s new Job and the girl’s promotions.

They thanked Ser Ralston for all his help and said goodbye to Minzy.

From a distance, in Johan’s case.

----

The next task for the day was to do some shopping.

Johan used some small items like candies and a hairbrush to work out the relative value of an energy credit.

He guesstimated it was around 85(ish)% of the US dollar. Roughly in line with the euro.

 That gave him some idea what his bank account was looking like.

…He was kinda poor. But not anywhere near destitute.

Back home having 18 grand in your bank account was a big deal for most folks... But unless you already had everything else you needed it wasn’t really a whole lot of money. And it could spend, QUICKLY.

He’d need things for his new job as a delver.

He’d need things for his new room at the girl’s house.

And he’d need to build up some real savings for things like finding his way back to earth.

…He’d need to get to work soon.

Previous I First I Next

AUTHORS NOTES: I do NOT give permission to repost my work to sites like Youtube. Nor do I give permission to use it for AI training. Feed your OWN slop to that hog please.

WORLD BUILDING:

Cordinis and Jiminey: An elderly Voltarite Weapons tech and skilled researcher working for the DASS. Cordinis is a kind of intergalactic “Q” He is responsible for the maintenance and refit of specialty/relic weapons withing the Dass.

His Assistant Jiminey FurgenDorf has worked with the grey-haired mad professor for nearly 30 years and is a master gunsmith and fabricator in his own right. Helping turn Cordinis’s ideas into practical working objects is one of the reasons he loves his job.

The explosions are the other.

First / Previous / Next

Well fuck.

I didn't recognize the model of pressure suit at least, so I didn’t think we're dealing with time travel stuff.

At least I hoped not.

But looking up at her, I wasn’t so sure. She had a beautiful face, framed in long hair that was spilling out of her suit’s helmet ring. She wasn't wearing any accessories other than the suit, no gun on her back, no tools on her belt. She was making a grand gesture, pointing out towards the promenade, back the way we came.

Our hosts caught us gawking and Starlight on a Moonless Evening (I was pretty sure) said, "The Builder Aeche. She watches over us and keeps us safe.”

"Well, now I see why everyone is so nervous around us." I said more jovially than I felt. "Everyone sure didn't seem pleased to see us walking down the promenade though, lots of glares and unhappy looks."

When I said that, both Captain Q'ari and Fer'resi's head snapped over to me. They had not seen that. Q'ari looked at Fer'resi and quickly said, "I apologize Holy One, but I can't say your name because it will give away that I am talking to you and not my friend here. I am speaking ancient k’laxi. Are we in danger? Indicate yes by looking at me, no by looking at the statue."

I didn't know if we're in danger or not! I don't think we're in ‘shoot and run away’ danger yet. I decided to split the difference and look exactly between them, down the Promenade, and I hoped they understood my meaning. "Rapid River Roaring, how many people live here? I've never been on a station so expansive."

Rapid River Roaring's feathers ruffled slight annoyance. I don't think they were expecting much small talk. "Oh, I'm not exactly sure, but well over 10 million at last census I believe."

What.

"10 million?" I said, legitimately surprised. "I had no idea it was so many."

"Oh yes" They said absently. "Come, I am very hungry, let us go eat."

With a resigned sigh, I turned and followed. We might as well see this through, but I couldn't shake the feeling we were in trouble. Inside the administrative offices was a grand entryway all polished stone and evenly lit lighting and then it was just an office building.

It was almost comical how boring it was. It could have been an office on any colony in human space, other than the panoply of different people at work. We walked down a carpeted hall until the smells of food being prepared became prominent. We turned a corner and it was... a canteen. Like, every canteen I've ever been to in the Navy has looked like this; I never realized it's universal. There was a long empty table in the back that was set with linen and plates were set, and Zemmlin led us to the table. The octopus people took up station at one end of the table and the bird people took up station at the other while we were directed towards the middle. As we sat, one of the insect people I saw earlier walked up to Smell of the Ocean carrying something small and black. With a little bow they handed to Ocean and walked away. They examined it, pressed a button and saw lights illuminate on the side. Battery level? Seeming satisfied he sat and spoke to Fer'resi. "Here. This is our latest translator. Please see if you and your ship can integrate our language models to further facilitate communication."

Fer'resi took the box smiling, the lack of understanding painted plainly on his face, but then looked at me and flicked his ear. I said "It's a translator module. They're giving it to you."

"Ah," he said and visibly relaxed. "Thank you Melody." He turned and tried to speak. "Ah, thanks many for this."

Ocean gave a brittle smile and said nothing.

People started to bring out steaming trays of food. It looked like they were going to feed us family style. I saw things that looked like bread, stews, maybe some kind of grain dish, a few things that might be fish or other marine creatures, and things I were pretty sure were vegetables. I ran my personal mass spectrometer over all of them and they were completely fine to eat. They looked to be fine for even k’laxi too. The others were in agreement that the food was safe to eat, so there was nothing else stopping us.

I had to admit, the food was good, all of it. Being careful not to eat too much - in case we had to run - I tried a little bit of everything. It was all very very good. Gun to my head, I couldn’t describe the spices they used, but they were tasty. Lost of savory flavors, not too spicy, a touch of sweetness here and there, but it was all well balanced and made with skill.

As we ate, our hosts ate as well, but I couldn't help but notice that they were spending their time looking - glaring really - at each other the whole time. I wondered if they were in something like a competition about us or something.

"So Ottarn... " I said; I was trying to speak to all of them, it gave be a better gauge on how they were reacting. "This is all amazing food, thank you for sharing with us. Where do you get it? Is it all grown locally?"

Ottarn did their version of a laugh. "Of course it is, Holy One. As you have no doubtless seen, our system has no planet. We have a planetoid a few hours travel away that was hollowed out by the Builders that has good soil and an artificial sun so we can grow crops. We only have to provide water and as water ice asteroids abound in this system, we have what we need. It's the only reason that we can live here at all."

Turning to the other end of the table, I said, "Rapid River Roaring, Vivvex had mentioned that you thought the Gates were disabled. How do you traverse the stars if the Gates were closed?"

"Holy One, I mean no disrespect, but... we do not." Vivvex said, sadly. "All you see is all we have. The Gates have been closed to us for many solar cycles.”

I stopped. I made the effort to switch back to Colonic so that our hosts wouldn’t understand - it was so easy to switch now! - I spoke to Captain Q'ari. "They don't use the Gates! They said they have been disabled and what we see is all they have."

Q'ari almost choked in surprise. Taking a breath to compose herself and finished her food she looked up and said "They're stuck here?"

I nodded. "Many years according to Rapid River Roaring. I don't know long specifically it's been but I can extrapolate that it's..."

She looked around. "This is serious. How are they providing this food? We're not taking it from people who need it more, are we?"

I shook my head no. "Vivvex says they grow it all in a hollowed out planetoid a few hours flight time away. They said it's why they can support a population of ten million."

Omar looked up from his lunch at that and said, "Ten million? That can't be right, you must have misheard. That's insane. Either this place is way larger than it looks, or everyone is living in a closet or..."

"Or they're lying." Fer'resi said. "I don't feel safe here. I have a feeling that Melody speaking their Holy Tongue is the only thing keeping us alive right now."

"Please, friends!" Ottarn says with a - fake - smile and - forced - joviality. "I'm sure you're excited about our new relationship together, but there's no need to chat amongst yourselves secretively. Let's collaborate our resources on the translator and open a dialog."

I managed to not show my fear when I say "Thank you Ottarn, you are quite correct. In fact, we should be returning to our ship to examine your translator and integrate it with our own." I moved to stand.

Ottarn and Starlight on a Moonless Evening shot up as I stood. "Oh, I don't think that's necessary." Starlight said. "I'm sure given your position as a Holy One that of you could wear the translator and have it work right away."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood. That was bad. Why were they rushing for me to wear it unless it was a trap. Oh fuck.

"Oh, I'm sure that's the case." I said, trying to sound easygoing and not rush my speech. "But it wouldn't work for our friends the k’laxi here." I said, gesturing to Fer'resi and Q'ari. As I did I locked eyes with them and then my eyes darted to the exit. Captain Q'ari's tail flicked a nod. "And so, it is with much thanks and great sadness that we must go." When I finished speaking Q'ari made a gesture and she and Fer'resi and Omar stood as well.

Looking at our hosts, I saw that all the bird people looked to Starlight on a Moonless Evening and the octopus people looked to Vivvix for next steps. With my newfound ability to read body language they were both deliberating very hard about what to do next. Starlight broke first. "Of course. Please examine the translator and integrate the language model with your own, and we shall speak again - all of us - shortly." and bowed dramatically. Vivvix made a gesture and one of the insect people appeared. "Tem. Please lead out guests back to their docking umbilical." Tem made a gesture of acknowledgment and looked at us. I turned to the team and said "Looks like we follow Tem here back to the dock."

I turned and looked at Starlight and Vivvix again. "Thank you for hosting us. This has been very... educational."

Starlight and Vivvix both smiled broadly and completely falsely. "The pleasure is ours, Holy One." Starlight said.

As soon as we left the Administration building, the promenade that felt open and lively as we came in felt oppressive and claustrophobic now. Tem led us along slowly back the way we came and this time more people were out and once again, they stared as we walked.

"So Tem," I said, trying to talk to our guide. "Do you work for the Administrators?"

Tem turned to look at me, then turned forward again. “Yes.” He said.

“Do you like it?”

Without turning Tem said, “It is a job. It is not to like or dislike.”

Omar looked at me. “Melody?”

I looked over and shrugged. “Just making small talk. With my upgrades I seemed to have gained the ability to ready body language as well. The bird people and the octopus people hate each other." I turned back to Tem and said, "So the bird people and the octopus looking people don’t like each other?"

Tem looked at me with a pitying expression. "You know how the Aviens and the Mariens feel about each other, Holy One."

"Am I holy to you too?"

"All Builders are Holy."

"But, we didn't build the Gates. We didn't even have any Gates around our home world. We never even knew they existed until the K'laxi here showed them to us."

"Nevertheless you are a Builder. Even if you did not build them yourself, your kind did."

I'm speechless. Everyone here utterly believed that I was a Holy One and a Gate Builder. I mean, with the statue out front and the fact that I was speaking the Gate Builder language I guess I could see it. But still. Woof. This was going to be trouble.

We approached the docking area and Tem leads us back to our umbilical. "Uh, Thank you Tem for your help."

Tem nods. "Be well, Holy One." and they turned and walked away at the same speed they led us here.

"Well. that was odd." I said. Captain Q'ari nodded. "Let's go inside and figure out next steps.

As we approached the umbilical door, one of the bird people, an Aviens, ran up to us. "Holy One! Holy One!" they shouted, out of breath.

I turned. "Yes?"

Saying nothing else, they whipped out something from the pocket of their clothes, small and tight in their hand. Oh no, it looked like a weapon and of course, they fired it at me.

MSF Olympus SSV-3A

October 28, 2187

Cryosleep was supposed to be more romantic than this. Robert “Bobby” Lawson didn’t feel well rested so much as thoroughly violated. Jesus Christ this hurts. The comparison to being hit by a freight train wasn’t a good enough description. More like being on the inside of a implosion nuclear bomb. The bright light piercing through Bobby’s closed eye lids certainly seemed nuclear in its brightness.

Recovering enough to open his eyes a frosted glass screen with green readouts greeted him. He remembered nothing of this artificial cocoon. Clearly, he had been sedated before being put under for the long nap. Painfully lifting his head to look down at his body only confirmed he must have been knocked out. He sure as shit wouldn’t have done this to himself willingly. Not with the number of tubes and wires disappearing into awkward places.

He allowed his head to fall back on the hard foam back rest. Trying to feel through the general ache if anything seemed to hurt more than something else. Each subtle movement pulling at least half a dozen nondescript medical devices and tubes taught.

A feminine electronic voice almost succeeded in its attempt to surprise Bobby is sending his face though the tempered glass shell. “Good morning, Captain Lawson.” Goddamn ship AIs.

Captain huh? That was almost funny. As if anything about this journey was comparable to his old job, shipping plastic consumer goods between Earth and Mars. Such was the fate of a naval conscript.

“Mrmm…” An elegant response. Parse that through your language model asshole.

“You have been asleep for, 3 months, 2 weeks, seven days. Vital signs are nominal. Do you feel well?”

“What do you think?”

“Given the experimental nature of cryosleep the list of possible side effects are quite long. I would have difficulty guessing without more information.”

“I feel like shit. In fact, I feel like---" Bobby paused. Leaning forward he caught a large bruise up his entire left side. How the fuck did I miss that? “Woah. What did you do, beat me while I was asleep?

It took a bit of composure to not shrink back as the spider-like arms of the ceiling mounted manipulator robot moved down. One of the AI’s many mechanical appendages on the ship.

“I see. Large external bruising. Good news, your vital signs show no evidence of internal hemorrhaging. It seems to be a result of being pushed upon your container’s side during our evasive maneuvers.”

My container, what am I a sardine? Bobby’s groggy mind caught up to the robotic words a few seconds later. Evasive maneuvers?

“Back up. What do you mean evasive maneuvers? There’s no way we’re close enough to the no-go zone to be getting shot at.” His memory may have been rough, but he was certain protocol was to wake up essential personnel two weeks before they got into range.

“28 hours ago the MSF Olympus, UNSF Reno, and UNSF St Lucia engaged in unplanned burns to evade incoming projectiles. Given their performance characteristics and estimated point of origin I have determined these projectiles to be hostile fire. Largely ineffective, but notable nonetheless.”

“Well shit. Must have been some moves you pulled.”

“Yes. The time to react was limited. As was the acceleration we could undertake.” Bobby swore he could detect a tone of if it wasn’t for you sentient water bags I could have dodged those with ease through the monotone robotic voice.

“Should I be worried?”

“I have already begun to setup a series of offsets from our main trajectory at random intervals. No more than 1G of acceleration at a time. Though of course the closer we get the less time to react we have.”

“I didn’t know they could shoot this far out.”

“My limited analysis is that these projectiles were waiting out in space as a kind of tripwire defense.”

“Uh. Well, I suppose that’s good?” If ‘the enemy’ had fired from within the no-go zone that would suggest quite the technological superiority.

“Please wait a few more moments for the recovery process of your cyropod to finish. Once I begin to release you from the various life support systems you may feel some discomfort.” From where some of the tubes were going he didn’t doubt that.

Cool. I’m being thawed out like a TV dinner. The progress was agonizingly slow but could at least be tracked by the receding frost on the outer window. By the time the seal had been popped, and the various tubes had been removed, he could get a better view of the larger cylindrical room. It was surprisingly small given its utility. The spider like arms were mounted on a ceiling track. Three rows of four cryobeds were lined up in a curve along the lower half of the cylinder.

On the wall opposite Bobby, a screen showed a nice view of their current trajectory which would cycle through different zoom levels to give a causal viewer a good sense of perspective. First thing he noticed was that they were hauling ass. The meters/second measurement was a meaningful fraction of the speed of light. Secondly, they were way out. It looked like they had recently passed Uranus, closing in on the ominous red oval containing the enemy’s beachhead around the wormhole at the outer edge of the Kuiper belt.

One particular cyropod was about half the size and had indecipherable wiring on it. Oh yeah, I forgot the alien.

Or sorry, not officially an alien. The creature’s official designation on the crew roster was Specialized Tactics and Intelligence Advisor in Exotic Threats. A mouthful typical for the Office of Space Intelligence (OSI). The bureaucratic unwillingness to just give the creature the title of resident mission alien was funny. Humanity was allied with a bunch of refugee squids preparing for a war against some amorphous ‘the enemy’ that made said squids’ refugees in the first place, and the OSI can’t be bothered to say alien in an official capacity.

He had taken to giving the alien the name Thaddeus as that was the closest human word to the noise the guy had made he introduced himself. Thaddeus had seemed quite aloof. Not that Bobby was surprised. When the Zephorians, as they were called, bothered to learn human language at all their social skills were somewhat lacking.

After taking a few moments to get dressed in the standard issue combined fleet uniform, Bobby made his way to the door that led to the bridge. The ship itself, the MSF Olympus, was essentially a giant stick. Living quarters, weapons, and the bridge on one side and the giant engine with its fusion reactor, fuel, and supporting equipment on the other. Certainly not designed for all out brawls. Speed was king out here.

Thankfully, getting to the bridge was easier this time around. When first boarding in Earth orbit, the lack of gravity forced Bobby to showcase his lack of experience moving around without that lovely 9.8 m/s^(2.) However, modern science now offered comfort. Humanity, and evidentially the Zephorians, had yet to crack true control of gravity. But they could at least now induce it in one direction with a secondary drive powered by the larger fusion engine.

Making his way to the large circular airlock leading to the bridge, Bobby began the complicated process of opening it. The whole room was armored and had its own life-support. The unspoken expectation of course was to keep fighting even if the rest of the ship had a shit ton of holes in it.

As he swung the door open the sentient squid almost got himself killed.

“Human greetings!” The four-armed creature was a foot away from Bobby’s face. Hopefully, Thaddeus didn’t notice that Bobby’s side arm was currently ¾ of the way out of his holster with the safety off.

“Holy shit! Are you trying to get killed?”

“Why do you raise voice? Nature of mission means death or bodily harm likely. Why surprised?” The creature responded in a trilling voice.

The Zephorians themselves all had a similar look with minor variations. A generally humanoid like body with two arms and two legs but with a tail. Said arms and legs were essentially tentacles, with no discernable joints. Their head and body shape looked like a cross between a lizard, a juvenile shark, and a stingray. They had two fishlike eyes that could swivel on the side. Their skin color was the most obvious way to differentiate individuals. Usually some shade of a muted tropical color. Thaddeus was a light bluish purple.

Their aquatic body looked oddly well equipped to move around in zero gravity. It was surprising given the weak appearance of their tentacle-like legs to see Thaddeus standing and walking around ‘normally’ in 1 G.

“I think the whole idea is to not scare each other into heart failure and instead to die like proper military men, engaging the enemy.”

“Am sorry. Still unuse to human activities. Simply happy to see another awake.”

“That’s fine.”

Thaddeus seemed to lose interest in the conversation and amble over to the navigation console. Bobby headed towards the captain’s chair mounted in the center of the hexagonal room. The computer would be yelling if something was wrong but there was no harm in double checking. After spending a few minutes checking over the systems things were looking all right.

The automated battle management system had already deployed recon drones far ahead. Not that they would last long. Human drones never got closer than a few AU to the no-go zone before getting knocked out by God knew what. Still, it would distract the enemy. Speaking of which.

“Hey. Given your our supposed expert in 'the enemy', what are they like?” No response.

Bobby leaned over in the bulky crash chair to look at Thaddeus doing…something with the navigation display. “Hey!” Nothing. Bobby was tempted to throw something.

“Thaddeus.” The zephorian concentrated one fish like eye on Bobby before his head followed. “Want talk?”

“Yeah man, I asked you a question.”

“What question?”

“About the enemy and your advisor role. We’re you listening?”

“If wanted to talk to me, why not address me by name before question?” Are you fucking kidding me?

“In general, if one human asks a question and only one other person is present it’s assumed that other person is being talked to.”

“Is odd. Prone to error. Bad system.” Bobby wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Ok. Thaddeus, have you seen the enemy before?”

“No, never in person. Not know any Zephorian who has seen.”

“Then why did they stick you on this mission?”

“I see enemy’s weapon systems. Begin reverse engineer one before collapse. I judge weapon fired at us to be of similar design.”

“And?”

“Missile, very fast.” Not the best description but not wrong either.

“Indeed, very fast. How long have you been up?” Crickets.

“Thaddeus, how long have you been up?”

“I am awake.”

“Yes, how long Thaddeus?”

“Human time conception odd, no like use. Why not have 100 seconds per minute if use base 10 for other math. 60 second minutes another silly system.” Ok you little fucker, so your too good for minutes and seconds huh.

What the Zephorians lacked in social or martial skills they made up for with their brains. To say they thought different was a bit too simplistic. They could feel the same emotions as a human sure, but culturally they were more, what. Mathematical? Like fish Vulcans or something. Though they did seem to open up a bit when being around humans.

Still, their brain was what counted. Their science had a much better grasp on relativity, space and time than humanity did. It just clicked better for them. It was why they were kept around on Mars as refugees.

Thaddeus’s other job was the backup flight computer. These guys could think so fast in terms of numbers that if every one of the triple redundant flight computers failed this little guy could take over the burn and weapon trajectory calculations…manually. The engines on the Olympus’ own long range kinetic kill vehicles were the first joint Human-Zephorian design pressed into service.

Said weapons were the whole purpose of this mission. The enemy was building up an invasion beachhead on the rocks of the outer Kupier belt, especially around the wormhole. It seemed that neither humanity, the enemy, nor the Zephorians had cracked FTL travel. But, wormholes had so far shown themselves to be relatively common.

As such, humanity was now in a cold war with an unknown hostile alien intelligence. Waiting for the real war, the invasion, to start. With humanity preparing while enemy moved in material and resources to build up a launch platform for their offensive. With no FTL, the war would take decades.

Three larger rocks that the long-range recon probes identified as areas of “uniquely large industrial development” in the no-go zone were the mission’s targets. They could be refueling points, ship anchorages, who fucking knew. The point was to seize some initiative. As such Bobby’s Olympus and its two sister ships were on a multi-year bombing run at speeds were time dilation became nontrivial.

Each ship would fire both of their long-range kill vehicles at the assigned rock in the no go zone. Then they would flip and burn back towards Earth, going down again for the long nap. Each kill vehicle was basically a tungsten rod that stretched a quarter of the Olympus’s length with a high acceleration fusion engine on the end. When the weapons got to their targets, they would be going so fast that interception would be almost impossible. Theoretically at least.

An icon blinking red indicated that the furthest away recon drone had been scrapped. Right at the edge of the red no-go zone.

“Well shit. Looks like we’ll need to rely on the preset targeting data. Not that these rocks move all that much from their predicted orbits.”

“Enemy is asshole!” Bobby wasn’t aware these guys could curse.

“Thaddeus! Watch your fucking language!” Surprisingly the alien seemed embarrassed. Bobby wasn’t aware they were capable of that either. Bobby couldn’t help but smile. Well make a properly adjusted human out of you yet, little guy.

This is a spin-off series set in the world of [The Survivor Becomes a Dungeon](https://www.reddit.com/r/SurvivorBecomeDungeon/comments/17yusqj/the_survivor_becomes_a_dungeon_chapter_list/) by u/scribblingfoxx88, and is being written with the original author's permission.

Idris POV:

“Very good, Idris,” Shifu praised after seeing me launch into the air with another phoenix plume, named as, while not truly immortal, phoenix birds did exist.

Yes, they also tended to burst into flames to leave eggs when they died, but said eggs would be in clutches of up to seven, and the burning would be an alternative to laying them, as was the normal case for similar birds. None of these eggs, at least in normal conditions, would also be the offspring of the burned-up bird, and none of them would be the reincarnation of the bird. They also tended to be hermaphrodites, meaning all birds had both male and female parts, and it would be the elder bird that takes the role of the mother, meaning most birds would get a solid two breeding seasons, with each pairing’s mother self-immolating to lay her eggs, then the father would tend them, preferably in the caldera of a slowly erupting volcano, while gathering small animals like mice, rats, rabbits, and other, more mundane species of birds to feed the babies when they hatched. Those babies would then take flight at the start of the next year’s breeding season, clearing the way for their stepfather as it were as their own father becomes the soon-to-be burnt to ashes mother of the next clutch, waiting things out for two or three years until they were big enough and strong enough to fight their way into a favorable position to start the entire cycle over again.

As such, since my family, House Turan, had built our manor on the side of just such a volcano, one of our major exports as a noble house was phoenix feathers, which decidedly don’t give the health benefits they did in other works of fiction, like Harry Potter. Instead, they could be rubbed on stuff like candle wicks to light them, making the properly collected feathers a form of safe and fully reusable matchstick.

“Now what should I do?” I asked, floating at around thirty feet in the air, burning my ki resources like a helicopter would when hovering.

“Now, angle the flames of your plume in all sorts of directions, then when you feel comfortable with that, fully commit to one direction, angling all your flames into it, and try out level flight for a little while,” Shifu ordered, and I started imitating my aunt’s movements when she’d float on columns of wind.

That pretty quickly showed me how flying with fire was different from with wind, as where Aunt Arzu could move silently while being slow and deliberate, my flames made my movements in flight far more quick, jerky, and each of the flames coming from my hands and feet howled like the solid-fuel engines of hobby rockets. This told me that while what my aunt was doing would allow her to move stealthily and without damaging her surroundings, I’d be, by comparison, racing around like a comparative sports car, explaining why I’d surprised Alim and Ismail so completely by literally rocketing out of the last-known position I’d been in when sparring with each of them.

“Pretty!” Nur, my now year-old little sister called out, her mind that of an entirely ordinary toddler and not augmented by reincarnation like mine, happily clapping from where she was sitting in my mother’s lap, while the tutoring session, I was progressing well as my master’s now six-year-old student.

“Yes, Sweetie, your brother is very impressive,” Mom commented, smiling proudly, one of her hands holding Nur’s body to my mother’s still-flattening belly, despite the year that had passed since her latest child’s birth, the other one working at breaking off bite-sized chunks of the various sweet snacks set out for Nur to enjoy while she watched me.

“Keep in mind, Zohre, the gods chose to let Idris retain his memories from a previous life,” Aunt Arzu commented, holding her hands out to stabilize the wind column Reyhan had formed and was struggling to maintain, her first meridian having just come into play less than a week before. “Even if Nur follows her brother’s example to the letter, the very fact that he’s remembering most things instead of learning them from scratch will likely make him far more powerful than anyone else in this entire household.”

“True, but the fact that Nur will have Idris to learn from will be a big help for her in developing in her life to come,” Dad countered, his task being to handle medical supplies, like bandages with antibiotic poultices made from a mix of specially curated molds, fed by mixing them with rough leaves and needles from the trees surrounding the manor and splints for if either Reyhan or I had our individual flying abilities gave out, with little shots of Yingtou tincture, the key to our fast development, despite the both of us still technically being around seven years old.

“Mother, I might have a pretty big issue,” Anyur complained, entering the room, a vomit-ruined bedsheet in her hands, the stain in the center of the part she was holding. “Linh, the daughter of Lord Nguyann, who’s been my hand maiden for the past six years, did this. And I don’t think it was entirely her fault, not with the lessons on personal responsibility you’ve been careful to teach each of us, especially given how a certain brother of mine seems not to pay as much attention during such lessons.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed how she’s had a rather effective siren’s call effect on Ismail for some time, and caring for you wasn’t the only reason why she was sent to be your attendant,” Aunt Arzu sighed, guiding Reyhan back down to the ground while I cut my flames, forming an ice slick as a landing strip, gradually increasing the friction so I’d slow down over a longer distance. “I’d been hoping to secure Ismail a position as Linh’s consort, since she’s her father’s intended heir, but I’d been hoping to get them to tell me when they started their courtship, and get a wedding in for them before a pregnancy happened. I’ll handle this, starting by writing to Lord Nguyann, then I’ll see to arranging a marriage before news of a pregnancy gets out too far.”

“What does this mean?” Reyhan asked, looking around, confused as Dad got a shot of the tincture ready for her and I each.

“Rey, you know how Nur was growing in Auntie Zuhre’s tummy?” Anyur asked, bending down to come closer to her sister’s eye level. “Well, Miss Linh is starting on that process, with Ismail as her baby’s daddy.”

“But, her body doesn’t look any different…” Reyhan observed, reluctantly taking her shot of elixir into her hand, gulping it down before shuddering from the sour flavor.

“That’s probably because she’s just starting on the process,” I said, slugging down my own shot, scowling at the same sour flavor like it was cheap booze in my old life from the rare night we’d celebrate by getting absolutely tanked. “Just like how Nur’s not as big and strong as we are, that baby’s going to be growing in Linh’s belly for nearly a year before it’s going to be strong enough to live out here with us. It’s also likely we’re going to be traveling to Linh’s home for a quick wedding to Ismail, as for nobles, it tends to be kind of embarrassing to have a baby when not married, even when it’s with another noble.”

“Right, now that the Yingtou is taken, let’s move on to hitting targets at a long range,” Shifu said, snapping his fingers and making an assortment of at the moment stationary floating targets made out of a lightly colored, but probably very porous stone. “Reyhan, since your mother’s busy, why don’t you join in?”

“First, does this mean that Linh’s going to be my big sister like Anyur?” Reyhan asked, looking rather excited that she’d have another girl to play with when she wasn’t learning from her mother and the two brothers she had left, as Alim had been accepted into the great sage’s courses to study more advanced magic, and I could easily imagine him researching fire much like his mother had researched wind.

“Close, but the term’s going to be sister-in-law, meaning she’d be either the sister of one of your siblings’ spouses, or the wife of one of your siblings, in this case, Ismail,” I explained, understanding the concept as one of the differences between NCOs, like I’d been in my previous life, was the right to take any number of spouses being reserved for commissioned officers, each rank allowing another wife until hitting flag officer ranks, when all such limits were lifted; the specific general I’d served under having a harem of no fewer than twenty wives at the time of my death. “Shifu, Aunt Arzu uses wind blasts aimed at bells to signal for her staff. Can we use one of those as Reyhan’s target?”

“The metal used in their construction would be too expensive is she uses too much power with each blast, but making more of these stone targets is just a matter of going out to your family’s lands, as they’re just pumas from the local mountain,” Shifu explained, flicking one of his hands so one of the targets floats into my hands, and sure enough, it was light like it was made out of paper instead of proper stone, and I remembered how pumas specifically was full of air trapped from when it was violently ejected into the air by an eruption.

“Beyond that, I could see how a team of wind, earth, and fire cultivators could make this without a mountain like ours,” I commented, tossing the target back into the air, and Shifu reversed the command, directing it back into the position it had originally been in before my tutor demonstrated what I’d be aiming at.

“Right you are, now, take note of the numbers on the targets, and hit the one with the number I say,” Shifu instructed, then calling out random numbers, and I started firing bolts of fire and spears of ice at them, aiming for the ones called out.

As suggested, Reyhan did her best to keep the numbers called out and blast them with wind, thrusting her hands out in similar trigger gestures her mother did, but even with the Yingtou helping her out, she started to tire out quickly. Before long, she started to sway like she’d just downed an entire six-pack of ¾ pint beer cans, and eventually fell over onto her back.

“She’s fine, just sleeping as her lone meridian is demanding,” Shifu snapped, seeing me turn to check on my cousin. “She ended up expending and recovering enough ki to expand the capacity of the meridian, and now her body has forced her to sleep while recovering and adjusting to her new level of power. When she wakes, she’ll have closed the gap between her and you, Idris, and if anyone is to touch her, it will be you, Kashif, as you move your younger niece to a more comfortable bed until she returns to our waking world.”

I was then instructed to keep going until either all the remaining targets were destroyed or I too passed out, and I called for a break when I started to feel the call for sleep and just barely stopped in time to drag myself over to where Mom was sitting with Nur, then just dropped into an empty chair next to my mother and sister, then just blackness. When I woke up again, Reyhan was back up and working her way through more targets, and I was also feeling stronger than before, so I joined in as well.

After draining ourselves to the point that both Reyhan and I ended up taking another involuntary nap, our lessons for the day were called finished, and we were instructed to change out of the sweaty clothing from the training session. From there, we were ushered into the dressing rooms for Aunt Arzu’s personal tailor’s office, getting our measurements for fitted formal clothing to attend Ismails wedding, the nineteen-year-old man himself looking cowed from the lecture of personal responsibility he’d had retaught to him as while he’d already been promised to marry the lesser lord’s daughter he’d impregnated, he still slept with her before marriage, and now there wasn’t a chance for a proper courtship that his mother and her father had planned for.

After that, it was time for dinner, and it was fairly normal, and far more enjoyable than in my first life, as there, I’d have been fed just a nutrient slurry that hit all my body’s basic needs, while also reducing the need to keep track of the different elements of the food. However, it sure does give a much more pleasant aspect to food when you can change things like the doneness of a steak, the seasonings on a tuber, or even the kind of sauce mixed into a bowl of rice.

[Chapter 0](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1sbwdip/the_soldier_becomes_a_dungeon_chapter_0/) [Previous Chapter](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1sbx2hw/the_soldier_becomes_a_cultivator_chapter_3/)