"Set a course straight for the sun," I said, observing the Star Lesiots upon the ship's screen, burning and young. The pilot shifted in his seat to regard me as one would someone who'd sprouted an extra head.

"What?" he asked, blinking his wet purple eyes, his skin fading from an even blue to a pallid grey.

"Set course for the sun, or a star if you wish to call it that," I repeated, folding my arms before myself to rest on my black robes. "Quickly now," I urged.

"Wait a minute, you want me to fly my ship into the sun?" he croaked, scratching at his chin, a nervous tic, I presumed. Motion speaks in depth what the heart holds; I could tell a lot from the shift of one's body. This pilot was a few crumbs short of a loaf, yet even in his stupidity he knew death's call when he heard it.

"Yes," I said. "I have an important meeting to attend to."

"In the sun?"

"Yes, within the sun."

"Are you a wizard or are you crazy?"

I didn't answer him, only stared. Only a fool would speak of wizardry openly, supporting my earlier hypothesis about him.

"I cannot fly my ship into the sun," the pilot said, relaxing in his seat and letting go of the controls of the ship. "That's suicide."

"Suicide is you declining something you'd signed up for. Wasn't it clear in the contract we drafted that this would be a one-way trip for you?" I asked.

"You handed me a scroll with small, illegible writing all over its front and back. I didn't read that shit," the pilot said. "I wasn't going to read that shit if it was the only piece of writing in the universe."

"Well, you signed it, and you were paid in advance," I said.

"This is my ship and I do whatever the hell I want with it. I'm not going to drive it into a star, killing myself and my crew."

"Do you know who I am?"

He stared at my dark regalia, taking in my milky white skin, my oblong head with tufts of green hair sprouting at the peak, and my red gaze, wide lips, and slits for a nose. I was different from him, odd, but rich, for I had paid his weight in Pexian coin for this voyage.

"I don't know who you are, sir, but even if I did, I would not obey your crazy command."

I focused my gaze on him. "I am a Yexerian." His skin turned even more ashen at the word. We were known throughout the universe, the sole race of absolute power. We decided which planet to crush and which planet to raise. Though we vowed never to crush a planet again. Our seeds are within every known civilization, and we dictate the course of war and peace in equal measure. Some referred to us as gods, while others saw us as the pinnacle of sorcery's power. Both were right, yet neither knew our faces; hidden we always were, choosing to work in darkness, constructing the course of nature and life as all knew it to be. "Will you obey me now?"

His hands trembled. "I'm sorry, I just... I had a feeling you were different. If I knew who you were, I wouldn't have accepted your offer."

"It's too late for that now, isn't it?" I said. "You're afraid of death, but I assure you, your soul is way past the time allocated for its existence."

"And who are you to judge the length of my life?" he offered, a brave remark I found commendable.

"Your kind, the Palitites, worship the god Astifa. That very god awaits me in the star, together with a pantheon of other gods, all of them resembling me." It was our way to ingratiate ourselves at the highest point within a society's hierarchy. We are those they worship; our ways and our knowledge gave us the right to be so.

"I'm sorry," the dumb yet brave pilot intoned. "I'm not going to drive my ship and my crew into a star."

"Well, I commend you for your confidence in the face of certain death; it's not the sun you should fear, but me." I stretched the fingers of my hand, long and spindly, with pointed pink tips missing nails as other species were known to have.

"Please, understand that..." I clenched my hand into a fist and muttered a curse. The pilot's eyes turned bloodshot, and blood dripped free of his ears and every other orifice on his body. He coughed up blood, his throat constricting. I clenched harder, and his head exploded.

We were alone in the cockpit. I waved my hand, and his body was flung free of the pilot's chair, sandwiching against the wall of his ship in a bloody lump of flesh and contorted bone. I moved the steering stick, aiming for the star. I activated the ship's warp feature, not into a full jump, just a faster-than-light burst. I went full throttle, and the ship darted toward the star.

The heat was unbearable; I could hear the crew screaming. The ship started disintegrating, its metal expanding. The valves popped as hot air was forced out. Flames licked everywhere, roasting the pilot's body. The light of the star was blinding, and I closed my eyes as everything burned. Everything except me. I muttered the mantra all of the Yexerians knew, my hands held before me to dispel the heat and cool me. The light flashed red behind my closed lids. I exhaled flames, yet my robes and flesh still did not burn.

I released another curse, mingled with a blessing, and I found my body vibrating faster than the torched ship. I spread my hands abruptly before myself and made the secret sound needed to teleport myself into the star. There was a loud bang as the ship's fuel reserves combusted. Flames and death were what this course offered everyone except those who were Yexerian.

Suddenly, everything cooled. The heat vanished together with everything else. Only I remained, floating within a star. I exhaled, and I felt myself lower as gravity took hold of me. My bare feet touched ground, and I opened my eyes to see that everything around me was a clear, even white. Four other Yexerians stood before me on the white ground. You could not tell up from down; so vividly were we enclosed in white, an expanse of nothingness held within the color, a sharp contrast to the darkness of space. It was a pocket universe and our place of meeting.

I walked toward the four Yexerians standing in a loose circle.

"Fifth," the First Yexerian said. "You called for a meeting, and we have answered. Sector 42 of the galaxy's tribunal has convened."

"In your message, you claimed that the situation was dire, a word unknown to our race, for it is always unspoken. We cannot experience worry, fear, or doubt, so we wonder what might have caused this in one of our own," the Second spoke.

"I've called this meeting of the Hand," I said, "for us to rule judgment on the race of Earthlings known as the humans."

"The Terrans?" the Third asked. "A harmless race, nothing dire about them."

"They joined the Galactic Federation decades ago, something we orchestrated," the Second said. "Do you wish them kicked out?"

I sighed; this was the curse of my kind. We did not take things seriously, for our abilities rendered everything easy to handle. Our ways and our secrets were our weapons, so much did we rely on them that the mere thought of another race posing a challenge was unthinkable to us.

"I visited Earth camouflaged as one of their own," I said. "I went about the business of establishing a new religion. Earth has many religions, so I sought to go above and beyond them so our kind could be worshipped all over the planet."

"Yes, this is what we last agreed on in our previous gathering," the First said. "Did you fail at this?"

"Well, Earth's religions focused on miracle working. They adored their prophets of old who could perform miracles, raising the dead, walking with crowds, and healing the sick. I sought to go above and beyond them," I said. "I hadn't even started my ministry when the book I used to dictate all my workings was stolen."

All four of them took a step closer to me. "Your book of spells was stolen?" they chorused.

"Yes," I said. "I followed the trail of the thief. Apparently, they had heard of Yexerians, our power, and our hidden natures. They expected my coming; somehow they knew religion would be my way of joining with them, and they knew I'd come resembling one of their own. They had prepared, gathering all knowledge on Yexerians, our myths and truths. And when I appeared, acting as a sudden modern-day miracle worker, their governing bodies tolerated me, and in secret, plotted against me. I did not fear failure, that was until all my possessions were stolen, including my book of spells."

The Second laughed. "I always thought Terrans primitive, but the fact that they could steal from a Yexerian really sheds light on their ingenuity."

"Fifth," the First called my name, "our books are ciphered; there is no way a human can glean meaning from them."

"Yes," the Second said, "I vouch that you should return to the planet, kill those responsible for stealing your book of spells, and instead of using religion, you use the sword or whatever weapon they employ to whip them into shape. Eternal servitude is what we expect of the Terrans."

I sighed and waved a hand. I spoke a blessing, waved my fingers before myself, and the white we stood upon morphed, becoming a data sheet. We hovered off the ground and looked at the data displayed all around us. "Show me conquest of the humans according to the Second's plan," I said. The data sheet changed, shifting to reveal an image of me, dead, my head severed from my body. Silence engulfed us.

The First waved a hand. "Show me the results of conquest upon Terra if I approached them by use of my armada." The data relayed around us changed, and an image showed the First impaled on a pole traveling from his behind to jet out of his mouth. All around him, his armada lay dead, impaled as well, looking like a forest of insensate bodies. I could see the First visibly trembling, for his armada had never known loss.

"Show us what would result if all of us were to attack Earth," the Fourth said, silent until this moment. The data sheet changed; it showed all five of us in chains, hanging from a large wall as rain pelted us from above. We were naked, dismembered, our innards hanging free of our bodies.

"What have you given them, Fifth? Your book of spells, what did it contain?" the Fourth asked.

"They deciphered the book in less than seven days after stealing it. I searched every possible outcome I could employ to become successful with my mission, but all of it showed failure. The book simply held my knowledge that has stayed the same for eons, but it appears the humans improved on the spells, evolving the book further. I left Earth briefly and returned to find they are teaching the book in schools; practically the whole race is now competent in our sorcerous ways," I said.

"You've doomed us," the First said. "But there must be a way to prevail."

"Let us search for the way," the Second said.

We asked the expanse of white to unveil every option, known and unknown to us, that could determine our victory against the humans. We sifted through twelve billion scenarios, spending days that turned to weeks, to months, to years. We stood in that pocket universe of our making, playing multiple scenarios, going the furthest we could go in finding a victory, no matter how meager.

We found only our extinction. Our deaths and captivity played out in so many ways.

Finally, we decided to destroy the planet as a whole, such a thing we had vowed never to do. We believed this would work, but to our surprise, the data showed our planet, Yexeria, bursting, its core splitting and all Yexerian lives lost for all eternity. The message was clear: if our aim was to destroy Earth, we shall lose our planet as well.

The First turned to me. He'd aged visibly during our time in the pocket universe, his green hair now a bronze tone. The rest boasted wrinkles on their faces, our power being spent on thought, not our physical sustenance. "I curse you for this, Fifth! I curse you!" He took out a blade and drove it into my midriff. The blade bit deep; burning with sorcery, it sliced my innards as it traveled out my spine.

"I curse you," the Second said, stabbing me as well. The Third and the Fourth followed with curses of their own, plunging their blades into me. I just stood there, watching as my blood stained the data beneath our feet. The pain was enormous, too severe to brush off. I exhaled, allowing my power to leave me. I deserved this. I fell to the floor and watched as the data sequences vanished, replaced by an endless white. I lay in a pool of my own blood as the others argued. I welcomed my death, for the first time understanding Yexerians: when fear gripped us, we became no better than the foulest, most primitive of beasts. The rest argued as I died.

----

For bonus stories/chapters and to support my work, here’s my Patreon  and Ko-fi

First | Prev

Patreon [Early Access] | Official Subreddit | Discord

Ambassador Rauja POV

My stomach was bubbling more than an ammonia spring from nerves, as I returned to Earth with the missile Craun had told me to give to the humans. If the goal was fostering an authentic friendship with primals, whose natural response was the vein-bursting pulse I’d felt on Wade’s wrist, then taunting them seemed foolhardy and disrespectful. The Saphno cheat understood human social dynamics far better than I did, but this didn’t feel like improvement over my previous diplomacy.

I still don’t know them at all, beyond understanding that they’re savvy, controlled, and kind. Craun said he didn’t know why Wade liked me, but now, it’s like I have to start all over with a completely different creature to get him to like me! At least he’s coming home now, safe and pleased about his success.

That meant that Agent Barron was going to be here for the gift-giving ceremony, which I was feeling increasingly awful about. At this point, I had to stick to the script Craun had given me, because Ambassador Livingston and a host of UN and NASA personnel were gathered at my request. I remembered how Marcia had tried to rip apart her own desk the second the Ploax disconnected. Her acting level would’ve never betrayed what boiled within, and Craun told me I might never know.

What if they all hated this, but were just friendly to my face and like that on the inside? Panic made me want to back out of this stunt, though I distracted myself by watching Wade’s shuttle touch down out by NASA’s headquarters. The scientists had gathered for some reason; they seemed excited about a VIP, which might’ve meant they were bringing another guest like Garriil around. I looked around for Craun, but he and his group were elsewhere on the premises.

“Look who’s back!” Wade walked down the stairs, looking far more relaxed than the last time I saw him, and he grinned when he spotted me. I remember last seeing him when he couldn’t speak from anger, right after feeling so betrayed that he’d played us back and befriended the Ploax. Yet I was so worried about him, and I missed talking with him every day. “Miss me, Rauja?”

I scurried over to the primal, embracing his squishy carbon torso. “I did. You saved Craun! You don’t have to hurt over him anymore, and there’s no more secrets between our peoples. You actually got the Council’s help, and I mean, I couldn’t do that. I know you’re sorry, and I’m sorry, but that success makes it all worth it!”

“Nothing is worth what you went through, Rauja,” the primal stated, his eyes confused. “Does Pelpau still have no clue what’s really happening?”

“No, and I can’t push it, or I’ll be replaced with someone else. Neither of us wants to start all over, Wade; you deserve better. I’m…sorry that the Saphno government is so slow to recognize what you are. Right now, he thinks your fleet is off fighting the Ploax, and that the Council stopped you in time to give support and add in some ‘real strategy.’ Pelpau just needs to hear it from the Council’s lips, and then…I can work on him!”

Wade arched an eyebrow. “You practically said that all in one breath. Is everything okay? You, uh, don’t have to be nervous around me. Nothing has to change.”

It was all I could to avoid looking over my shoulder at my crate, sitting unattended on the pavement by Marcia. “I’m…doing something risky. It’s not you! I really don’t want you to hate me, Wade.”

“I could never, you silly teil ulona kalp. Actually, I’m in good spirits that we might have real friends. There are people in the Council who want us to have equal rights, and diplomats who might be willing to turn our alliance into something more permanent.”

“That’s wonderful.” I didn’t have the heart to shatter the primal’s hopes that anyone from the Council would treat them with respect; they wanted friends, so it couldn’t hurt to let them believe that the Council could be convinced that they were useful allies. “I’m one of the people who want you to have equal rights. The Saphnos are your permanent allies, even if we were misguided about what that meant. I…hope it’s the start of a real bond!” 

“Rauja, I love you, but you came here viewing us as hapless animals. There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to, who’s come here and come to Earth with actual respect. Ambassador Rauja, meet Elret Ambassador Shesh.”

I gawked as the Elret ducked out at her introduction, and noticed the entire diplomatic posse, that I thought was here for me, stroll right past me to greet her. Shesh looked far too confident for visiting a primal world, with no past experience. The way Wade had puffed her up struck a chord deep in my heart too, as I feared that he already liked her more. She’d been a better diplomat, and she was going to form an actual friendship first! Then, the humans would stop caring about and loving the Saphnos; they might even stop helping us!

The Saphnos didn’t care about humanity at all, and Wade knows that. Pelpau still hasn’t come around, and they’re probably impatient! Wade can read people, and he thinks Shesh is genuine? This is horrible! I won’t even get a chance. All I brought to try to make it up to the humans was…a jab at their honest mistake!

“Thank you for visiting Earth, since I know these are quite uncharted waters as far as you’re concerned,” Marcia spoke, keeping a submissive posture. “Ambassador Shesh, let me express that humanity is flattered and honored that you’d be willing not only to place an embassy in our backyard, but that you’d welcome our diplomats and make such a public statement of our equality. We hope to secure our friendship in writing.”

Shesh gave a playful laugh, looking around. “Once I heard you were amenable to my suggestion, I thought I should put my beads where my mane is. If there’s to be an Elret presence on your world, I hope I can set a suitable example for how to respect humans. It’s a steep order to learn about you from scratch, so I thank you for your patience.”

“Your willingness to learn and not judge us by a certain label shows a kind of humility that’s seemed scarce in our past interactions. We are so very grateful for the opportunity to engage with you, as fellow sapients and as hopeful allies hoping to change the tides of public opinion.”

“Now that I’m here, I hope the lines of communication between our peoples will never close. It’s my belief that it can be as normalized as with any other race. Also, Rauja is a welcome inclusion here; any species should appreciate all that you’ve done for them. We also wanted to help the Saphnos, though our methods were…passive. The Elrets would be glad to help save them.”

I could see the primals swayed by Shesh’s smooth speech, and I racked my brain for something that might make them angry on our behalf, damaging her seamless start. “You made no more of an attempt to save us than any other Council race. Not by taking us in, or by standing up to our genociders. You talked to the Ploax, and not in a manipulative way.”

“Rauja, what’s gotten into you?” Wade hissed, for some reason seeming upset with me. I shrank back. “I understand being hurt by the Council’s lack of a response, but the Elrets tried to find a solution. They cared, and they just offered an olive branch now. That was uncalled for, especially when Shesh is the first to come all this way to give us a chance!”

“No, it’s alright,” Shesh assured the human, her voice far too polite. “I…would’ve preferred a peaceful solution, before the Saphno situation ever got to this point. That was a naive fantasy, and we were fools for trying. The Elrets are the newest to the galaxy, present company aside, so we were just establishing ourselves on the Council. We didn’t want to challenge the status quo too much, when their resources surpassed ours by a wide margin. It should’ve been a group effort to save you.”

I ducked my head. “I apologize. I’ve…been through a lot. I also remember that I spoke to you in the Council meetings when I was begging you to help?”

“I know. I voted for aid and refuge, but the Council didn’t want to involve themselves in ‘silicon problems.’ Just like they want no involvement with humanity, whom they see as a problem. It’s made us reevaluate having allies we can trust when times are hard, which is part of why we’re here. The stark difference in conviction and respect.”

“We know how intimidating it can be to scramble to build a fleet to contest such a force, and why Elrets would’ve been afraid to go it alone,” Marcia jumped in. “With our peoples together, we can stand together. All three of us could be a better embodiment of friendship than the Council’s flimsy promises. Our word is our bond, and it means the world to hear you appreciate what we’ve done, Ambassador Shesh.”

“I know you could’ve chosen to side with the Ploax, rather than communicate with any of us who maligned your nature.” Shesh turned her third ear toward me for a brief moment, before continuing. “Thank you for the second chance.”

I raised a hand, terrified of losing the humans. I need to sound adoring and silver-tongued like her! “No one’s gratitude can scratch mine, for all that you’ve done for the Saphnos. We’ve seen your strength of character firsthand! We always have to be special to each other, since Craun landed here. We were first, and that…makes me so happy! Truly!”

Wade stared at me like I’d grown a third eye crystal to match Shesh’s third ear. “Rauja, what’s happening to your face?”

“…side effects of the atmospheric poisoning I survived? Lingering ones? I…I’ve been on a carbon world for a long time, mostly, and that’s hard! But I’m…a survivor, you and me, we both are!” I’m going to lose Wade forever! I’m so scared of giving them their gift, but it’s all falling apart already; I have to go all in and double down now. “What I’m saying is that I got a gift to acknowledge the true bond between us. I wanted to do something special, as a token of our appreciation*.*”

“Yes, it’s quite a touching gesture that you thought of this, Rauja.” Marcia offered a polite smile, and tossed her head toward the box. “We did plan to open it once Wade arrived. Shesh, would you care to join our little ceremony?”

The Elret perked her ears up. “Gladly! I’d love to gain some more insight into the diplomatic relationship you have here.”

It was all I could do not to express my horror on the outside. I was going to make a fool out of myself in front of an alien diplomat, and Shesh would be right there to flatter them while they were upset with me; I didn’t know why I’d ever listened to Craun. The box stared back at me, as if it had accusatory eyes, lambasting me about Wade would leave me for this replacement diplomat in a heartbeat. It was fair, because I’d failed the humans. 

I lifted the lid off of the box with a look of utter defeat, while the primals moved closer to peer inside. Marcia Livingston’s practiced smile died along with the rehearsed flowery words on her lips, while the humans stared in open shock. My heartbeat had become erratic from fright, worried that they’d turn on me; they seemed stunned to silence, uncertain. Inside the case sat a perfect replica of the missile that’d shot down Craun’s ship, with a “RETURN TO SENDER” tag slapped on it in English.

I tried not to break down crying as I saw their liveliness die, waiting for their disappointment and anger that this gift was a phony pejorative. “I think you dropped this.” 

The humans stared in shock for a second longer, before Wade unleashed a howl. My eye crystals focused on him with fright, before I realized that he’d burst out laughing. Marcia’s diplomatic exterior dissolved into something that seemed relaxed, as she and the rest of the diplomatic entourage fell into hysterics. Oh, thank goodness Craun was right about understanding the primals; I’d been certain they were going to be angry, and that would’ve been the final nail in the coffin for Saphno-Human relations!

I peered over Wade’s shoulder as he crept closer with his phone, to see that he was sending a picture to Hazel with the caption, “Finally found the missile. Manhunt’s over. No aliens to see here!” The rest of the primals shook their heads and smirked at each other, silently communicating something. Marcia gestured behind her with a thumb, which I took as a cue to follow her. She led me through the side entrance to a large building: a hangar, by the looks of it. 

Ambassador Livingston flipped on the lights and grinned, tilting her head toward the tattered, rusted wreckage of Craun’s ship. “Funny, we’ve been keeping this warm for you in the lost-and-found. It must’ve slipped out of your pocket.”

Relief washed over me, and I gave an eager nod. “Yes! Must have. Very, ah, careless of me.”

“You should take better care of your things,” Wade admonished me. “Don’t just leave them sitting out where missiles can obliterate them.”

“Uh…you’ll have to take that up with Craun! He flies like he cheats: badly.”

I took it as an encouraging sign when Agent Barron laughed, finally looking at me with the hope he’d had in his pupils when he introduced Shesh. This had been a shocking success at getting the primals to respond with warmth and playfulness. While I didn’t understand what was happening, this was the jolt in the arm I needed to back in the mix as someone they’d want as a permanent friend. If they stopped helping the Saphnos, no one would, and that would be our last hope—gone!

I can do better, much better; I will. I’ll leave no doubts to my affection and devotion. Craun’s made them love me again, but most of it’s on me to change! I have to be a real friend who shows the depths of how much I appreciate the sweet primals.

I would latch onto this success and do anything Craun said, from now on! It would be my imperative to give Wade a good reason to stick with me, rather than the far simpler Shesh, and that meant I had to build off of this victory to win him over.

First | Prev

Patreon [Early Access] | Official Subreddit | Discord

First

Undying Blues

His eyes flutter open and he doesn’t suddenly pop up with unexpected, unwanted energy beyond the desired. He simply rises. His legs a counterweight to lift him upwards. His eyes open and he’s still in the medical chamber. And thank goodness for that. His luck is turning and so long as he can keep the pressure on the problem it should be resolved.

Hopefully.

He rolls his shoulders and there is a small series of satisfying pops. A stretch of his arms and a roll of his wrists feels immensely satisfying as he rises up. The Doctor is not present, nor is anyone else. He assumes that since there is no barrier he can sense and nothing has been applied to him that there is no risk of infection or they have at least some confidence in his health. He rotates his body in a short bit of stretches to wake himself up further and takes a deep breath to centre himself. The sensation that he had been drowning on dry land is fading a little, but still present. But thankfully he seems to be safe enough to at least acknowledge, in his own head at least, that he’s in over his head.

Mentality is a big part of this. A huge part of it really. A curling of his toes cracks them as he starts moving to leave the medical area. As expected the door opens before he reaches it and the doctor is there.

“Hello Doctor. May I assume my lack of containment means I am no longer infectous.”

“I managed to get some information on those things that were inside you. They dissolve harmlessly when killed, but take several days to fully fade.” The Doctor says.

“I see. That’s good to know that the thing was no longer actually within me.”

“... What was it like? The report on the thing states that prolonged infestation can drive a person insane while rendering them almost completely immortal. Even a Null blast can’t stop the regeneration. Only the death or removal of the parasite can actually kill the host.”

“... The madness was never obvious in the moment. It was a slow change of personality in the moment, but in hindsight... I was growing ever more volatile. How best to describe this? I can only see this due to my own training in self control and reflection. The important thing to recall though, is that the madness is an honest madness. Born of endless stress, over-tuned instinct, overwhelming and unrelenting energy and the increasing divorce from the consequences of poor decisions. I can fully believe that anyone with those things in them for a prolonged period have a severe estrangement from reality.”

“I’m sure. The Captain wants to see you.”

“That’s wonderful. Could you please tell me where I may find her?” He asks.

“Oh, right. You don’t know the ship.”

“I think it would be rather concerning if I did know the ship prior to any tours or proper time to explore it.” He notes.

“... I can’t tell if that was sarcasm or pleasant conversation.”

“It’s a neutral statement, I am a Courtesan good Doctor. Much of what I say is reflective of my training to keep myself as personable and either as pleasant or provocative as the client prefers at any given moment. If one was looking for humour then my statement was a joke, If they’re looking for acknowledgement then the statement served that purpose. It could also be impudent or insulting, all depending on the mindset and therefore desires of the client. People will look for what they want after all, even if they don’t care to admit they’re looking for it. Or even consciously aware of it.”

“I wasn’t aware it was that complicated.”

“Much like any field there are levels of skill within it. For example, most any nitwit can wrap gauze around an open wound to staunch the bleeding. But it takes training or bitter experience to wrap it without causing further harm to the patient. And it takes both training and experience to do so quickly and without seeming effort.”

“I see... still that’s clearly a benefit of being born to royalty your highness.”

“Please madam, I am so far down any line of succession that the idea of holding any amount of actual power or authority is either laughable, or an admission of intended usurpation. My family is enormous. So much so that even though it was a direct blood aunt that had kidnapped me, it had taken an embarrassingly long time to recognize her.”

“So... a fairly typical family. So many members, so many children that people just get lost in the shuffle?” The Nagasha asks.

“Yes, I was either going to be of use or I was going to be used. So I deigned to be of use. Then began my Courtesan training which my family ensured was as complete and arduous as it could be to encourage me to quit. The end result is that I am now considered one of the finest Courtesan’s in the La’ahbaron empire.”

“If not the galaxy?”

“The galaxy is a rather large place good Doctor. It would be the height of hubris to think myself competitive on such a scale.”

“Or a demonstration of appropriate humility to compete at such levels to deny it.” She notes.

“Ah! You understand, wonderful.” He says with a heartfelt smile.

“Oh... you are dangerous. Just not in the way you’d typically think of in an Ibu.” She notes.

“Oh very much so. But very quickly before I entertain the captain, what’s her name and... how long have I been asleep? And for that matter madam, and this is terribly embarrassing, but what is your name?”

“I’m Doctor Hissia. Well... technically a nurse, but after... what happened I’ve been serving as a doctor on this ship.”

“Ah, well. It is a pleasure to meet you Doctor Hissia.”

“The Captain is Purra Legara. She’s a throwback to a Tret ancestor born to a Valkas.” Doctor Hissia says and Danburi smiles with a nod. Shuffling the species named Valkas into the back of his mind as he honestly has no idea what that is. He’s never met anything called a Valkas, but it must be a standard species in some regard if they can have Trets in the family tree.

“Thank you very much for telling me.” He says genially. “Now... might I bother you for instructions on how to find Captain Legara please and thank you?”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Bridge, Nova Pirate Craft, Between Systems)•-•-•

The door to the bridge opens and she turns to see the towering blue frame of the rescued Ibu Prince step into the bridge.

“Ah, the sleeping prince awakens.” Captain Legara notes. “You’re looking better.”

“Am I? I haven’t been able to avail myself of a mirror yet.”

“Really? Well there are more and more surprises aren’t there?” She asks. “Now, we need information. Contact information primarily. As well as any possible allies to drop you off to, because our long range sensors are showing that those stealth ships are running their engines hot to keep up with us. Meaning you’re valuable, but a little hard to keep.”

“And I would appreciate if you did keep me captain. I’ll need a good look at a galactic map to see if there are any La’ahbaron allies or trading partners close to our location. I have the passwords to bypass most security checks for calling the La’ahbaron Royal Palace directly and... I sense you have more questions madam.”

“Yeah. About that sword. A lot of my girls with more curiosity than sense have been tampering with it and everything we learn about it just confuses me further. That thing is as sharp as a ball bearing until someone holds it, then it goes through trytite like a plasma blade through butter. Every scanner we’ve brought near it has broken as if severely overloaded or suddenly undergoing millennia of wear and tear without repair totems and holding the thing exhausts everyone to the limit. And pulling in Axiom doesn’t help.”

“Is my blood on the handle still wet?”

“It is.”

“Terrifying.”

“Yes.” The Captain agrees with him. “Where did that thing come from?”

“Unfortunately captain, the only source I have for the source of that weapon is unreliable in the extreme. It is my Aunt Wurana who was clearly attempting to subvert or manipulate me and therefore every she said to me is highly suspect to put things lightly.”

“Hmm...”

“However, the gist of what she claims is that she uncovered an entire world infested with the same parasite that has been purged from me. It rendered the inhabitants unable to die but increasingly insane. The animals were twisted into giant monsters and everything was in a gigantic cycle of death, obsession and madness, except in some few small places. There was apparently some kind of temple of monks who found an herbal method to quell the madness and coupled it with meditation and ritual to regain and maintain their sanity.”

“And the sword?”

“Apparently there was some other temple. One where it was held like a sacred artifact. But again, I’m not sure what I do or do not believe from her. But the one thing I do believe is that the weapon was found on a world overrun with the parasites that a single nick from that sword killed.”

“Hmm... where were you cut by that sword?”

“Right palm, I already healed the wound though so it doesn’t show.” He says showing his right hand to her.

“I see. How did you get your hands on it?”

“During my escape from my Aunt’s... pardon me if this is crass but, as I ran away out of that puckered sphincter of hell and torment I was in a berserk state and only barely in enough control of myself to not enact a massacre on her slave soldiers and instead leap over them. I was able to keep ahead of her portal network in the base and yet she was still able to find out I was looking for some kind of escape craft and successfully guessed which one I would find first. She had the sword at the time. I’m not entirely sure how I disrupted her attacks with the sword, but I did and grabbed onto it via the blade, which is how my palm was cut, and then attacked her so viciously I stunned her before kicking her away and breaking her grip on the sword. I then took the sword and rushed onto the ship before she could collect herself and took off as quickly as I could.”

“So she was using it?”

“Yes, and the moment I picked up the sword I nearly collapsed in exhaustion.”

“... Very strange.”

“Yes.”

“No one has been able to sense any Axiom use from that thing.”

“Nor have I.” Danburi agrees.

“Okay, so rule one with that thing. Which I passed while you were asleep. Is that we’re keeping it on your ship so that if we have to we can throw it out of our ship and not have it just vanish into deep space to be found embedding some poor bitch’s ship some thousand and ten years from now.”

“Understandable and acceptable.”

“Good. Rule two, and this is for you exclusively. Is cover up.”

“Very well, but... why?”

“You’re the only man on this ship. We’re in a very dangerous situation and while you are a beautiful piece of blue eye candy we can’t afford the distraction those abs and that man ass is going to be giving us. You need at least a shirt and some less flattering pants.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t exactly dressed when I stole that ship and made these by hand.”

“We’ve got some things sized for Cannidors. It’s going to be baggy on you. But right now we need that because I had to tell off a lot of girls from just staring at you as you slept rather than actually working.”

“I see. Shall I tie a scar around the lower half of my face as well?” He asks holding up a hand to show what he would look like with half his face covered. Captain Legara just stares at him in open mouth shock.

“I... that might make it worse...” She says slowly before looking away. “How the hell is one person so damn pretty? Was he designed to be like this?”

“Essentially.” Danburi replies and she turns back to him.

“I’m not surprised. You’re too pretty.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“... Oh you’ve gotten in trouble from it.”

“Yes. I have. However this branch conversation is now over, please and thank you.”

“Ah, got it. Scandal.”

“Personal and private, please respect it please and thank you.” Danburi says.

“Fine. But my order stands. Clothes. Big and baggy. You’ve got some delicious looking muscles and that’s the problem.”

“Should I wear a hat to cloak my face in shadows?”

“Honestly? Probably.”

“Hmm, well I won’t begrudge that. Once I’m more appropriately dressed would you mind if I discussed with you manners in which to make my skills of use to the ship?”

“OH? And how would you do that?”

“I can create powerful Axiom Totems that will allow you to expand your already existing storage expansion to a ludicrous degree and stretch your supplies many thousand fold.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You will have my utmost attention during that conversation good sir. Now. Shirt.”

“And where shall I find it Madam Captain?”

“Right, let me call up the Cabin Girl.” Legara says as she taps at the armrest of her chair.

“Yes?” A voice asks over a speaker on the chair.

“Get up to the bridge and give our guest and payday the trytite tour of the ship. Start it in the Tertiary Storage area, where we got those extra clothes. He needs to get covered up. He’s distracting.”

“Woo! Time with the man candy!”

“Grizelle!”

“Sorry! On my way!”

First Last

Surviving the Tower: Chapter 35

Chapter 1

<Previous

Freya concept art

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

Cai walked in on Darien watching a "pro" eskalad narrate his climb as he streamed it. "Now, remember, last time we left off, we were just about to start our first attempt on the floor twenty boss! Now we're going to go in and show you how it's done! One attempt, one kill!"

Cai couldn't help it; he rolled his eyes as he asked his friend, "How in the world can you watch this stuff anymore? Hell, we'll be at that level by the end of our second semester the way things are going! I mean, the actual high-level climbers I can see, but this guy is barely one step above us at this point!"

Looking over his shoulder, Darien paused the video. "Exactly! He's only one step ahead of us! Freya won't let us look up guides on our tower path, but she never said anything about watching people at similar levels of difficulty! This guy is based in Australia, so there's no chance we'll cross his path before floor thirty at the earliest, which makes this perfect for getting a sense of what kind of challenges are ahead without spoiling anything specific."

Sitting next to his friend, Cai decided to give the guy a chance as Darien unpaused the video. The guy on the screen went over all their preparations, including that they'd looked up several guides about the upcoming fight, and Cai laughed. "What level is this guy anyway?"

Darien tilted his head, as if trying to remember, when the guy on screen answered the question for them. "Now remember, for a floor twenty boss, most experts recommend you get to at least level thirty before attempting it, but that's the minimum, not the limit; we pushed it to level thirty-five just to be safe."

Cai raised his eyebrows. "That seems like overkill. Those last five levels must have taken as long as the other thirty combined if they ground them all out on the twentieth floor."

With a shrug, Darien defended the guy. "Eh, nothing wrong with playing it safe. Not like he's got Dame Freya watching his back the whole time like some of us!"

Cai couldn't help but snort. "Hey now, she's been gone for more than a week now. I've only had you guys watching my back, just like any other eskalad!"

Darien's smirk said he wasn't about to give up his point. "Yeah, and I'm certain the threat of Dame Freya coming down on the heads of anyone who threatens you isn't a serious deterrent to anyone who might otherwise mess with you in the tower!"

Before Cai could argue further, the boss fight started, and they watched as the "pro" and his team engaged what looked like a two-headed T-rex. The tank physically bashed one head aside with a massive shield Cai doubted Darien could even hold, while a spearman stabbed at the second head's eyes, keeping it busy as the streamer readied a fireball. Just then, a bunch of smaller dinosaurs sped out of a couple of caves along the side of the room, and the streamer launched his fireball into the herd, taking them out before they could even spread out.

The fight was going smoothly. Too smoothly in Cai's opinion. If these guys were having this easy a time on the boss, they probably should have tried it back at level thirty after all. Sure, maybe they wouldn't have killed it in one attempt, but they could have saved what was probably months of preparation.

After the archer shot out the second head's eyes, the spearman went for the vulnerable underbelly. One of the heads lashed out, attempting to get at the thing stabbing it even while blinded, but the streamer kept it at bay with a continuous-cast flamethrower-like ability. Eventually, they got the beast on the ground, and they all moved in, bashing, stabbing, shooting, and cooking the monster till it was dead. With that, the streamer posed in front of the dead boss with the rest of his party as they shouted out, "One attempt, one kill!" From the way they shouted in unison, Cai figured they were trying to turn it into some sort of catchphrase.

That might work out for them alright in the lower and maybe even the mid levels, but if they were aspiring to become high-level escalades eskalad, there was no chance "one attempt, one kill" was going to work on many bosses above the fortieth level, unless they were willing to spend literal decades over-leveling. Of course, that'd be perfectly reasonable, and some pro eskalad did it that way, but most who did lost their audience, and thus any sponsorship deals they'd picked up along the way. Of course, at that level, the cores you'd find while farming the Tower would let you live pretty comfortably.

Of course, all that fell by the wayside as Cai looked at the dead boss, suddenly lost in semi-recent memories, and asked absentmindedly, "Do you think we're ready?"

Darien snorted. "For a level twenty boss? Hell no! I mean, we're pretty good for our level, but that's way beyond us at this point!"

Shaking his head, Cai grinned ruefully at his friend's so-called misunderstanding. "No! Not for level twenty, for the level five boss! It's just... the last time we fought a seriously tough opponent, Bellatrix almost died. I mean, I literally had her disembodied head in my hands..."

Darien muted the video, turned, and gave his friend a serious look. "Do you want to call it quits? There's no shame in it if you do. Lots of people stop their climb after being confronted with their mortality that way."

Cai thought about it a moment, his gaze fixed on a distant point, then shook his head. "No. I'm still...drawn to the Tower. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like there are answers to...questions I don't even know enough to ask, just waiting for me to find them." With a sigh, Cai continued. "I don't know. Maybe it's just because my parents died in there and I never got any real answers about what happened to them. Or maybe it's something else, but I just feel a pull I can't ignore."

Darien considered his friend's words, then nodded. "Fair enough. I've heard worse reasons to climb." Then, stopping to consider more, he asked, "Do you doubt your team? Freya's instructions? Miss Fause?"

Cai looked at his friend like he was stupid. "No! Of course not!"

Darien shrugged. "Well, then, is it yourself you doubt?"

That made Cai pause. He knew he was doing pretty good so far. In a class made up of some of the best his age has to offer, his team was in the top two, and he knew he wasn't holding anyone back, and yet... "I don't know...I guess? I just don't feel like I really know what I'm doing. I still feel like it's the first day, and Freya just threw me into a pack of goblins, and I've got no idea what I'm doing. I feel like I'm just running around, trying to fill gaps and making it up as I go."

This time, Darien laughed before answering. "That's because you are!" Cai started to protest, but Darien cut him off. "We all are! Maybe you've forgotten, but you're in your first semester of a Tower academy! You don't know shit!" He pointed back at the video he'd muted. "That guy there is twice the eskalad either of us are right now, and we were just talking shit about how he doesn't know what he's doing. How the hell are you supposed to know more than you do right now?"

That made Cai pause, though he tried to cut in, "I...guess..." but quickly found himself at a loss.

Darien apparently wasn't going to wait, because he spoke up again. "Listen, we've just started our climb, and already we've been through more than some people who've been doing for a dozen years have. We've been ganked by a higher-level group, swatted by a higher-level tower-burst monster, targeted by assassins, and fought a pseudo raid, and we haven't even made it to the first tower boss! Quite frankly, at this point I suspect the first tower boss is gonna feel like a bit of a pushover after all that!" Pausing for a moment, Darien let some of the energy out of his voice and continued a bit more calmly. "Listen, it's okay to feel overwhelmed, but trust me, if they thought you were lacking in any way, shape, or form, your team would have let you know by now."

Cai cut in. "I don't know about that. Elise is too nice for her own good, and Lilith has a thing for you..."

Darien looked at Cai like he was stupid, then answered with one word, or rather, one name. "Nyx."

Cai had to admit he had no counter to that. The woman had somewhat "warmed up" to him in that she was no longer staring daggers at him for ruining her all-girl harem team, but she still wasn't the kind to hold back any opinion, regardless of whether her target wanted to hear it. "But still..." However, his argument died when he realized he had nothing to say.

After letting his friend process things for a few minutes, Darien continued again. "Listen, maybe you should speak to someone, professionally, I mean." Cai started to object, but Darien cut him off again. "You said it yourself; you held your friend's disembodied head in your hands. Even if she lived, you can't easily process that kind of thing on your own. Not to mention what happened when that higher-level team got their hands on you. Hell, even the silent but tough Bellatrix has been seeing a therapist after losing her head."

That surprised Cai. "She has? I mean, I guess that makes sense, but she just doesn't seem like the type..."

Darien laughed, smirking as if he was reading his friend's unspoken thoughts. "What? You think she's too tough for counseling? You think her muscles can prevent trauma from something like that? 'Cause that's not how that works!"

Cai nodded, seeing his friends point. "Fair enough... I suppose I could look up someone. Not like I have a lot of cash for that though..."

Darien held out a folded piece of paper, and Cai accepted it. He unfolded it and saw a name and a phone number. Cai looked at his friend, confused as Darien explained. "It's one of the school-funded counselors. Maybe not the best of the best, but enough students get traumatized learning to climb that a few are always on standby, and your tuition covers their sessions."

Cai looked at the paper, then at his friend, his confusion evident on his face. "How long have you had this?"

Darien shrugged. "Ever since the whole minotaur incident. I kinda hoped you'd decide to go on your own, but figured I might have to give you a shove sooner or later."

Cai knew his friend well enough to know he meant no judgment. Rather, he was trying to be supportive. Looking down at the paper, Cai thought about it some more. "Yeah...maybe I'll give them a call."

Darien turned back to his video, but before he unmuted it, he added one final thought. "Remember, almost every high-level eskalad team has an entire support staff behind them, usually including therapists; no one climbs the Tower alone." He paused for half a thought, then added, "Well, except for Dame Freya, but you and I both know we're nowhere near that level yet! Still, there's no shame in taking care of yourself. Only then can you take care of the rest of your team."

With that, Darien's attention returned to the screen, and Cai walked back to his room, staring at the paper as thoughts whirled through his head.

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

I'm not awake enough to say anything intelegent, so...yeah. Hope you enjoyed!

My wiki, in case anyone wants to check out some of my other stories.

Here you can find some of my published works.

Previous | Interlewd LXVII | Interlewd LXVIII | Next | First

---Leaves---

---Victor’s perspective---

*Beeeeep* is the sound of the private capsule me, Tuun and Emiko are taking to meet the others, letting us know it’s time to wake up.

I sit up and reach for the dial to turn down the opacity in the windows.

Even though my internal clock’s telling me it’s only about 2am right now, what’s revealed is a clear blue sky, several hours after sunrise.

My wife sits up from the cot next to mine, looking fresh as a daisy!

Emiko, on the far side of her, groans and squints blearily against the bright light I’ve just let in.

I had to ask for the journey to take 6hr (long enough for a decentish if not full night’s sleep) when I booked, since, though the 10% of my genes that’s Neanderthal includes the early riser one… even I’ve got my limits(!)

It’s funny how being able to travel anywhere on Earth in a matter of a few hours doesn’t get rid of the awkwardness of jetlag if you need to be operating in daylight hours when you get there.

I stand from my bunk, step to the minisink and have a quick go at my teeth with one of the provided toothbrushes, then step aside to make room for Tuun and Emiko to come and get their own.

Seeing the South end of Japan rapidly approaching, I spit, tip the brush into the recycling chute, sling my daybag over my shoulders and go to the door.

An absolute sea of red, orange and yellow leaves woosh by below me as we fly over Southern Kyūshū.

The Japanese Archipelago stretches so far, North to South, that I know, even though late October is the height of Autumn here, on the other end of it, Hokkaido’ll already be buried in snow!

Had to do a Winter survival expedition there at uni… Not fun!

The other two join me at the capsule door and we get a dramatic view of the Kirishima Mountains to the South as they float past us.

“Hey… uhm…” says Emiko to me and my wife, voice still claggy from sleep “…thank you both for coming with me.”

“No problem, Emiko.” I smile down at her, hearing the clag in my own.

A few more minutes bring our destination into view; a city on the Pacific coast.

We come down through the skypiercers on the Western edge, cross the Ōyodo River and set down on a landingpad in Heiwadai Park, where we agreed to meet the others.

The door opens and we step out, blinking against the bright sunlight of 8:30am in just about the Southernmost part of Japan… unless you count the Ryūkyūs.

We’re in a wide, clear gap between autumnal coloured forested hills on both sides and with a lovely little lake on the far end from us.

It doesn’t take much looking around to spot the ones we’re meeting.

The 2.3m tall android is a bit of a landmark(!)

I lead the way over to them.

I can see the faces of Tea, Lloyd and Sigrid, the other two having their backs to us.

The woman I grew up with is in the middle of an animated story.

Just as we get close, I hear the woman who accepted me for the ODR’s TSO pilot programme and started me off learning Japanese burst into a raucous laugh, doubling over from the end of Tea’s joke.

Swinging sideways, she catches sight of us and whips her head to me.

“*hehehe*…VICTOR!… It’s…*hehe*… lovely to see you!… I’d forgotten what a riot your sister was!” she says, grinning as she straightens back up to standing.

“Good to see you too, Jeanne!” I smile back as I scoop up the first ever Terran Representative to Parliament into a bearhug.

“And this’ll be the wife?” she says, looking over my left shoulder.

“That’s the one!” I say, plonking her back down on the ground and gesturing Tuun.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Dr Miyazaki.” says the love of my life, politely bending down and reaching out her upper right for a handshake.

Smacking hers into it hard enough to make an audible *clap*, Jeanne takes Tuun’s hand for a hearty handshake.

“Good to meet you too, girl!” she grins, her eyes burning with her trademark ferocity as she appraises her for a moment before releasing her and turning to my right.

“And there… she… is…” Jeanne says, slowly stepping towards the woman she shares a father with, face unreadable.

The two women, the dainty and the fierce, stand staring at eachother for a few long moments, Emiko’s face apprehensive, Jeanne’s unreadable.

“He-Hello, Sister…” the younger Miyazaki finally manages.

Jeanne’s act finally cracks as she grins and scoops up Emiko into a hug every bit as enthusiastic as the one I just gave her.

“‘Hello, Sister’ indeed!!!” cackles Jeanne as she spins a wide eyed Emiko around, sets her back down on the ground, takes both her hands and kisses both her cheeks “So good to see you! Been so long! What do you think of the choice of meeting place?”

Visibly experiencing adrenaline comedown, Emiko stutters “It-erm-it’s… c-certainly appropriate(!)”

Clapping a hand on her shoulder and waving the other towards the centre of the city that shares their name, Jeanne agrees “What better place for two Miyazakis to meet(!)” loudly and boisterously.

Chuckling and sensing my role as the buffer to not be too necessary right now, I turn to Ezra.

“How’s it goin’, my man?” I greet, holding out my hand to him.

“Optimally… and with yourself?” answers a serious contender for the single calmest person I’ve ever met, reaching out to close his large, actuated fingers around my hand in an unsatisfyingly short and gentle handshake.

“Not too bad! You didn’t get lonely bein’ the only one awake on the ride over here?”

“I am the only one awake every night. The only difference was that, this time, I was in a capsule and Mrs Leaf, Mr Leaf and Ms Valley were present.”

I narrow my eyes and smile “Was that a joke, Ezra?”

“We will never know…” he answers with a very slight smile that lets me know this at least is a joke.

I laugh and turn to Tea and her lot.

I give her and Lloyd a hug hello.

Not yet sure I know Sigrid well enough to be sure she’d be comfortable getting cuddled, I smile and wave at her with the arm around Lloyd’s back.

Standing back up, I ask “No Chelsea an’ Arthur?”

“Yeeeah… we thought about it but…” frowns Tea.

“We didn’t think it was doable with the jetlag…” explains Lloyd “…It’s midnight our time right now and, while we left London at 6pm and could use our translators to sleep, they would just have been bouncing around the cabin! My sister’s taken them for the weekend.”

“That’s nice of her!” I nod.

“Lovely of her…” smirks Tea “…’cept I’m always a bit worried one of these times she’s gonna just refuse to give ’em back after(!)”

“Ha!… Oh, hey, Tea… I remembered after I left yours last time, Kas asked me to give you her holocom!”

Her face lights up as she says “My poly sister? Gimme, gimme, gimme!”

“Waaaaait…” I say, a little sternly “…Tea, I know this is my fault for not givin’ this to you sooner… but she’s gettin’ married in 36hr, Tea! Right now, the absolute last thing she needs is to get sucked into a 6hr long text exchange with you. She’ll have enough on her plate!… If I give it to you now, you gotta promise not to text her for a week, till her honeymoon’s over!”

“Yeah. Sure.” says Tea in a way I don’t buy for a second, eyes glazed over and fixed forward without being properly focused on mine.

I think for a moment… then turn to swipe my holo screen to her left.

A ping sounds… from Lloyd’s holo.

He looks startled as Tea whooshes her head to him, outraged!

“Keep her honest for me, would you Lloyd(!)” I say, winking at the slim man “Don’t give her that for a week.”

“Oh, come on!” she objects.

“Lloyd’s got it now, Tea. Why do you need it if you ain’t plannin’ to use it right away?” I ask.

Having no answer, she just grumbles “Fiiiiine… You know I’ll just bully it out of him later though, right(!?)”

“That’s between you and him(!)” I quip back.

“Alright guys!” announces the forceful voice of Jeanne ‘Blitz’ Miyazaki who I turn to see pointing at the lake “We’re gonna head that way and right to see all the haniwa in the Haniwa Garden for our first stop today! Let’s get moving! Lots to see, lots to do!”

Strategically, I wait until the eight of us start moving and place myself on the far left, between Emiko and a row of hedges, Jeanne on her other side.

It is a kinda weird situation…!

Even though these two are sisters and have known about eachother decades longer than I’ve been alive, because they’ve only had the ability to speak in real time since Emiko was in her mid20s and Jeanne in her early 40s, the fact is, they don’t actually have that much experience with eachother!

Having known Jeanne for 4 years while I did my qualification and Emiko for 3 while we sailed around the galaxy together, I’ve had much more facetime with both of them than they’ve ever had with eachother.

I’m here not just to see old friends but also to jump in if she looks like she’s out of her depth with her sister.

“Oh, Director Chau and Deputy Director Idris asked me to pass on their regards.” Emiko offers, doing a good job of hiding her nerves now.

“Oh they did!?” booms Jeanne “How are the old girl and boy?”

“They… seemed fine but… it was a little difficult for me to tell…?”

“Yeah… That’s New Terrans for you!” smirks the older sister “They’re killer in the sack though!”

Emiko gives a choking cough that would have been a spittake if she’d been drinking anything and I swoop in to distract “Jeanne(!) Your husband’s right there(!)”

Wryly, she addresses him while keeping her eyes on me “Ezra darling, just who was my last relationship with before I turned you on?”

“Ethel ‘Baby Blues’ Chau-Haas and Silvester ‘Clarity’ Pesti-Idris, my love, lasting 3 years 1 month 7 days and (approximately) 5 hours.” the 0.2tonne man on her right answers.

“You see, Taylor(?) My husband knows I wasn’t a virgin when we met(!)” she freely teases with the kind of intensity I’ve only ever seen glimpses of in her sister’s eyes.

“Fair enough!… So, what’s on the agenda for today, Jeanne?” I ask, distracted by a football bouncing across the path 50m or so ahead of us and planting itself into the top of the hedgerow.

“Well I’m thinking an hour or two in the park, head into town, sushi bar for lunch, catch a mid afternoon screening of Love to Die For, rent a karaoke booth and sing until we’re all hoarse, head to an izakaya and drink till we’re nicely merry then call capsules back to our respective startpoints! It’s Sunday tomorrow so that’s plenty of time to get over the jetlag for those of us with work on Monday morning!”

“Sounds like a plan!” I  say, watching a 6-7 year old kid run across the path after the ball.

She’s trying to reach for it but she’s too short to be able to bring her arms to full length over the top of the hedge and (even if she could) her arms wouldn’t be nearly long enough to get to it.

As we draw close, I reach over her head and palm the ball in my left hand, pulling it from the bush and prompting a shocked “わ! すごい!!!” from her.

I briefly stop and bring the ball down in front of her for her to take, smiling “どうぞ…”

She clamps it between both palms and runs off, saying “ありがとう, でっかいさん!”

I snort at what she just called me and answer “なんでもない, ちびちゃん!” after her as she runs back to join her friends.

I jog a few paces to catch up with the others.

As we approach the lake, I take a deep, satisfying breath through my nose to smell the wonderful Autumn leaves around us.

I feel like today’s going to be good!

---models---

Victor and child

---

Previous | Interlewd LXVII | Interlewd LXVIII | Next | First

Discord

Dramatis Personae

First / Previous

The Guardian struck at Elly immediately.

A burst of Aether surged from its back, sending the construct hurtling towards her in a blur. The Weaver swiped her hand in front of her and intercepted her foe with a translucent barrier, but the shield shattered from the first blow of the hammer. Helbram struck the Guardian in its flank during that brief pause, his own hammer landing solidly with a resounding clang. The construct’s eye flashed and it turned its head towards Helbram. Its attention was focused on the warrior’s new weapon, namely on the rune that ignited along its haft.

The Guardian leaned back to avoid the bolt of Aether thrown from Elly and turned to face Helbram completely, marking him as the new threat. Its hammer swung in a wide arc to force the two apart. Once they were separated, the construct lunged at Helbram, its weapon shifting into its sword form. It thrust the blade at the warrior’s chest and caught the face of his shield instead. He twisted his wrist at the moment of impact, turning the blow into a glancing one and then swatting the sword away with a direct hit from his hammer. Another rune flared to life in the warrior’s weapon, and the Guardian’s attacks became more aggressive in response.

In the midst of the flurry of blows that rained against Helbram’s defenses, Elly let loose a bolt of lightning that struck the construct in its chest. The sudden surge of sparks caused it to pause for just a moment, but that was enough for Helbram to land another blow. He struck its head this time, which staggered the Guardian backwards. He moved to follow up, but the Shell recovered and kept him at bay with a quick swipe. Its eye flicked between Elly and Helbram, then flared.

The Weaver lashed out with another bolt of electricity, but this time the Guardian caught the energy with its sword and flicked it at Helbram, who had charged at the same time. A wave of sparks crashed against his shield, and Elly could see the warrior seize up for a moment as a shock tore through him. She Transposed the energy around her into frost-aspected power and threw her hands forward to create a wall of ice that put itself between the Guardian and the warrior. The construct crashed through it with ease, but it had bought Helbram enough time to recover and move out of the way of another swing. The Shell’s blade warped back into the shape of a hammer in its following strike, which landed a solid blow against his shield, lighting up its own rune on its handle.

Helbram pushed himself to where he stood right in front of the construct, keeping his guard raised. The Guardian’s hammer shortened itself in response, and it swung it in a flurry to try and force the warrior back. Helbram swerved out of the way of most of the blow, then caught a back swing with the edge of his shield right under the hammerhead, stopping it from landing a solid blow. His own weapon lashed out, but was caught by the construct’s hand.

Elly swung her arms around her to pull in the gales that brushed by them and condensed them into a small ball of distorted air. She slammed it into the Guardian’s side right as it blocked Helbram’s blow and released the gathered winds as a focused blast of force. The construct was thrown to the side and bounced before catching itself on its feet, but a good deal of distance had been created between them.

Helbram rushed to Elly’s side. “It is going to charge again, when it does, break for the device it rose with and see if it can be of use. I will pull its attention.”

The Weaver nodded and gathered wind at her feet.

Right as Aether swelled behind the Guardian, Helbram struck the deck with his hammer, igniting another rune. The construct’s eye flashed in response, and when it was thrown forward, it followed Helbram as he leapt to the side. Elly kicked off of the floor and released the gathered winds to propel herself right next to the turret. The sounds of Helbram’s continued clash with the Guardian kept urgency at the forefront of her mind, but she kept her focus upon the panel that was at the back of the turret. She recognized most of the symbols and words that were carved into the Skysteel plate, but found nothing that she could use to operate it. Experimentation would need to be done, and that was something that she had no time to do.

She abandoned the turret and rushed to aid Helbram, but didn’t have to go far. The warrior was thrown back from the Guardian’s hammer striking his shield right as he covered his flank. He caught himself on his feet, but stumbled upon landing and was only stabilized by Elly catching him.

He gave her a glance,

She shook her head.

“Then we make due.”

The duo rushed at the Guardian, with Helbram taking the lead. While the warrior was pressed less on the backfoot in this encounter with the construct, most of his engagements with the Shell ended with his slight loss. The Guardian had adapted to his new rhythm, and while it wasn’t able to wound him as easily, a few cuts still marred his arms and legs and new tears made themselves known on his brigandine at increasing succession.

Elly filled in where Helbram could not catch up. Her spells aimed to disrupt the Guardian, often with shields that caught attacks before they could fully swing or bolts of magic that struck with enough power to cause the construct to flinch. Helbram managed to land another solid blow amidst her interruptions, but though the lights of the Guardian flickered from the attack, it showed no other signs of damage. In fact, its eye flashed more than it blinked, signaling a new adaptation to their strategies.

It began to position itself to where Helbram would be in Elly’s way, or lash out with strikes that would knock the warrior aside just enough to where it could slip a quick swing towards the Weaver to try and catch her off guard. Its weapon switched back and forth between its hammer and sword forms in quicker succession, resulting in combinations that started as quick flurries of slashes punctuated by a hard swing, or a bash from its hammer to disrupt a guard so a quick strike from its blade could slip into its shadow. Elly nearly fell victim to the latter, which left her with a slash across her arm.

Helbram couldn’t manage to land another solid blow, which left his hammer one rune short from a full charge. Despite their faltering odds, he continued to engage with the Guardian without retreat, and Elly was with him. She knew both of them wanted to aid those down below, but keeping the Guardian at bay had to be their priority. If it entered the fray below, there would be no telling what would happen.

Elly managed to repel the Guardian away with another blast of force, which allowed Helbram to join her at her side.

“Zephyr, then follow my lead. Ready?”

She pulled the lightness of wind into her fingers with half a flick of the wrist. “Ready.”

Elly smacked Helbram’s back when he rushed ahead of her, sending a pulse of gray Ruhian symbols across his body. His shape became a blur, and he cleared the distance between them and the Guardian in a breath. The construct stepped to the side to avoid the swing of his hammer, but Elly was right behind him. Frost had already filled her palm when she slammed it into the Guardian’s side. Fractals of ice enveloped the construct right at the moment of impact and filled its joints to stop its movements for just a moment. It only had to struggle for a moment to shatter its restraints, but Helbram’s hammer was already aimed at its exposed flank.

The last rune of the weapon ignited, but before the warrior could trigger their effect he was knocked away from having to block a punch thrown from the Guardian right as it freed itself. Elly skipped back and spun, feeling the stray electricity in the air as static while the motion pulled it into her Circles. She released the gathered power as two bolts of lightning, the first of which the Guardian caught with its weapon, but the second struck it clean in its torso. The Shell froze in place for half a breath, time in which Helbram swung his hammer at its center. Right at the last moment, its arm moved and flared with Aether to project a barrier that caught blow right as Helbram activated the runes on his weapon. The shield shattered, but the Guardian remained relatively undamaged despite being thrown a good distance away.

“Dammit!” Helbram bashed the deck again to ignite a rune and charged.

Elly was right behind him, channeling lighting-aspected Aether through her circles. She understood Helbram’s frustration, there was a confidence in her movements, one that was telling her that the next attempt would succeed, she would make sure of-

A piercing, ethereal scream tore up from the camp below. Not one that was fueled by fear, but of rage. Cold chased after it, filling the air with a chill that broke through Elly’s concentration and sent shivers across her body. She had only felt this once before, and she knew the voice of the one behind it and the scream that stopped them all in their tracks.

Helbram turned to her, his eyes wide behind his visor. “Aria.”

In front of them, the Guardian’s eye flashed, and it leapt off the ship.

***

The Cold had only manifested once in the past, taking the shape of ice carved into the form of a lady. She wore a dress, but its details were lost within the fractals that constructed her. The only thing that was definitive about her was her hair, which streamed out behind her like water, but somehow still frozen. With her appearance did Aria for once feel the bite of winter’s chill, except it was from the inside out. This was just like the first time her nature as a Shade fully unleashed, but that instance had been done out of despair, a retreat from the hopelessness she felt at that time.

This was done from rage.

It was hers, but also not hers at the same time. Her anger had been the last flake of snow, and the avalanche that followed was carried by The Cold. There was a fear through it all, a worry deep within Aria’s psyche that this loss of control would cause harm to those she cared about, but though her anger raged, it was focused upon one target only. The one who thought he could use her to get to the ones that she cherished.

Memories that were not hers appeared in brief flashes. Of hands shackled, of an old and empty cell made of stone with only a barred window that showed only gray clouds outside. Shouting that didn’t belong to the struggles around Aria rang with a distant, warped tone, the cries of people waging battle outside the cell. For a brief moment, she found herself standing within that cold, stone room within a body that was both hers and not hers. Beyond her hands, slender and large enough to tell that she was an adult, she could see nothing else about herself. She did see a figure standing in front of her cell, facing away. They were not robed in shadow, but rather blotted out by it, a dark spot in the memory that couldn’t form the exact details. What she could feel was the power that belonged to the figure, a creeping sensation that gave her shivers beyond the chill. Beyond where they stood was a staircase. It echoed with the sounds of rattling armor and urgent voices, which were too distorted for her to hear properly.

Knights clad in silver and white armor rushed into the room, their weapons ready, but the sight of her froze them in place. It was then that Aria saw the hand that was pointed towards her from the figure, one that had been warped and mangled by a darkness that stained its skin black. Within its disfigured fingers was a pulsating orb of black. The figure spoke, its words also too distorted to understand, but whatever it said was enough to make the knights drop their weapons. Darkness swallowed them right after.

A scream tore from Aria’s throat, one formed by a voice that wasn’t hers. Despair filled it, but as it continued rage took its place, rage that held no effect against the thing that stood outside her cell. She glared up at it, and within that action did Aria find purpose.

The Cold would not let such a thing come to pass again.

She would not allow such a thing to happen in this life.

In this, did both the girl and her shadow find unity, and through this unity did The Cold’s rage storm forth.

The memory vanished, snapping Aria back into reality. Her hand was clutched over her heart, the pain inside it held both by her and the woman of ice behind her. Xanchil was in her sights, his eyes unable to settle on confusion or fear, but that didn’t matter to her. He would pay either way.

The zechanill loosed a bolt of purple light at her, but with a flick of her wrist did frost coalesce around the projectile. No Circle manifested around Aria’s head, the Aether she weilded instead funneling through the lady behind her. The spells were being cast by her hand, while Aria was just the director. She could feel that magic working, however, how the frost enveloped the bolt in an instant and Transposed the very energy of the spell itself into ice that hung in the air.

Xanchil loosed multiple bolts after that, each freezing by a simple flick of the lady’s wrist. He snarled and threw both of his hands out to unleash threads of purple from his fingers. They cut through the air at irregular and erratic angles, but the method of their approach did not matter. Aria waved her hand in front of her, and the threads turned to ice. The merchant’s magics hung in the air around her, held by frost that was fully under the lady’s command. Aria took a step forward, and the frozen spells fell, shattering against the ground. Confusion was no longer in Xanchil’s eyes.

Just fear.

Aria threw her hand forward, her icy shadow mimicking the motion as a stream of frost flew from the woman’s hand. Xanchil threw up his barrier, its odd properties brushing aside the initial blast, but failing under the continued torrent. His own shield started to freeze around him, and though she could see him motioning as if to cancel the spell, its magics were already under the lady’s dominion. The chill in the air bit deeper into Aria’s skin now, rendering her hands and feet numb, a sensation that was paired with darkness that clawed at her vision. She’d only experienced this once before, again at the time when the lady had made her first appearance. The amount of Aether coursing through the girl was far beyond anything she could normally handle, even with a Circle of her own, and her body was paying the price. Even so, she pressed on and let the magics of the lady envelop Xanchil in a shell of ice.

Aria clutched her hand, an impulse guided from memories of a life long past, and snapped her fingers.

The ice shattered, sending fragments of its fractals slicing across Xanchil and drawing hisses from behind the Zechanil’s gills. He staggered back and turned to flee, only made a few steps before Aria waved her hand in front of her to summon a wave of ice. Rather than envelop the merchant, it instead struck his back and slammed him into a tree. Ice wrapped around him and the trunk, pinning him in place.

Aria moved to lower her hand, thinking the battle done, but her arm remained raised. She looked up and saw that the lady’s hand remained up as well, and felt her rage within her mind, stronger than any mercy the girl was willing to show. Aria pulled her hand back, the motion following after her shadow this time, and she looked up to see a spear of ice forming within the lady’s palm. She fought against the impulse to kill that screamed from the lady, but her empathy for her rage made her understand why she was going this far, and that understanding weakened her resolve just enough that her shadow continued on its course. The spear fully formed, and the lady of ice pulled it back, ready to throw it.

A crash on the ground cut her off.

Both Aria and her shadow turned to face the newly erupted cloud of dust in the air, and within it they spotted a bulky silhouette that possessed a glowing eye.

A shiver traveled up Aria’s spine.

She didn’t need to wait for the dust to settle to know it was the Guardian. She could feel it, sense the power that coursed through the construct despite the creeping numbness, and if this thing was standing here, then that meant…

No.

Helbram and Elly were strong, they couldn't have fallen.

No.

It was this contraption’s fault, the reason behind all her recent sorrows.

No.

It had taken them from here, and it dared show its face here?

“NO!”

Her own rage sparked within, overwhelming the anger that she felt from the lady. Control slipped back into the girl’s hands, and with them did she throw all her might against the Guardian that flew out of the dust. Frost and ice crashed through area in front of her, its shape an erratic pulse of jagged ice that struck the Guardian and froze it in place. Her arms were numb now, vision reduced to a small circle that remained focused on the construct. It was now the impulses of the lady that were trying to hold her back, to tell her that she was being inefficient, but Aria didn’t care. That thing needed to pay.

A flash pulsed from the Guardian’s eye and a burst of Aether from its body shattered the ice around it. Aria sent another torrent of fractals its way, but those were either leapt over or smashed by its hammer. Despite all the rage that she threw at it, the Guardian kept approaching, the runes along its weapon’s handle lighting up one by one. She could feel the very air around it grow tense upon the final symbol flaring to life, and a mixture of both anger and fear pulled all she could muster into a final blast of ice that swept towards the Guardian.

The construct struck her spell with its hammer, and from that impact did a massive shockwave explode from its weapon. That pulse of raw, pure force shattered the ice of Aria’s spell, and she felt its remnants brushed against her. Power gathered at the back of the Guardian, Aria knew that she had to move. Her body wouldn’t let her.

She couldn’t feel her limbs, her vision was nearly black, fixated on how the world around her was slowing down at that moment. The girl could see the Guardian flying towards her, its hammer now shifted into the shape of a sword with its tip aimed at her chest. A bolt of Aether struck it from afar, the yell that precluded it belonged to a desperate Jahora, yet all it did was splash against the Guardian’s chest. The blade drew closer, and in her numbness, Aria didn’t know what to even feel. She stared ahead, her fate close, but at the corner of her vision, did she see movement.

That of Helbram flying through the air.

The warrior crashed into the flank of the Guardian with his shield, its runes alight and barrier projected. They both flew towards the side, but the construct detangled from Helbram mid-flight and bounced against the ground to roll away while the warrior caught himself in a roll. He threw his hand out, summoning a hammer he didn’t have before into his hand and throwing himself in front of her.

“Aria!” His voice was urgent, bordering on panicked, but no tremors graced his frame when he saw that she was looking at him, her eyes filling with tears.

Consciousness was leaving her, the burden of her spells too great, but even as darkness filled her vision, the girl knew things would be ok.

Because her father was there to save her.

First / Previous

Author's Note: Woo! New Chapter!

And here we have the big damn hero moment for Helbram. This is another one of those scenes I had in mind since starting this book, but I admit it was more focused on setting up that last line, which I hope landed well.

Let me know what you think!

Till next update! Have a wonderful time! ^_^

NOTICE!!!! BOOKS 1 AND 2 OF HEDGE KNIGHT ARE CURRENTLY ON SALE FOR $0.99 EACH ON AMAZON, YOU CAN FIND THE LINK TO THE BOOKS BELOW!!!!

My Patreon is currently 13 chapters ahead of the public release (Arc 6 is now finished on there!), and subbing to it will also give you exclusive access to my LitRPG, Andromeda Ascension, until it builds a massive backlog to support a strong public launch. If you do not wish to sub to anything, but would like to support me in some way, consider picking up my books (they also have audiobooks!)

[Chapter 1] ; [Previous Chapter] ; [Discord + Wiki] ; [Patreon]

cw: Violence, Blood, Gore

Chapter 295 – Killer instinct - 1

In a quick flash, Shida’s eyes flicked over to James in an attempt to assess his current state after taking such a rough tumble in his condition. For someone whose body had already been through more than one wringer today, tackling him out of the way at full force like she had was certainly far from ideal.

Not that that was really something she could have given much mind to when she had followed the gargling noise that barely made it to her ears and saw that massive leg start to move, knowing in her gut that he wasn’t reacting in time. In fact, there was no thought or consideration to it at all. Her body had reacted completely on instinct, and even then she had only just made it in the nick of time before her partner would likely have ended as a smear over the carpet.

Even now, her tail was throbbing after being caught in the path of the colossus’ swinging leg right after she had barreled into James. She remembered the rough, wrinkly skin brushing against her as even the flexible extension of herself was knocked aside harshly enough to hurt even now, leaving it not difficult to imagine what might have happened had it hit anything more rigid instead.

But a sprained tail was of little concern when compared to everything else that happened, and even if she was the only one hit, her concern in that moment was certainly not for herself.

James was still very visibly out of it as she pulled him up onto a half-kneel while attempting to get him to stand; his head swiveling slightly along with the world that was most certainly spinning around him in his inner vision.

And yet, somehow, he seemed to know that she was looking as he blinked heavily twice before letting out a strained cough that sounded as though he had inhaled a whole fist full of dust just moments before.

“Still breathing,” he pressed out, clearly trying to reassure her, though it was only blessed with modest success as he almost immediately broke into a more extensive fit of coughing.

However, even then, it seemed like he deemed any focus of her on him to be misplaced as he, while still coughing, lifted his mechanical hand up to point right ahead in the direction of the still ongoing battle between giants, indicating he considered it more of a concern than himself.

Shida’s eyes followed his gesture out of instinct, soon landing on the immediate threat once more.

Right after coming out of their first tumble, the first thing her body had assessed in an instant was that they both were, at least for the moment, outside of the zodiatos’ effective range, which allowed them to take this moment of a breather.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be moving at any instant they were not watching him. And, obviously, they were also not the only ones in danger right now.

Though his attempt at turning James into a mark under his foot had failed, that was clearly only a secondary concern to the massive bull who had now taken the time to plant his foot firmly back on the ground.

Standing on all four of his massive feet, he immediately gained further leverage that he could use against the snarling reptile that still clung to his face like a horror movie scene.

Congloarch was latched tightly onto the bull’s natural weapons; using every limb with the ability to do so to grasp firmly onto one half of the Nahfmir’s tusks while his jaws buried their teeth into the root of the zodiatos’ trunk with the determination of a predator forged for millions of years to bite on and never let go.

And yet, with the zodiatos’ attention now solely on him for a moment, it became clear quick that there was still a notable difference between a tonamstrosite’s natural prey and the power that a fully grown zodiatos bull brought to the table.

The largest of the sapients moved very close to his very own world when it came to power that very few were able to challenge. And with no further distractions, he visibly prepared to let even the largest of the predators feel it; enormous muscles bulging and tensing underneath loose skin as the mountain of a bull strained to put more of his weight into his next attack.

Immediately, Shida’s eyes zipped around. Her free hand had already grabbed at empty air just a moment ago, no longer finding the resistance of the weapon that she had held just moments before breaking into her dead sprint towards the then distant altercation. She wasn’t surprised that she had dropped it at some point during her rescue given her use of her claws to stop her momentum, however she couldn’t really remember when exactly it had fallen out of her hands.

Searching the immediate area, she couldn’t find it anywhere she would have expected it to roll off to had it slipped from her grasp during the last tumble with James. Then again, in this low of gravity, there was really no saying how much it may have flown.

She found no sign of it anywhere near quick enough to be useful. However, what did catch her attention instead was the bright sparkling gleam of a handle’s sheen reflecting back the room’s dim light.

As if searching for confirmation, her eyes snapped down to James once again, just for an instant. The pointing hand was obviously empty. But as her gaze flew down to the organic side, it, too, had its finger clamped around nothing as he pressed it into the ground to try and push himself up.

It seemed that James’ grip had not been any firmer than her own.

And with nothing else in her reach, that shimmer in the thick carpet became like a beacon.

“Keep breathing!” she ordered harshly as she had to quite suddenly let go of James’ jacket, causing him to very nearly drop right onto the ground, though he barely managed to catch himself with the fist he had already pressed against it.

As she pushed herself off, an electric pain immediately shot through all of Shida's body. It originated from two places in her tail and her thigh. However, almost as though those two wounds had closed some sort of circuit with each other, it very quickly spread from in between them to soon shoot its rays throughout her whole body.

The effect was so instant and so intense that, for the first step she took to push into this renewed sprint, it almost felt as though the pain was harsh enough to stop time for a moment, leaving her seemingly frozen in place, standing on one leg, becoming nothing but a statue of frozen, electric agony.

It was nothing but a trick of the mind of course. But, during it, she could feel the very moment in which her injured leg wanted nothing more than to give out underneath her. The very moment in which her muscles were right on the brink of simply ceasing their service to leave her falling rather than running on that side of the body.

She could feel the instant as her body teetered right between tension and failure, like a thin sheet of ice that was ready to break under even the remotely wrong movement.

Something inside of Shida spoke to her in that moment. Something primal. Something that looked ahead as it wanted to run. Something that saw its target. And it knew: Her leg was injured. It would not hold much longer. And if she missed this step? She was not getting up again.

Around her was thunder. Behind her, a partner who’d no longer walk himself. Ahead of her, a raging giant locked in the last throws of a beast at the end of a hunt.

Enormous. Fighting. It knew it was large. It knew of its might. It did not want to become prey.

It was built to fight.

But...only to fight.

Shida broke the spell as she exhaled what remained in her lungs into a primal sound that drowned in the thundering noise of the room. Her claws extended into her boot, pressing into its sole as they tried to gain more traction while her injured leg strained against her weight.

Her body and her voice were equally crying out as the pain of that pressure shot through her, and they both screamed in triumph as she pushed right through.

Time resumed in an instant as she tore ahead, closing the minimal distance as she made a sharp turn to lean down and grab onto the glimmering handle once more.

In a positive turn of fate that felt so rare in these moments, the pivot actually had her bearing all her weight onto her healthy leg this time, allowing for all her usual strength as she took that momentum with her into the sprint.

A zodiatos’ brain wasn’t as fast as that of a human – much less that of a myiat. And with all the colossus’ focus on the more ‘even’ opponent before him, the Nahfmir had as little chance to react to her charge as James had to react to his own kick just seconds ago.

But, unlike James, there was no one to cover for that weakness as the by now almost familiar hilt laid like an extension of herself in Shida's hand, cutting through the air as though it had no weight as she brought it upwards.

In a mirror to what she herself had felt just moments ago, the thrust struck the zodiatos’ leg right as it was on the apex of its tension – right when power would be translated into strength.

His skin was thick. His muscles thicker. But the blade’s edge was thin. Lethally thin. And with her healthy leg once again taking the pressure, Shida had more than enough force behind her strike to drive it in deep.

She was no swordswoman. There was no finesse to her strike that would allow for a clean cut like James might have done. Just a thrust into flesh.

But it was also not brutish. It was not unaimed. Though she had no immediate skill with the blade, that did not mean she did not know exactly where to strike.

The gurgling sound from earlier soon repeated itself. However, even after that last one had been caused by the pain of a giant maw biting onto his face, this outcry of the Nahfmir still sounded somehow more distressed than the last. Possibly because he had not been ready for the attack.

Shida tried to pull the blade back with her as she realized she had to retreat. However, even the slightest buckle of the colossus’ leg upon the thrust had already squeezed his rough and wrinkled skin down around it, trapping it as though in a tight hold even as dark, thick blood streamed out from underneath the protective layer, which left her to uselessly pull at a weapon that would need far too much force to get free instead of a quick release.

With no other choice, she abandoned the blade, letting the hilt slip from her grasp as she jumped back and away when the titan’s muscles failed him even more; not wishing to get buried underneath the mountain of flesh should it come falling down her way.

Just a breath later, the massive leg buckled completely; its pierced muscle no longer able to hold its owner’s enormous weight just when he had tried to put as much of it against the ground as it could take.

He did not fall completely, but the knee of that leg hit the ground harshly in its descend, leaving the bull to fight for balance as he suddenly had to cope with the difference in elevation between it and the other three-fourths of his body.

Immediately, Congloarch reacted to the created opening. Though his own body certainly felt every strain of his muscles as well as the deep dent in his protective plate pushed against his insides, the low rumble escaping his chest shook the air as he gave what he still had to wrench down the Nahfmir’s head in the direction of the injury, further pushing the bull’s balance now that a part of it was further lowered towards the tonamstrosite’s level.

Blood bubbled out, both from the sides of his maw and the very end of the zodiatos’ trunk as the Nahfmir released a huff of strain and pain while he attempted to push back against the tonamstrosite’s pull, clearly determined not to be made to fall.

For a second, it seemed as though both of the giants were locked into that very struggle; pushing back and forth between remaining up and trying to make the other fall. And as both of them strained against their injuries and put whatever strength they could muster into their struggle, Congloarch’s claws began to dig deeper into the carpet, and his tail began to swivel over the ground as it shifted the exact angle in which it provided anchoring balance to his body.

Little by little, the reptile pushed up a bit further, pressing more of his weight down onto the tusks to try and overwhelm the bull’s balance over his injured leg. And, for a moment, Shida already saw the colossus topple before her inner eye.

However, just right before the moment in which she may have believed that thought could at any second become a reality, a shiver suddenly ran down her spine. Immediately, her head moved upwards, tilting back into her neck as she searched for the zodiatos’ eyes.

Even at this distance, they were barely more than black spheres in the colossus’ head. Dark and uniform, with little to no indication of movements or direction inside them.

And yet, still. Some way. Somehow. She knew exactly that he was looking at her. Knew his focus had shifted away from the giant wrestling with him.

And once again, that primal part inside of her knew the sight of a beast that was not ready to be beaten yet.

Her mouth opened. However, even if her voice could have been heard underneath the thunder of guns, she didn’t even know what exactly she wanted to warn the tonamstrosite of before it was already too late.

In a sudden shift of tension, the Nahfmir instantly stopped his resistance to Congloarch’s pressure, momentarily allowing his head to be pushed downwards while the tonamstrosite’s entire weight was suddenly left to drop along with the zodiatos’ tusks’ descend.

Then, tension suddenly entered the bull’s long neck once again. But now, instead of trying to lift against the push of the massive reptile, he first lifted the other side of his head up in a tilt.

Congloarch was left to drop, carried on by his own weight, while the Nahfmir’s second pair of tusks rose up behind him.

With his previous posture, Congloarch had managed to strategically place his own massive body in between both of the pairs. Now, with his falling body left to be pulled along as the Nahfmir pleased while the claws of his hind feet still held tightly onto the carpet, he was left to be stretched out to his opponent’s desire.

And he was more than long enough for the second pair of tusks to also be of use as the Nahfmir fully threw his head around in the opposite direction to just moments before.

The curve of the downward pointing tusk on the opposing side of his face swept the tonanstrosite up, hooking into the segments between parts of his armor as it carried the entirety of giant along.

With his own force and weight now working against him, it was Congloarch who quite suddenly lost the battle of balance, and the sound of ripping carpet spread through the air briefly as he was lifted completely of the ground in a violent thrust of the Nahfmir’s tusks.

He still held on tightly, of course. However, neither a tonamstrosite’s arms nor legs had ever been made with the intention of supporting his entire weight. And as the angle of his sudden pivot became too sharp for his arms and maulers to hold on at the same time without either his arms or his legs breaking, he was forced to let go.

His jaw still held on. But his teeth were made to bite onto flesh. To bite on and to rip, until what was in between them came loose. And come loose it did.

Another ear-shattering scream of pain escaped from the bull as he sent Congloarch flying, the scene nearly moving in slow motion as the tonamstrosite's jaws ripped the chunk of flesh they held free from the trunk.

However, even as the Nahfmir was left with an enormous, gaping hole on his face that oozed out dark blood from underneath loosely swinging flaps of skin and the hanging, torn ends of countless tendons, his gaze remained focused and followed the flight of the reptile, keeping watch even when Shida had to avert her own eyes to dive out of the way of the crashing titan; sharp reflexes alone saving her from being crushed as the tonamstrosite impacted the ground just breaths behind her in a hard enough fall to cause the ground beneath them to quake.

But, even as she dove for her own safety and her heart clenched at the sound of Congloarch's fall, the image of that that gaze still lingered in her mind.

Dark eyes narrow and clear, even as endless blood seemed to stream from his torn face. Bestial, almost demonic in its appearance.

Even when potentially mortally wounded, the Nahfmir was very far from being done.

All Chapters of Alien-Nation

First | Previous | [Next]

Discord

Buy the Author a Coffee

Ride Home

Continuing our top local story, hundreds of people report seeing a bright streak across the sky last night. The Shil’vati Air and Space Authorities deny responsibility for a strange meteorite that streaked across the sky. No response as to how it slipped past the defense net and the fleet, but they insist that it was a natural phenomena.

The meteorite slammed into a cornfield near Lums Pond, and the area is cordoned off due to ‘contamination’ by rare earth mineral dispersal. Experts speculate that a mining asteroid was knocked off-course, or a pre-invasion defunct satellite.

This forgotten stretch of Pennsylvania, an old refinery butted right up against the Delaware River, was so neglected that we wouldn’t even have to contend with border security before ending up in Delaware. After all, Delaware was a state with a severely depleted garrison, de facto run by insurgents. What did Delaware’s garrison care about what came from relatively peaceful Pennsylvania? What did Pennsylvania care about what was leaving their state for Delaware, when they could focus on what was entering from Delaware? As such, the coast was assured to be clear, and was confirmed to be so by Gavin.

Catching a ride sure did beat trying to catch a former SEPTA train after tiredly jogging through this mostly-abandoned city. I didn’t want to overtire myself, or lie in bed, paranoid that the spy was about to decide I was too much of a loose cannon and drone strike my house while I slept.

Tomorrow, after all, was supposed to be a big day. Vanguard beckoned, and I was fairly sure Amilita might’ve started growing concerned I wasn’t answering my omni-pad.

But ever since we’d walked out the front door and I saw his plastered smile drop, I’d had nothing to say for the first few minutes we’d been driving, and so far the trip was carried on in a very tense silence.

“You don’t trust me.” Gavin’s words were welcome, though they came weeks too late to have changed anything substantive. It made me wonder why he bothered saying them at all. I let his sentence rest while I finished constructing my thoughts.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to bridge things. Make amends. I’d shown him, hadn’t I? I could throw together an army with or without him, commit them to a brutal and necessary cause. I could wield the arms of my insurgency- get Pierce to throw together propaganda and disperse information ahead of time. Get word to the right people. Strike with lethal efficacy. Fly through the air, destroy what must be razed.

Except, I hadn’t done a perfect job. West Side could have been a costly mistake. What if my diversion of the three squads hadn’t paid off? What if I’d been stretched too thin after overextending to cover what Jacqueline had ended up covering? West Side might have fended them off, summoned help, any number of things could have gone disastrously wrong.

Gas was also the right call, and my troops hadn’t been trained in bio-chemical warfare, so my father hadn’t really been holding out on me.

From Gavin’s perspective, Jacqueline had come to bail me out of my own screw-up of failing to gather mission-critical information. I’d overrelied on Oscar and other local intelligence, which had been completely wrong through no real fault of his own. He was a part of their social experiment in an isolated human settlement, and I’d used him anyway to tell me what was around him.

I had needed Gavin, and my sister, and all the others to pull this off. Hell, I would continue to need them, and I could be mature about it and swallow my pride, or continue to sullenly stare out the window at nothing as we rolled past the old derelict city.

Still, he’d also kept me in the dark on some rather important matters, hadn’t he?

“Why her?” I asked. “Of all people.”

At least he didn’t play dumb as to who I meant. “Do you really think creating Jackal was my idea? I mean, I wish I could take credit for it. She’s working out fantastically, but no. No, that was all her and your father’s idea, and she caught word of what was happening independently of me. All I did was put the pieces together when I received the report she was on the move. I came to the obvious conclusion of what was about to happen and drove up here. Do you believe me about that, at least?”

No, not particularly.

But if he was being honest, then just great. My father had picked her, again, over me. Was it because she was older that he trusted her more? Was it really that she shared the right opinions privately, and knew how to play the game in our house better than I did? I supposed Elias’s apparent preferences and opinions hadn’t helped my case any. I was a risk to my father, not an asset.

Speaking of risks…

“I’m a bit young, but I like to learn from the mistakes of others through history. Many have walked a similar path as I intend, and have had a rocky relationship with your agency.”

“The Agency isn’t what it once was.”

“I’m sure your people say that to everyone they’ve ever worked with.” Okay, so my arms were crossed defensively. What of it?

“Fine.” He jerked the wheel toward the shoulder and the car rumbled over the warning strips, then slammed the brakes. The car rocked back and forth for several seconds after we came to a stop, headlights reflecting off the shimmering debris that gathered in the gutter. “You want answers, Emperor? Ask them.”

“Why don’t you wear a mask?” I went with what first came to the surface.

“I do,” he said levelly.

“Just not around me?”

“I am wearing one right now.”

“Is this one of those metaphors of ‘not all masks are physical,’ or ‘we carry our cages when we cannot escape our pasts,’ or…?” For all my joking, I let my right hand drift toward the knife as he took his hand off the steering wheel and brought it up to his chin.

If he starts peeling his face off to reveal purple skin, then I am going to have to walk home due to my driver suddenly experiencing an inexplicably bloody medical emergency.

Instead he just dragged them over his features once or twice, then showed me his hands. Something on the tips of his fingers glittered under the dome light.

“What is that?”

“Digital mask, dazzle mask, glitter mask, whatever you want to call it. Hides a face from a lot of different readers, scanners, that sort of thing. It’s not perfectly effective against all types or the naked eye, but it works on the vast majority of surveillance systems the Shil’vati are relying on.”

“What if someone just describes you?” I asked. “Dark ginger, scruffy, tan leather jacket.”

“With an incomplete database, it won’t get them very far. Besides, there are contingencies.”

“And you didn’t see fit to give me that tech?” I asked. “Didn’t think I’d find it useful?”

“You’re kind of too famous to not be spotted and identified at a meetinghouse, kid. We both know that. Besides, people who see you on the way or back might still ID you and then that’d raise questions of why you even have that. And then where you got it.”

“Wait, how is it that I can see you, but cameras cannot?” I tapped at the glowing eyes on my mask. He might have been lying, but then what was the glitter on his fingertips?

“Coincidentally, while this works against most human and Shil’vati surveillance equipment, the latest mask of yours is a purely original design, with ideas coming from both, plus a little, or a lot of extra inspiration from the Coalition exosuit. Any other questions?”

“Yeah. All you really gave me was a gravity harness and the bodysuit, and I think even those were mistakes, things I probably wasn’t supposed to even see or know about but you had to show me something. You withheld a lot.

“So did you! Zealot strike squads, trained, prepared and ready for your summons? Grouper’s alive? The Twins, too? Anyone else you’re going to spring on us when you next decide to go rogue? Tell me now and I’ll pretend to be surprised.”

“That’s at my discretion. We have a hole in our budget. What are you hiding, and why are you hiding it from me?”

“You’re going up there to do a high-risk mission. If you get captured- then what?”

“I’ll mention that you, ‘whoever you are’ are holding my saintly mother hostage, that I was threatened into doing whatever it is I get caught doing in this scenario. I’m likely off scot-free with enough waterworks, probably with another escort stuck on me who we whack over the back of the head, and then I am Emperor full time.” I felt nothing but disgust at his expression of pure wonderment, probably at how quickly I’d responded. That really hadn’t occurred to him? “Did you truly think I didn’t consider the risks and wouldn’t whip up some sort of a contingency plan?”

Rather than admit the low opinion he held of me, he simply leaned back, letting the leather of his tan jacket squeak against the dark plush seat. “The less you know, the less you’ll be able to spill if you are captured and if they crack you. And the better chance the movement has to survive a gaping hole in its side.”

“If.”

“If they find out, they will likely crack you and find out what we’re developing, and that would be nothing short of a disaster! They could form countermeasures, new tactics. That is not a risk we’re interested in sharing at this stage.

It’s because they still saw me as just some punk kid, wasn’t it? Though I forced myself to begrudgingly admit that if the aliens had more evidence than I knew connecting Elias to Emperor, or if they uncovered more in digging, then they mightpush for some rather aggressive interrogation techniques.

“Let’s say I accept that’s the reason why you insisted Jackal not tell me everything she was given access to before we left. And that the budgetary hole is indeed all spent on our research projects. I want…” ‘assurances’ were just words, and words were cheap. I could imagine myself kneeling handcuffed and blindfolded, the cold steel of a gun against the back of my head, and protesting exactly like the child he thought I was: But Gavin, you promised! “...support, in bringing the Brotherhood into the fold as loyal members to me, and to humanity’s broader goal of independence. I’ve done most of the legwork to onboard them, even bringing in a small task force to crash-course train them and help me coordinate the assault. Pierce is a miracle worker at crafting narratives, and with Radio’s help, it’ll already be everywhere.”

“Support? What do you think Jackal was there for? Let’s start with a little gratitude for bailing you out?”

We’d had a plan, imperfect though it was. It would have worked well enough to stop any meaningful intervention. Annoyingly, West Side’s complete annihilation was never an objective. If the new residents had gotten the hint that it wasn’t safe there after neighboring Bethlehem’s destruction and left to their homeworlds, then that would have been equally acceptable. As a result, I worried that the message I’d intended to deliver with Bethlehem’s utter destruction; that mind wiping would always engender this response, would be confused and muddled now. This was something I’d have to entrust Pierce and Radio to carefully avoid. Hell, they might just not even mention West Side.

“Thanks.” The word was bitter, and he cracked a teasing grin.

“I’ve never seen you so awkward as having to ask her twenty questions, and her first trying to flirt and then trying to sort out whether you were gay or if you were just put off by what she was clearly going for. Damn idiot girl practically threw herself at you so hard I’m sure Hex would have put a few bullets in her. She kept dangling answers for things you didn’t want to give up, like your face. At least you can be sure she has no idea who you are under that thing.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled dryly. “Laugh it up.”

“Hey, I robbed myself of some amazing entertainment for your sake. Let me relish what I got out of it.”

“Ah, yes, you’re so kind keeping me in the dark about my own family.”

His face lost all trace of mirth. “Would you rather there be no secrets in your family? None at all. No? Then you’re a hypocrite. I kept your secret, and I kept theirs. Would you rather employ a spy with loose lips?” He paused long enough to fish out a cigarette and crack the window, using the old car’s 12V electric lighter. The orange embers highlighted his face and exposed where he’d run his fingers over the glitter he’d used to obscure it from various sensors. “It ain’t exactly a leak if I tell you I’ve worked with your father for far longer than I’ve worked with you. Your father’s old case manager died, and he almost fell through the cracks until I tapped him as an asset. You’re welcome for the bread on the table and gainful employment while over half the state lined up for basic staples.”

“Worked with?” I quoted, slowly, and he seemed to belatedly realize his mistake as my anger finally cracked through the barriers I’d been using to keep it constrained. Maybe it was all the caffeine, but I had a sudden second wind that threatened to launch me across the center console and wrap my hands around his throat until Gavin looked me in the eyes. “I think we’ve come to the crux of our misunderstanding these past few weeks. You don’t work with me, Gavin, you work for me. Everyone does. The Field Officers report to me, including Jackal. Miskatonic reports to me. The Brotherhood reports to me. You report to me. You don’t like my upcoming mission? Send someone else.”

“Sullivan’s already annoyed and this close to yanking the plug on the mission to Vanguard and trying to send someone else, which is a seriously bad diceroll.”

“‘Bad diceroll’?” I quoted him again, eyes narrowing at his downright nerdy choice of words. “You rigged the process for me, so you can rig it for someone else. Someone less valuable to risk, who you can safely keep in the dark with minimal risk of exposure.” I didn’t like the way he’d accounted for my possible failure and capture. It was better to be his only option.

Finally, he hung his head and admitted something.

“The cold hard truth is we don’t have anyone else for the mission. Yes, sure, you did your legwork going up and down the state collecting signatures and endorsements, and that was good. Important, even. But what really mattered was what the Shil’vati thought of you, and we don’t have another ‘you’ who’s in our pocket that’s high enough in their standing. The Shil’vati will just move on to their Number Two guy if you cancel now, and we don’t have time to find who that is, let alone throw together the case for a number two guy. Even if we had a month, we might not pull it off, and it’d still be insanely risky.”

“And you didn’t think to have me blackmail the next guy in line?” I asked. “I have Grouper, and you still have Vendetta. Tell me who you have in mind and we’ll make it clear what the mission is, and as an addendum: ‘Or else your family dies.’ This isn’t that hard. You do that manner of thing all the time, do you not?”

“That’s Plan B, but that is one very, very distant second Plan B.”

“Why?”

“Do you have ties in Europe? How about Asia? Africa’s been green for over a year, recent events notwithstanding. What if they pick someone from there? I hate to say it, but America’s not the center of the universe anymore, and our once-global reach is now considerably more regional.”

“You really haven’t got anything that could do the job in a timely fashion?”

“Nothing reliable enough to make that threat credible to the target. What if they fold and go running to the Shil’vati once they’re up in space? Then we’d have handed them our mission requirements. The Shil’vati would know what files we wanted to pull,” he said, letting the smoke seep out past his stupid goatee. “They can prepare countermeasures before we’ve even deployed. So you see how there is no ‘less risky’ option. The information we’re after is everything from ‘feasibility study’ to ‘hey what did we just build? Is there a reason the Shil’vati haven’t made these things? Or is there a reason they make theirs that way instead of the way we’ve been doing?’ If what we are making is the sort of thing that scrambles the user’s DNA into a super-cancer, then we haven’t really made anything that useful at all.”

“That would be bad,” I conceded, and found myself staring into his face after several moment’s contemplation. “If we truly are that far along in our projects, why aren’t we field testing them the way we’d done with the railguns? That is half the point of the cell structure, isn’t it? Deployment, Experiment, Field Test, all at the same time.”

“I can’t explain it to you. Not without you knowing too much.”

“About my own research projects, within my own movement?”

“Something like that. It’s all- nevermind.”

I wanted to pry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to order him to tell me, but no, it really had to be this way. There was nothing to do but move forward with our plan. I looked at his face again, and wondered if I’d missed anything. Every instinct told me I had to check my work with Gavin, always with some vague sense that I was about to catch him in some lie. Maybe it was the swagger, the smile, the way he moved. His whole life was a lie. He’d broken from the government he’d ostensibly served, twice. He was stabbing in the back all the people he worked with daily. There were always things he wasn’t telling me. And God help me, I was putting my life in his hands.

“You’re not worried they’ll start digging, find you in their systems?” I asked. “Ginger, leather jacket, goatee?” I repeated. “You mentioned contingencies. That sounds handy.”

It took him a few moments, as if redacting anything that might threaten him if I was captured. “Well, for starters, I am in their system. Several dozen times, actually, under various disguises with pseudonyms that link to aliases and false home addresses, with a file system that alerts me if any of them get looked up and clicked on, and who does it. It will buy me time to either get them first, scramble the descriptors, hand a false lead, or a bullet in the back of their heads. That sort of thing.”

“How?”

Now came a heavy sigh. The kind of thing I got when someone was cornered and giving up information they did not want to, but felt they had no other choice.

“I started in the I.T. Department and kept my credentials. So a partial match lets me know I’m compromised, and by whom. My actual features are misfiled. I’ve taken precautions against that, as well. If I’m running out of secrets, that’s bad. In my work that is like running out of lives.”

I’d imagined Gavin as some cool under fire spy. Instead he was either just a nerd with nerves of steel, or someone too petrified to even show his fear. Moreover, it showed that what he’d said was true- he and Sullivan did not actually represent their agency as a whole. They’d truly gone rogue. Gavin ‘seemed to be everywhere’ as I’d put it, because he was one of the few reliable pieces they had for coordinating with me. When you were low on trust you had to do everything yourself.

“Alright. Your turn to answer a few questions. You owe me a few after the stunts you’ve pulled in the last little while.”

“Keep them short, and start driving.” I didn’t like sitting still in one place for too long, it felt like begging for a patrol vehicle to pull off and see if we needed assistance. Or for a bored weapons officer to test an orbital strike. “And consider it a professional favor, not my owing you anything.”

Slowly, the car pulled back onto the highway, steady clicks of a turn signal more a matter of habit than necessity at this hour.

“You really didn’t know?”

“About my father? My sister? My mother?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I sighed in resignation. “I should have. All the pieces were right in front of me. But no. And they’re not going to know about me.” I could only imagine how Jacqueline would take it. Worse, she was one of my only truly competent lieutenants, and her…devotion to Emperor was balanced only by her antipathy toward her little brother.

Two halves of a Uranium core, and they must be kept separate at all costs. God help me if I’m in the room when they touch.

“What are you going to do about it?”

I wanted to wash my hands of the situation. I, Pontius Pilate. Let my father’s judgment of my mother be the final one. But he’d never stood up to her, had he? Not once. The best he’d managed was a tie by drinking himself into an unresponsive coma by seven o’clock, and forgot all conversations entirely by the same time the next morning. Hardly a reliable watchman. His only salvation was that I held her son’s life in my hands. Considering our rocky past couple years, I doubted that amounted to much.

“I’m going to need you to assign someone reliable to watch over the house for a while,” I muttered. “I know resources are stretched thin but she cannot be trusted under any circumstance, nor can I trust him to control her effectively, especially not if he is to do his job. I can give you a short list of the people she still calls on the landline. Call it extra security against blackmail if you need to justify the tap, perhaps say that you heard something about that if questioned.” If I was caught up there at Vanguard, then maybe the spies could claim they’d seen some suspicious characters lurking around the house, lending credit to a desperate defense that I’d been blackmailed into smuggling the information out.

It might even be enough to swing things to my defense being plausible.

“Jackal’s the easiest to reassign for obvious reasons, but she’s also your most effective and competent field officer. She’s turned New York from almost-Green to red in a matter of weeks, part-time.”

“I assume you have other people you can count on.”

“It’s not so easy,” he muttered unhappily. “You’re the manpower outfit, the muscle. Who do you have?”

So that was the real reason he couldn’t get people into position out there. And what he really thought of me.

“She has social ties. Community obligations, too.” A real chatterbox to all her friends and helping manage town events. Could she slip out something subtly to one of them? Could she find a way to warn the Shil’vati that she had been threatened by proxy with my wellbeing? How could I turn that to my advantage? Something to ponder later.

“Then have Grouper put a bullet in her head and be done with it.”

“You want to lose Misktaonic?” I snapped, unhappy that I couldn’t see a clear path out of the dilemma. “They’ve had disagreements, but there is no line she can cross that would make him stop loving her. It’s irrational, it’s stupid, but it is the way it is.”

“I see ‘falling in love with the worst possible person’ runs in the family,” he sniped.

That stung more than it should.

Justice demanded she face the same methods she’d gleefully put to others. It would be hypocritical for me to be so furious at those who had them turn on their own family members- and then turn on my own. If that was my own free will, then I’d only be damning myself further- but no less culpable than the monsters, right? Or was it in fact lesser because they’d forced others into doing that horrific act?

Practicality demanded another approach, one that didn’t shatter my family into a million pieces.

I finally let my mask unclick and massaged my temples with a gloved hand, taking in my first breath of late summer air.

“It’s complicated,” I said, sliding it into my bag’s false bottom.

The final few turns into my neighborhood were ones I could navigate on my own. “Alright, let me out here. I’ll walk it home.”

“Don’t get snatched up, kid.”

“I won’t.”

“Yeah, sure. You got your gun on you?”

“And knife. Why?”

“A few superfans got let in on the latest batch of tourist permission passes you approved. I’m not saying they’ll jump at you from the bushes or anything, but now I know how Amilita feels, letting your most valuable asset walk himself home alone at night.” He squinted into the darkness where the headlights didn’t penetrate. “Can’t your town afford any streetlights?”

I opened the door and pulled my knife from the bag. “A wise man told me that sometimes it’s not about what you can afford to have, it’s about not needing something in the first place.”

“What’s that mean?” Gavin asked, and I just stared into the car cabin for a few seconds, and then slammed the door shut. I watched him go before I started on my way home.

The familiar terrain underfoot gave me time to myself.

Could I have become my mother, if I had been a bit older when the system flipped from hating the Shil’vati to loving them more than Earth’s native sons? I shuddered to imagine. If I’d instead grown old enough to despise my own people from boredom or disillusionment through more incidents similar to my expulsion, what would I have become?

Nothing. I am as I am. There is nothing else worth thinking about. I am me. I am here instead of a different egg and sperm from the same parents, which would have produced an entirely different me. Let alone the ‘me’ that might be if I was born elsewhere, be it in time or space, to entirely different parents. Such things are therefore not worth dwelling upon beyond advanced theory of mind strategizing. Let these emotions and ideas only let me see the world I wish to be built instead- one of consistency, honor and integrity. One that strives for independence, or at least self-governance rooted in its history with pride.

I thought of my mother.

She is a slave to a beast she cannot abandon. My heart wants nothing more than to despise her, and maybe I should, but what she deserves is pity above all. The Brothers spent years weeping for sinners, only for the sinners to finally take a step too far.

‘Honor thy Father and thy Mother’. I wonder if looking upon them and understanding I am born of them with the same weaknesses and proclivities is what is meant, and still finding room to love, or at least not loathe myself, and them by extension. I will mind my addictions, particularly to the bottle. As for gifts from my mother…I suppose I have her zeal. I must never let it turn on humanity. Though I curse my true enemy for this state of affairs, I should not excuse that humans are frequently caught in the crossfire. Hopefully, with the new technologies from Operation Prometheus, I hope to be able to prosecute a war against the Shil’ themselves.

I saw a light from our driveway, more blue than the warm garage external lights, and I slowed, crouching to get a better look, rather than freezing up.

It was a feminine figure, slender and slight of build. Her delicate face illuminated only by the screen of an omni-pad, flickering as she paged through where it hovered in front of her. At least I hadn’t frozen up, and when I saw it was Natalie I closed my eyes, let them readjust to the darkness, and blocked her out with my hand. I stared into the surrounding bushes, checking for hunched figures cradling rifles. I couldn’t make any out, and so I decided to swallow my fear and march up the driveway.

I had to hold my head high.

“Natalie,” I hissed, voice low. She jerked her head toward me and flicked the light on, then came bounding toward me. I sheathed my knife, and waited for judgment.

“Elias,” she breathed, squinting into the dark and flicking on a broad beam of light that zeroed in on me almost immediately, making me raise a hand to block it out until she switched it off. “What happened? Where have you been?”

“Bethlehem,” I admitted, lowering my hand. “I was there. It was me. The Mind Wipers were active in the area.”

“And now?”

“There is no more Bethlehem,” I said with a finality that I hoped she picked up on the meaning of. “My own mother,” I mumbled and my mouth went dry, forcing me to swallow. It tasted like ash. “She was involved.”

“What happened?” She asked, softly, pushing the omni-pad around with one finger so I could see what she’d been looking at.

It was a babbling patient, one of the ones I’d seen in one of the most dramatic records and marked for Pierce to disseminate, the image of his arched back as he pulled on his restraints, juxtaposed against the patient profile of him back when he was whole, before their involvement, with crimson words on a black background: THEY WILL COME FOR YOU NEXT. Then it was him, his back arched on the chair as technicians huddled around him, the mind-wiper scraping his mind and sensory organs all at once as he thrashed and tried to get the helmet off, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. ONLY WE CAN STOP THEM.

I knew just how we’d stopped them.

Both Larry and Verns had agreed that ‘tragic, but necessary’ was never an easy sell when a rival could just lie, and the handyman especially had emphasized that politics was ‘nothing but lying.’ Would the Governess insist that her people had done nothing of the sort, that we were just excusing a massacre?

The screen flickered again, and I reached to stop it so it froze at-

GET ORGANIZED.

Pierce’s propaganda reel was juxtaposed against a floating second window, the off-screen display that hovered in the open night was less bright. My reading was far less adequate than my conversational skills, much to Lady Rakten’s dismay, but I could tell it contained an alert to not visit Pennsylvania due to ‘a possible mass casualty report.’

“We did,” I growled. It had my blood boilingme baying for blood once more to see it all over again, and I was only soothed with the certainty that the same would soon be happening to the ones responsible.

“And where is your mom now? I’ve known since the bridge how much you hate Mind Wipers.”

I glimpsed at the windows through my mother’s beloved but dying boxwood, noticing how shadows shifted from the kitchen light over to the front dining room. Just like I thought, my parents were home, and I could just imagine the tension inside. Did I really want to walk in on that? Even dodging them in my usual way might no longer be acceptable, as each might try and pull me into their sphere of influence. I might once have longed to be wanted by my parents after years of feeling superfluous, but now the idea made me feel sick with how empty and self-serving it all seemed.

“She should be home now, inside. Safe, I think. I don’t know if I can bring myself to go in. I have no idea how I’ll look her in the eyes.” Or any of them, for that matter.

That thought threw me for a moment as I considered the inverse.

How would they ever look me in the eyes, if I removed my mask in front of them?

“What were you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Probably lay on the patio deck furniture, rest for a few hours. Get dressed in the morning before anyone else is up, get breakfast, and get out before anyone sees me off. Leave a note or something saying I am headed to the spaceport, throw a leg over the bike and ride down.”

“Is that what you’d normally do?” Natalie asked, golden eyes searching. “If tonight hadn’t happened the way it did, I mean.”

“No,” I admitted, looking away in shame of the truth. “I think…I’d hope for some admission of pride from my father.” How could I admit that my Dad had finally said he was proud of me for being all the things I wasn’t? Maybe I could play the inevitable morning nerves off as stress before ‘my big day,’ going to a space military academy only a couple months before my eighteenth. They would probably be committed to making staying focused on my mission difficult, which ironically would make completing the mission unwitnessed next to impossible.

She wrapped her arms around me. “I can think of somewhere more comfortable than the back patio. Come on, the car’s just around the corner. You can make a decision tomorrow morning.”

I smiled ruefully. “Don’t tell me your mom sent you here to make sure I didn’t get cold feet.”

“More like tradition. Spending the last night with your intended, before you go. Besides, where would you even lock the bike? At the spaceport?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t even thought to ask my parents or arrange transport.

Then she looked a bit nervous, revealing the slightly anxious schoolgirl I knew Natalie to be underneath all that bravado she’d been putting on the past couple months.

“Leave your night-mare behind, and let me have this night with my mare?”

I couldn’t help but snort. “That was terrible! And I’d be a stallion, thank you very much!”

“Terrible enough?” She asked hopefully, leading me by the hand toward the flying car. I had to fight the urge to bolt, to sprint just like the wild and frenzied stallion I imagined myself to be. To where, I didn’t know. Somehow this was more terrifying than the prospect of marching into Bethlehem, even though it promised me nothing but pleasure, relief, and release from the torture of the dying’s screams.

Maybe I felt like I hadn’t ‘earned it’, or certainly deserved far worse. Far be it from me to embody that joke of ‘I’ve been a bad boy,’ or whatever sick perversions people joked about, but I could also not shake the idea that there was something twisted to my living so well while I could play with perfect recall the screams of the dying I’d sent to Hell.

No, what I’d done was good, moral, and necessary. Pierce’s messages were filling the airwaves faster than the Shil’vati could even piece together what had happened. By tomorrow, no matter what evidence they gathered to the contrary, they’d be stuck using our version of events. We had the truth on our side, the crime. All they’d have is the aftermath, the punishment in kind for their great sins.

The car door rose, revealing the sumptuous passenger compartment laid out as a flatbed along the elevated floor. Natalie twisted and pushed herself onto it backwards, then beckoned me closer, until she leaned forward, grabbed me and pulled me to lay beside her, the door sliding shut behind us while she wrapped her arms around.

All Chapters of Alien-Nation

First | Previous | [Next]

Discord

Buy the Author a Coffee

Sandra landed in the street, near the hedge where the tagger had disappeared at, and she frowned a bit as she saw a silver Dra’Cari in the area as well, searching. “Mar’Dra?” Sandra asked hesitantly.

“Yes?” the silver Dra’Cari looked up from where he was searching along the ground, only to blanche slightly as he saw Sandra. “Reaper Wyvern, uh, hi.” He quickly stood up, standing borderline at attention. The former Reaper Trainee had lost badly to Sandra the first time they had met, and his attitude had made him lose his Trainee status. After that, Sandra had lost track of Mar’Dra, as he had never gone to any Reunions afterwards, despite invitations to join them.

“What are you doing around here?” Sandra asked, a little bemused at the silver Dra’Cari’s awkward and semi-formal attitude.

“I…well,” Mar’Dra said. “I’ve been assigned to track down someone that had tagged a house a few streets down. Apparently, it was with some rather culturally invasive and heinous insults that has the Centaurs in Security up in arms over. So, they gave the job to me, since none of the Centaurs could separate their feelings from the case.”

“So, you work in Security now then?” Sandra asked, walking around the Dra’Cari.

“Yes, well, since I couldn’t become a Reaper, I figured it might be a good change of careers for a bit,” Mar’Dra said, slightly bitterly. “Being a bounty hunter was good money, but, well, it just kept making me angry about what I lost. So, once I got here, I figured Security might be the next best thing. Pay’s not as good, but the benefits are better, and I’ve been told that the job experience looks good on a resume.”

“Huh,” Sandra said.

“So, what are you doing here?” Mar’Dra asked with an awkward cough. “And, uh, when did you get wings?”

“Oh, the wings are a ‘gift’ from my Teacher,” Sandra used air quotes around gift to show what she thought of it. “Useful, but took way too long to learn how to use properly.”

“I…heard about what happened to Eric, and some of the other Reapers,” Mar’Dra said. “I’m sorry about what happened. So, the wings are from him then?”

“No, they’re from someone else to decided he wanted to teach me a while back,” Sandra said, shaking her head. “As for what I’m doing here, well, my house is the one that got tagged, so I’m doing my own investigation.”

“Who would be stupid enough to tag a Reapers home?” Mar’Dra asked, frowning.

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out,” Sandra said with a smile.

………………….

“Huh, now that’s odd,” Mar’Dra said with a frown.

“What’s up?” Sandra asked, looking up from where she was searching in another section of a bush.

“Well, I’m not sure,” Mar’Dra said. Sandra frowned as well and walked over to take a look at what Mar’Dra was seeing, freezing in place as she saw some rather familiar looking scorch marks near the bottom of the bush.

“The cameras didn’t pick up a teleport flash,” Sandra noted, pulling up her datapad to double check.

“While it does explain why we lost the tagger, that’s not actually the odd part,” Mar’Dra said, pointing. Sandra leaned in for a closer look before she finally noticed it; an odd, three-pronged device that was charred in such a way as to almost disappear among the scorch marks, right in the center of them.

“The shit is that?” Sandra asked.

“Based on the location, I almost want to say it’s a one-time use personal teleport,” Mar’Dra said, snapping pictures of it. “But it’s not any model that I recognize. And while I know they’re slowly coming onto the free market here on the Ferry instead of only being reserved for the away crews, they’re still insanely expensive.”

“That does make it odd for a simple tagger to use,” Sandra said, leaning forward to pick up the odd device.

“Sorry, but can you not touch it?” Mar’Dra asked apologetically. “I gotta call this into my CO, and while I know you’re doing your own investigation, I’d rather not have the scene contaminated.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Sandra said, pulling her hand back and standing up to get out of the way of his photos. Mar’Dra blinked in surprise before going back to take pictures of the scene. “So, what happened to that arrogant asshole that challenged me to a Reaper Challenge because they thought I was only capable of taking cheap shots?” Sandra asked in amusement.

Mar’Dra winced at that. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, as he sent the photos off to his CO and pulled a few flags from the pouch at his waist.

“I don’t hold it against you, I was just a kid at the time,” Sandra said. “I’m just curious why you’re so…awkward now.”

“Well, I got beat into the dirt, literally, by someone a third my age and half my size,” Mar’Dra said, shaking his head as he began planting the flags for better visibility. “And I lost my position as a Trainee for it. Once I changed from being e merc to Security, I was able to take a closer look at why I was so arrogant.” Mar’Dra gave a mirthless chuckle. “That and I was beat down a few more times during sparring sessions while going through Security training, which really reinforced that I wasn’t nearly as strong as I thought I was. So, yeah, I guess you could say I literally got some sense beat into me.”

“Reaper Wyvern, Detective Mar’Dra, please respond,” Sandra suddenly heard through her datapad, and Mar’Dra frowned as he tapped the comm on his ear.

“Detective, wow,” Sandra said, smiling a bit as she pulled up her datapad.

“I just paid attention, that’s all,” Mar’Dra mumbled. “Detective Mar’Dra here.”

“Reaper Wyvern is also here,” Sandra said as she pulled up the call. “Hey, Ferry.”

“Hello, Sandra,” Ferry said, her face on screen. “Apologies for this, but I’ll be taking control of the investigation from here on out. And while I don’t have any official control over you in regards to your own investigation, I would like to request you to work together with Detective Mar’Dra in order to catch this tagger.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Sandra asked while Mar’Dra looked surprised.

“The device he sent to his department got flagged by some of my automated scripts,” Ferry said with a slight frown. “If it is a teleportation device, it’s not one used by Ferry crewmembers, nor one we have in our markets, which indicates outside use. And the fact that there were none of the usual signs of a teleport on camera where the tagger disappeared seems to indicate a rather sophisticated version, or a hacker that erased the footage.”

“A hacker? In your systems?” Mar’Dra asked skeptically.

“I’m not omniscient, even on the Ferry,” Ferry said in amusement. “Even for a Lamnacorta, the amount of data I have to process daily is staggering, so things can fall through. My systems might be harder to hack than a ship without a Lamnacorta, but not impossible, especially if my attention is elsewhere.”

“Huh,” Mar’Dra said.

“Either way, I am running a debugging script now throughout my systems just to be safe, and to see if there was a hacker that erased the footage. In the meantime, I need you to get that device to the closest lab and have them examine it thoroughly,” Ferry said. “And I want you and Reaper Wyvern to track this person down. This investigation just became a top priority.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Mar’Dra said, giving a salute.

“Oh, and because you decided to give yourself some work, Command is going to be extending your mandatory vacation time by another month once you’re done with your investigation, Reaper Wyvern,” Ferry added to Sandra.

“Oh, come on,” Sandra complained. “Why?”

“We have rules against over-working for a reason, Sandra,” Ferry chuckled. “And since you Reapers have a tendency to be workaholics, we have to enforce them even harder.”

“Stupid break rules,” Sandra muttered as Mar’Dra snorted slightly, trying to cover it up in a cough. “Fine, but I’m finishing this investigation then. Consider me partnered with Mar’Dra for the duration.”

“Excellent,” Ferry said. “Please deliver the device as soon as possible then.” The screen went blank as Sandra put her datapad away.

“Stupid rules,” Sandra muttered again as she shook her head while Mar’Dra pulled out a bag and carefully began to pull the device out of the dirt. “What?!” Sandra demanded as she saw Mar’Dra trying to hide a smile.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Mar’Dra said.

……………………..

“Are they still out there?” Silverlight asked, yawning a bit as he stepped walked upstairs to see Brightpaw holding Lighttail, the Centaur kitten napping in her arms while Dutch held Lightclaw.

“I think so, but Dutch has set up a privacy field, so they can’t disrupt us,” Brightpaw sighed, keeping her voice low. “Thankfully. It was hard enough getting the kits down for a nap yesterday with all the noise.”

“Not that it hasn’t stopped them from trying,” Dutch said in amusement. “They tried using the speakers from one of their vehicles for a minute to scream their displeasure at us. Security shut that down by threatening noise violation fines, and arrests when the protestors started to get belligerent.”

“Oh, nice,” Billy said, looking outside to see the opaque shield. “Mom has been trying to convince the Principal to apply for permission for one of these at the school. I guess being family to a Reaper has its perks.”

“It does, but this isn’t because Sandra is a Reaper,” Dutch said with a smile. “The school has plenty of privacy with the concrete wall, as well as several defenses if the protestors decide to try and push their way onto school grounds. Not to mention the students are rarely outside in a place the protestors can easily see, so it’s been deemed unnecessary for now.”

“Wait, defenses?” Billy asked.

“There’s a reason the Principal keeps asking students not to jump the fence,” Dutch said, giving Silverlight and Billy a meaningful look. “He’s been letting it slide, since the protestors are making it difficult for non-Human students to go through the main gate, but normally jumping the wall like that would be met with stun bolts from turrets along said wall.”

“Oh,” Billy said, his face going slightly grey. “Uh, sorry?”

“The secondary issue with the privacy field, unfortunately, is that it’s a two-way blockage,” Dutch sighed. “Not only does it block people outside from getting in or seeing/hearing us, but it prevents us from hearing or seeing them, at least without cameras, nor can we leave without dropping the shield. So, we’re basically isolated in here.”

“Oh,” Billy said.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d want to get trapped in school,” Silverlight said with a nod. “So, I guess going to the Forest to hang out with the Tree Shadows is out then?”

“Not unless you can convince Shadowstrike or Nightshade to teleport you there,” Brightpaw said with a nod. “And even then, make sure you do it downstairs so that you don’t wake the kits.”

“Oh, there’s an idea,” Silverlight said, perking up a bit to rush downstairs.

“Uh, would they be able to teleport both of us?” Billy asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you guys, but getting out for a bit would be nice. I could use a change of clothes after being in the same ones for a couple days now.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Brightpaw said, hushing Billy as Lighttail squirmed a bit in her sleep.

…………………………..

“Fascinating, absolutely fascinating,” the Archkama engineer said as he pulled the charred device open.

“That’s a transponder, isn’t it?” Sandra asked with a frown as she watched the Engineer start taking pictures of the interior.

“Indeed it is, good eye,” the engineer said, his spider-like body scuttling around the table to get pictures from various angles. “But the way they put it in there is absolutely fascinating.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s so fascinating about this thing, please?” Mar’Dra said a little peevishly. “I can’t really put ‘fascinating’ in a report without context.”

“Oh, sorry,” the engineer said. “You see this crystal here?” He pointed at a rather oddly-grey crystal that had a large crack through it.

“Yeah,” Mar’Dra nodded.

“Well, if this is what you think it is,” the engineer said, “then this crystal right here is a teleportation crystal, similar to the ones we use in our teleportation beacons. In our beacons, however, we take a crystal and split it into two parts, the Primary Crystal, and the Secondary Crystal. The Secondary Crystal will always teleport back to the Primary, or as close as it can safely get at least without displacing anything that’s not a gas. Unfortunately, it takes a lot of power still, despite our best efforts, meaning that the beacons have a long ‘cooldown’ period before they can be reused.”

“Yeah, Reapers are issued 3 emergency beacons to get around that cooldown,” Sandra said with a nod. “And if all three are used, we’re not allowed back on mission until all of them are recharged, which usually takes a couple of weeks.”

“Precisely,” the Engineer said. “This crystal, however, does not appear to be broken off of a larger crystal, meaning that it’s only the teleport beacon.”

“So, the transponder acts as the location triangulator then?” Sandra asks.

“Yes indeed, if my theory is correct,” the Engineer said as he began to pull parts out of the device. “And I’d be willing to bet two of my legs that this here’s the reason for why no teleportation what picked up on the cameras,” he added triumphantly, pointing at a bundle of wires connected to another crystal. Sandra’s scales began to crawl as she looked at the crystal. Something about it just felt…wrong. “Yes, you would be one to notice, as an albino Targondian,” the Engineer said with a nod.

“What, what’s wrong with it?” Mar’Dra asked, frowning as he looked over the little bundle.

“Well, if it’s what I think it is, I’m afraid that’s above your clearance level,” the Engineer said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, get that diagnostic down and start testing quickly,” Sandra ordered with a shudder. “And get it sent to Command immediately. I think this is bigger than even Ferry is aware of.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” the Engineer said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “I joined the Research department specifically for fascinating equipment like this. I might not agree with it, mind you, but it’s fascinating to see how other people achieve or attempt to achieve the same results of our own technology.”

………………….

“Care to explain what all of that was about?” Mar’Dra demanded as they stepped outside the lab.

“Mar’Dra, you know how it is,” Sandra sighed. “If something is Reaper-Level Classified, I can’t just tell anyone. Especially non-Reapers.”

“I get that, but I have my own job to do here,” Mar’Dra said, his silver scales shimmering as he stepped in front of Sandra, preventing her from getting into the hover-car they had arrived in. “Look, you might not like me very much, and with good reason. But if we’re going to be working on this investigation together, then I need something to work with here.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Sandra huffed. “If anything, I’m actually impressed with how much you’ve mellowed out over the last several years. But there are procedures in place for a reason, you know. And this is the kind of information that can cause a lot of problems if too many people find out. Namely, panic.”

“Try me,” Mar’Dra said, crossing his arms as his tail twitched in irritation. “You’re supposed to be my partner for this investigation, aren’t you? So don’t let me walk into this situation blind. That’ll cause more harm than good as we figure this out.” He met Sandra’s glare, standing in the way.

“Let’s give Ferry a call,” Sandra finally relented. “We’ll see what she says.”

“Better than nothing,” Mar’Dra said with a nod, opening the door for Sandra so that she could get into the car.

Sandra pulled out her datapad as Mar’Dra started the car up, and a moment later they were airborne, with Ferry, looking at Sandra with concern. “I take it the preliminary did not go well?” Ferry asked.

“The preliminary report should be getting to Command shortly, and no, it’s not exactly good,” Sandra sighed. “But I need permission to grant Detective Mar’Dra temporary Reaper-Level Clearance for anything pertaining to the investigation.”

“Granted,” Ferry said immediately. “Is he there right now?”

“Driving us back to the discovery site to see if the street boys have dug up anything,” Mar’Dra said.

“Good,” Ferry said. “Mar’Dra, I know you used to be a Reaper Trainee. So, I trust you understand when I tell you not to abuse the clearance. It will only pertain to anything related to the case, and should you go digging, Reaper Wyvern will need to be there. Otherwise, you will lose your position in Security and the clearance will be revoked immediately, particularly if we find you’ve been abusing the trust given to you. Are you still sure you wish to proceed?”

“I can’t do my job if I’m being intentionally blinded,” Mar’Dra said with a nod. “I’ll accept the risk.”

“Very well,” Ferry said with a nod. “Reaper Wyvern, that vehicle is secure and will be cut from outside information until you get out of it when you hang up with me. Use that time to catch him up to speed with whatever you need.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Sandra nodded. Ferry cut the call, and Mar’Dra cursed slightly as he suddenly had to adjust his course, as the autopilot disengaged and the map froze.

“What’s so important to warrant this?” Mar’Dra asked.

“The Markers,” Sandra said, putting her datapad away. “If I’m right, that second power crystal, and probably the first one as well, was a Marker crystal. We’re not entirely sure why, but all of their crystals give off odd readings, even if they do the same thing as the Reaper Crystals. The Tree Shadows notice it first, and I do as well, but they always feel…off. It took a while for us to figure it out, but it’s because Marker Crystals give off a signal in EM wavelengths. As far as we can tell, it doesn’t do anything other than just function like white noise, but for anyone EM sensitive, like the Tree Shadows or albino Targondians like myself, it’s just damn creepy.”

“Okay,” Mar’Dra said slowly, thinking. “So, if there’s a Marker Crystal, potentially two, in the same device…”

“It means that at a bare minimum, the Terran Federation is involved,” Sandra said with a nod. “If not the Markers themselves. Which is a disaster waiting to happen, seeing as each Marker is a near-match to a single Reaper, at least in terms of combat capabilities. And there are more Markers than there are Reapers.”

“Shit, yeah,” Mar’Dra said, tapping a claw into his steering wheel. “Now I see why it’s Reaper-Level classified. I know you guys don’t exactly advertise anything bad about the Markers, or the Terran Federation as a whole, but people talk, and we can still see the news. If people knew that we were being targeted by people that are Reaper level combatants, it would induce a mass-panic.”

“Yeah,” Sandra nodded.

“So, why would they leave a piece of equipment behind like that?” Mar’Dra said, frowning. “That seems like something you would want to keep from being found, if you’re looking to sabotage the Ferry.”

“Yeah, that’s the part that’s confusing me as well,” Sandra agreed. “Normally, Marker equipment has a failsafe that destroys the equipment. We’ve still managed to do some research into what they’ve been using, usually by accidentally destroying the failsafe during a fight, but even single-use items like that would normally just be a pile of slag by now.”

“Maybe some idiot didn’t know what it was before using it?” Mar’Dra suggested.

“If only we were so lucky,” Sandra chuckled.

“So, wait, if that’s the case, how come Ferry didn’t ask for clarification when you asked to give me temporary clearance?”

“You kidding?” Sandra said. “As soon as I mentioned the preliminary report was bad and you needed clearance, she was probably already looking through the cameras at the lab to see what was so bad about it and noticed the crystal. Either that or she’s been watching since we walked into the lab with it. She’s a Lamnacorta, meaning she is the ship. I’d be willing to bet she was waiting for that call to get you clearance as soon as that crystal became visible to the cameras.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Mar’Dra conceded. “I keep forgetting that technically we’re living inside a sapient being.”

“Yeah, she likes it like that,” Sandra said. “Athena might be the Progenitor of Lamnacorta, but Ferry is the Momma of everyone who lives here, including the other Lamnacorta.”

Prologue Previous Next

Appendix

TOC

[Sandra and Eric TOC]

The head of the medical department heaved a big sigh, even though its species did not technically have lungs. This had been a very embarrassing experience. It had never needed to deal with another species’ reproductive organs in any depth. Other beings kept their reproductive organs inside their bodies, like normal people, and mostly didn’t even need to think about them until mating season. They certainly didn’t talk about these things outside of their own species. The human doctor it had spoken with had just…told him about human reproduction and sexuality. Just laid it all out. With pictures. It shuddered in remembrance of that conversation.

Now, he had to decide how much of what it had learned to pass on to its whole department. And then he would have to write a report to send on to the major medical stations’ Heads of Medical, as well as something to tell the military. Oh, yes. The military commanders were not going to be happy to need to know this. He needed to include instructions to only ask human medics for any additional information needed. The doctor has told him that the human military were very casual about the subject. And that they were always in season. And liked to have sex, a lot. The doctor had tried to tell him about something they called ’stress relief’. He still didn’t understand how that worked, and really didn’t want to.

First, he thought, was the alert to medical personnel on site. He could worry about the military later. Maybe he could get the senior doctors from the main research institute to talk to the military. Hmmm, that had possibilities…

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Attention all medical personnel:

You are to actually look at human biology, based on actual scans, before assuming that a human male has a soft tissue injury. Human males keep their reproductive organs on the outside of their bodies, between their legs. Yes, really. Apparently that is a major reason the humans wear body coverings.

If you are not absolutely certain of a soft tissue injury, meaning bleeding, do not attempt to debridement in that area. The human will scream and attempt to run away. If cornered, they will become violent. If there are multiple humans in the area, the females will laugh hysterically, but other males may attempt to leave the area with the patient. They may threaten you with live weapons until you go away.

To avoid this behavior, always listen to the patient. If the patient is unconscious, another human male should be consulted. Do not listen to the females in this instance. They may attempt to ’play a joke’ on the male, and the male may react violently once conscious.

It is suggested that the same protocols be used for human females, although they apparently have their reproductive organs mostly inside. The females carry mammary glands on their chests that provide nutrition to their offspring. Unlike most species, human mammary tissue is always present and not just when lactating. The females tend to be touchy about the size of their mammary tissue. It is best to never mention it unless bleeding is present.

In conclusion: reread any available information about the human body. Please do not cause another interspecies incident regarding humans, like last week.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

First

Lisa stared at her male coworker for a moment. “This could turn out to be a kidnapping situation.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?” She lowered her voice as if the rest of the office didn’t already know. “It could be another 4/11 case.”

Kai met her eyes with a rare display of intensity.

“That is exactly why I want to talk to him.”

It was no use arguing, once he got serious nothing short of the Station Master could stop him. Out of options, Lisa relented with a sigh.

“Alright. You’re in. I’ll talk to Vitalis, she’s dealing with the boy first, something about a translator. Happy?”

“Very.” now back to his default state Kai sipped his steaming mug. “Call me when I can see him.”

Without waiting for a response, he slithered off to some other part of the office.

“That man is going to kill me some day.” she muttered.

Kai was a good officer and coworker, but at times he could really get under her skin. She didn’t… Dislike him, he was a man after all. She just couldn’t stand him, and the way he made her feel. Like she was about to fall a long ways, or that feeling when you see the thing you had been searching for the last hour, only to be disappointed. And that was just his direct impact on her. She also had to deal with the way her other coworkers talked about him when he wasn’t present, or the way they flirted with him when he was. that really ticked her off.

Shaking the negative thoughts out of her head she turned to her computer station and began creating a summons for Amina and Elisya Sersher. Any units that passed near enough to either of them would be pinged by the vehicle’s onboard AI notifying the driver that they were wanted for questioning. With a little luck they would be brought in by the end of the day.

---

August had calmed down since the odd woman had left him to stew in his new unpleasant reality. Now that he wasn’t about to cry, he was ready to ‘get on with it.’ Sure, he was in a time and place he didn’t recognize, but he could make this work. Yes, he was extremely ‘useful’ as one man out of a hundred people, but all that didn’t mean his life was over. His loss aside, he was actually growing a little excited to see what the future held. Heck, he was on a positively GIGANTIC SPACE STATON for crying out loud. Not to mention space flight and aliens. There was without exaggeration an entire galaxy for him to explore, and that was worth hanging in there. But first things first. He needed to get the attention of his, translator? mass of energy in the shape of a woman? her, whatever she was. More questions for later.

grabbing the phone-thing she left on the table, he fiddled with it for a bit. Eventually he must have turned it on, since the ‘screen’ lit up displaying a large red button labeled: “Call”

shrugging he firmly planted his finger on the button and waited. he didn’t have to wait long before the door reopened, the fractal woman entering followed by the spider-centaur and a new face.

walking in behind the two women he was familiar with was a short reptilian woman, the figure left no doubt about that. Standing about 3-4 feet tall she resembled a miniature bluish grey dragon minus the wings, her skin a smooth scaly texture. She stood on two feet with a pair of arms connecting where you would expect, her fingers and clawlike feet tapering into obsidian nails. Behind her a short somewhat fat tail swayed slightly. On top of her head sat two squat horns with a matching pair of metallic rings on each. probably jewelry of some sort. Her clothing consisted of a sleeveless turtleneck, knee-length skirt and some sort of sandals, all topped by her white lab coat and an expression of near manic curiosity, as she vibrated in place. 

“Are you feeling better now August?” Called his translator.

He nodded in reply. “Yes, thank you for giving me some time to sort myself out.”

“That is good.” she gestured to the spider-centaur “This is the station chief Vitalis, she is the top security officer on the fourth level of Nest.” She turned to the mini dragon next. “And this is Yuzu, she is the resident doctor and will be conducting your medical exam. If you have any problems with a female doctor conducting your exam we can arrange for a male to perform the exam instead.

well then. If he had any doubts about how much value he held in the current society this would be the moment they vanished. He was basically a VIP in a large police headquarters hogging the attention of the sheriff and getting preferential treatment from the med staff.

Oof. He was not ready to be treated like this.

“Uh. No, I am fine with the doctor doing the exam stuff.”

Vitalis and Yuzu both looked at Lillis who translated for them.

Nodding, Vitalis stepped forward. “We will be conducting the medical exam before the lingual transfer; we want to be sure that everything will go smoothly.” Lillis translated.

August nodded. “Sounds good. Uh, Ma’am. Just tell me what to do.”

Vitalis nodded. “Very good. Follow me.”

shuffling out the door he passed the doctor who excitedly waved a tablet in his general direction. Whatever the screen displayed must have been interesting, he could see her pupils dilating to saucers as she read the display. She didn’t look up until they reached the medical ward.

Walking beside Vitalis’s considerable bulk He didn’t see a whole lot on the way, but what he did see, would not be out of place in 90s earth. Indeed, he was starting to get a nagging feeling that he was in the middle of a futuristic society that was paradoxically stuck in the 90s. his thoughts continued until they met a large pair of sliding doors with text and pictures he didn’t understand, though once they opened, he had a good guess what they said.

entering the medical wing, everything he saw was mostly familiar. Sterile white walls and floors, the smell of chemicals/ozone and many branching halls lined with rooms, some occupied and others locked behind formidable looking doors. Passing several rooms and halls he was led into what would be his exam room. The room was fairly normal, if a little large, some cabinets on one end topped by a counter and shelving above and a sterile looking bed/exam table on the other.

Yuzu entered first and immediately went about prepping in an almost frantic manner. Leaving her tablet on the counter she started pulling out a plethora of odd medical devices and equipment from various drawers and shelves. She looked kind of cute the way she had to stretch for items on the shelves or stand on her miniature sized office chair to reach the items higher up. As she went about her gathering of supplies Vitalis stood next to him while Lilian made herself comfortable on one of the extra seats.

“Here is where you will be given your exam and lingual package if all goes well.” Vitalis said, her words being relayed by Lilian. “Some of the testing requires you to be mostly undressed for it. For those I will be just outside the door, you may call for me at any time and for any reason. We are here to keep you safe and to take you to your next of kin unharmed.”

“Thanks.”

Next of kin, huh. He wondered if he even had any.

Turning to the doctor Vitalis said something before leaving. “He is all yours doctor, notify me when the exam is completed.”

“Heard.” Yuzu replied without looking over.

Setting the last of her tools on a side table Yuzu finally turned her attention to August.

“Hello, as the Station Chief told you I am Yuzu. I will be conducting a full physical, psychological and Axomatic series of tests on you. This will serve to give you a clean bill of health, but-“ she took a gulp of air. “Before I can conduct any of these, I will require your consent to proceed.”

Lillian served as translator to the seeming annoyance of the little dragon. Which was slightly amusing to watch. August wasn’t sure how far or behind medical technology had come in the time he was gone, but it seemed Yuzu needed his consent before she could begin. Perhaps rashly he agreed immediately.

“Yes. All good on my end.”

“Excellent!” Yuzu shoved her tablet in his lap. “Just place any finger on the screen.”

Taking the tablet back when he had finished, she faced him fully.

“Alright. Which test would you like to complete first?”

He didn’t think long. “lets start with the physical.”

Should he be worried about the look in her eyes?

---

“But.” Tisa held up a finger. “Consider this.” Waiting a moment for suspense she continued “Post sex cuddle session.” A choir of ‘ooh’ and ‘Ah’s told her that her point had gone over well with her crowd.

The eight girls from the Rapacity were making their way from Reactor Four to the Thunder Dome arena, where all the mech fights were held. The journey wasn’t far, but it still took them from the twilight section where the light was comparable to a sunset, into one of the ‘night’ sections where neon ruled.

In spite of it being local ‘night’ in a night section, the group was happily (mostly) walking along, still chatting about the best way to get laid, and best way to get laid.

“Okay. You got me there.” Elisya said, “But I still think the best part is making out before and during.” This point wasn’t received as enthusiastically as the first but still went over well.

“I’ll tell you what the best thing is.” Vexa called from the back, her drunk sister hanging off her shoulder.

“Not again.” someone said facepalming.

“Having a sober sister.” Vexa finished with a snidely. “And unlike your fantasies this one is easy to come by.” This point didn’t land. Instead, it elicited a bunch of groans.

Elisya, the de-facto group leader, rolled her eyes. “Oh, come off it already. You have been bitching about her for the last half hour.”

“Yeah, you were the one who gave her the idea to shoot her shot.” Kiki shot back.

“Uh, huh. She’s your sister after all. You should be the one to carry her.” Tisa said in solidarity.

“Easy for you to say, it’s not your intoxicated sister threatening to hurl all over your best clothes.” The Feli shot back entirely unfazed. “Now can we please get her detoxed? There has to be a Center around here somewhere. And besides, she won’t remember anything if she’s wasted the whole time.”

They would never admit it, especially to each other, but the two Feli sisters were close, and always looked out for each other.

“Aww. You really do care about her, don’t you” teased Sisu the youngest of the Khob triplets.

“Can it, moss head.” Vexa spat. Some chuckling was had at the obvious denial.

“Alright.” Elisya relented with a snicker. “Everyone vote. Raised hands are for a detour to get Nixis back. All in favor?”  

Vexa, the three Khobs, Amina and Rena raised their hands.

“Alright then.” Elisya pointed to Sisu “Find a local map and tell us where the nearest Med Center is.”

“Ugh, why me?” Sisu complained, pulling out her communicator.

She fiddled with it for a moment before perking up. “Oh. Cool, there is one just around the corner. Just that way about 2 streets down.” She said pointing.

“Alright, let’s go.” Elisya said, leading the group forward.

Vexa let out a little ‘Yuss’ under her breath. Shouldering her snoring sister again, she made to follow the group with a renewed pep in her step.

Walking the predicted two streets they found the Med Center on the first floor of a business center/apartment complex. These mini hospitals were basically an emergency room where patients would be stabilized before being moved to a larger facility. But they were more often used for treating minor things that weren’t worth the trip to a larger facility. Typically, they were family owned and operated. Like this one probably was, if the name on the sign was to be believed:

Stitcher Family Med Center.

Just inside the waiting area a synth sat at the check-in counter.  Noticing the group coming in she perked up, putting down her communicator.

“Welcome to Stitcher Med Center. What can I do for you?”

Elisya gestured to Vexa with her head.

“Go ahead” She said stepping aside as the Feli came up to the counter, cargo still snoring on her back.

“I need a detox treatment. She had a little too much to drink earlier.”

“Absolutely. Her let me just-“ The synth pulled out a medical scanner from under her desk. Waving it at Nixis it beeped the screen reading out some basic health information, but most critically; blood alcohol levels. “Wow. She really did over do it.” She remarked.

Placing the scanner down she pulled out a credit reader. “She’s not in any danger beyond a bad hangover, a metabolic band ought to do the trick. They run just under thirty credits.”

With the slightest eye-roll Vexa went for her communicator. Shifting her sister on her back without success before Amina picked up the unconscious Feli.

“I got her.”

“Thanks.” Vexa mumbled as she made the payment.

“I’ll be right back with that.” The Synth said skipping around the corner.

“Wow. Thirty whole credits. You must really care about her.” Sisu snickered.

Vexa turned to her with a look of annoyance. “Don’t get me wrong. When she wakes up, she is gonna pay for every chit.”

Rounding the corner again the Synth girl handed Vexa a small purple wristband with a small Trytite plate attached to it.

“Just put this on her, anywhere is fine as long as it doesn’t fall off. in about an hour the plate in the middle should discolor and snap in half. Please dispose of it properly when that happens. When the band breaks, the treatment is complete. She might have to use the restroom but should be back to normal. Thank you for coming in and please come see us again if you have any cuts burns or scrapes in the future.” She concluded with a smile.

“Thanks.”

Their detour complete, the group left the clinic and resumed their walk. Though once outside Amina had given Nixis back to her sister.

“Alright. Now to see some spine tingling mecha destruction!” Elisya fist pumped the air with excitement.

She took one step when they were illuminated by the flashing lights of police.

“Aww shit.” Said one of the Khobs as the officer exited, looking from them to the scanner in her hand.

The device must have confirmed something as she pocketed the device and fixed her eyes on the group’s two tallest members.

“Amina and Elisya Sersher. We have some questions we would like you to answer. Please come with me.”

LastNext

"That doesn't make any sense. Are you drunk?"

"Hear me out," Zorbalax insisted, "I can explain."

I shook my head and stacked another bag onto the tower I was building in his arms. "As long as you can explain while carrying this fertilizer for me. If we don't get the shelves restocked by ten, the boss is gonna shout at me again and my doctor says I need to watch my blood pressure."

Zorbalax nodded and shuffled along after me, unable to see over the huge pile of twenty-kilo packs of chemically-fortified soil but trusting me to guide him. "Sure, sure. So, like I was saying, humans' greatest strength is their weakness."

"See, you're losing me already. How can strength be a weakness?"

"No, no, you've got it backwards. Their weakness can be a strength." I had known Zorbalax for a long time, but this was starting to worry me.

"Isn't that what I just said? If strength is weakness, then weakness is strength. Which is nonsense, strong is strong and weak is weak. Obviously."

Zorbalax waited while I shifted fertilizer from the tower onto the shelf until the flimsy metal creaked faintly under the strain. "Hmm. I guess you have a point." Finally! "But it's only the second one, how weakness is strength, that I'm talking about." Sigh.

"Okay man, dazzle me with this brilliant insight of yours. Oh, and take a step this way.. yeah, some customer left a rake in the aisle again. It's like they don't think."

My friend bounced on his toes and cheerfully followed me to the next shelf. "All right, try to follow along here. How many of these bags could a human carry?"

"Pff.. maybe five, if he was trying to show off? I don't think he'd have any breath to spare arguing with me, though. Like I said, weak is weak."

The stack had shrunk enough that Zorb could make eye contact over it again. "Right, but human merchants move more goods every day than we do. So ... how?"

I thumped another sack down onto the shelf and stopped to think. "They use one of those little cart thingies, right?"

Zorb's tail curled in the way that his people used to signal agreement. "Exactly. Instead of getting stronger, they made the work easier."

"Yeah, but it would make the work easier for us too. They have to either buy or build a cart just to move as much as we can, but the cart doesn't make them stronger than us. They're still spending more and doing less than we could with the same tools."

Zorbalax handed me the last bag of fertilizer, brushed imaginary dirt off his hands, and we set off back to the store-room. "Sure. But they invented it before we did. And with old, basic tech, that's not a big deal. But just like they're always behind us in literal muscle power, we're always behind them when it comes to pushing technology ahead."

"Look, I'll be the first to admit that humans have invented some cool toys. But I think you're taking it a little too far, now. Can you think of any technology where the human version is the best? Hold your arms out, we're doing cement next."

As I loaded him up with the powdered mineral mix, he pressed his point. "They've invented a lot more than some. Pick a tech, any tech you want, the humans are ahead of three quarters of the rest of us. It's a different three quarters for each tech, too, and over the past few centuries their version has been the first as often as not. You know what they do with all those inventions?"

"Yes, Zorb, they sell them to the rest of us. I did go to school you know, I took this job because I like the climate here, not because lifting heavy things is my only skill."

"They sell them to the rest of us, and they use them. There's a reason that out of 57 known space faring species, more than thirty percent of occupied systems are part of the Terran Republic, Korg."

I hefted one last bag of cement mix onto the pile and tapped Zorb's shoulder to let him know it was time to follow me back into the store-front to stock the shelves again. "And you want me to believe that reason is that humans are weak, therefore they invent things faster?"

"They do say that necessity is the mother of invention. And nobody needs to invent more ways to make work easier on themselves than humans."

I had to give him that one. The collective pouting of the human race when it had reached the stars and found out that they were actually among the least physically capable intelligent species was legendary. Every other species was more fit in at least one way - more agile, more durable, or physically stronger - and most of us surpassed humans in at least two out of those three.

"Okay, it's true that they need to do more work leveling the playing field than the rest of us. But their success is mostly down to the fact that there's just so zotting many of them, isn't it? I mean, their ships and tools are good, sure, but the main reason they always win is that it's like playing cards against a rich man. They just bully you into folding by committing more to every single hand than you can afford to risk. And if you do manage to win a hand, it doesn't even really hurt them. It just means you get better terms when you eventually lose."

Zorb shuffled to a stop and carefully set down the cement mix so he could help me line them up neatly - the conversation was slowing us down and we didn't want a lecture about being lazy from a man who had never lifted more than his own body weight in his life.

"That's a result, Korg, not a cause. They have a lot of worlds, and people, and ships, now. But they started with just their home the same as the rest of us, and by order of discovery they're number 45 out of 57. Since they were discovered they've gone from one star to owning more than the rest of us put together. How did they keep winning before they were the biggest player?"

That was a real puzzler, and we worked in silence for a while as I thought it over. Raw population density was a factor, but compared to advanced technology, a bigger navy, and more territory, it had a pretty hard upper bound on how much it helped.

"Traded excess population to other empires for an early advantage, and took more than they gave with their initial allies?" I hazarded, not really expecting that to be the answer. Humans were notorious for trying to impose their own morals on others and more than one derelict had been towed to civilization and set adrift with PEOPLE AREN'T CARGO, MATE written on the hull in carbon scoring. Societies changed over time, but this would be a pretty radical departure.

"Nope!" Zorbalax cheerfully confirmed my suspicions. "It was three things: reverse engineering, cooperating with enemies, and a whole lot of cheating."

Setting the last sack of cement atop the pyramid, I admired our handiwork. "What are you, a history professor now? Why are you suddenly so knowledgeable - and so interested?"

"Not yet! I'm using my wages to help pay down my tuition, working on a xenosociology degree whenever I have enough for another class." I hadn't known that. Zorb was more of an intellectual than I had given him credit for.

"Oh nice, good on you mate. But I don't really follow how those things prove your point."

The boss poked his head in and gave us a dirty look for standing on the shop floor not visibly busting our asses, but we were on schedule so he didn't actually say anything. I was so smug, I didn't even mind that I could feel the balance of the argument shifting.

"Right, so, the first thing that happened when humans were discovered is that they got tangled up in a war. Big surprise to everyone, despite being weak they survived and the Dezlan had to sue for peace because they had over-extended trying to wipe out the humans and everyone they'd ever pissed off suddenly wanted a piece of them. How did the humans fight a much more advanced and stronger species to a standstill?"

"Well, you kind of gave me the answer already. They figured out how the Dezlan's tech worked."

"Exactly!" Zorb's tail was twitching excitedly. "The humans needed less time to figure out how to operate Dezlan weapons and ships than it took the Dezlan to train their own troops. Humans are so used to breakthroughs that the Dezlan's most pessimistic guess was that they were ten generations ahead of human scientific progress, but ten years was enough for the humans to use almost every one of their own technologies against them."

My friend shook his head, putting on a disgusted expression. "And then the Morban rolled through after taking half of the Dezlan's territory, and tried to crush Terra before they could use that stolen tech to become a serious player."

"Wait, the Morban-Terran War was that early? But that would mean..." My head was starting to spin. "No. There's no way. They survived the Dezlan, but they'd just got the crap beaten out of them and they still had only one world. That can't be right."

"Oh, but it is. And, one minor but important correction. They had only one star system, but several worlds. Their population had taken a big hit, but in the twenty years it took the Morban to win and the ten years it took them to secure the territory they'd taken from the Dezlan, humans had been breeding and building shipyards like crazy. And then, of course, the impossible happened."

I was nodding along in spite of myself. "The Impossible Alliance. I remember as a child, thinking that must have been a bit of human propaganda. That there was no way what they said had not been some kind of exaggeration or spin. But you're telling me it really happened."

"It sure did. See, nobody was listening to the tiny handful of scholars that had actually read the huge pile of historical texts that Terra had made publicly available. What kind of idiot would trust what someone told you about their own history? Except it was, broadly, true. Human cooperative societies began so far back, it's arguable if they'd even finished evolving into a fully separate species from their closest relatives. They didn't have a choice; they were too weak to live as independent individuals like most of us did back in our early days."

"And one of the things it taught them was how to live with people that they had been enemies with, is what you're saying?" I was no expert, but the implication was obvious.

"More than live with. If you gave them a reason they could accept, they'd learned how to cooperate in the name of survival so well that they'd work with yesterday's enemies to defeat today's. And the Dezlan, well, they didn't trust the humans, but Terra didn't even ask them to - only to show up and aim their guns at the Morban. Most of the galaxy was just as shocked as you were when they found out what had happened. Certainly the Morban didn't expect it."

"Now that I can believe." Human ships during that war had been built too quickly; they were armed, and numerous, but they weren't up to the rest of the galaxy's standards. Something like one ship of every three had deliberately sacrificed itself to screen the much better designed, heavier Dezlan ships of the line, which had promptly taken revenge on the Morban in truly epic fashion. Humans and Dezlan had almost had a fistfight at the negotiating table arguing over who would own which stars when the fighting was over, but in some inexplicable way they had come out of it as allies, less than half a century after the Dezlan had literally tried (and nearly managed) to conquer Terra itself. It was, well, impossible.

"And you said the third thing was... cheating? Are we still using card games as a metaphor? I'm not sure what cheating at real life would even mean."

Zorb glanced over my shoulder and grimaced. Uh oh. I grabbed a pair of trowels, tossed one to him, and we quickly scooted outside to do some busy-work weeding the big flower display in front of the store before the boss could catch up and start ranting about chatting while on the clock.

"Humans cheat all the time, at everything. Did you know they have a GalaxyNet page that does nothing but keep track of how many interstellar laws only exist because a human did something that nobody had thought needed to be explicitly illegal before? Last time I checked, it was more than seventy percent. Seventy percent, Korg! It's a point of pride to them. Their home world dealt them a bad hand and they've been countering it by stacking the deck ever since. They've made cheating into a zotting art form."

"All right, I think you need to calm down a little. Every species has people that try to take advantage of oversights in the rules, it's not something that only humans do."

Zorb 'accidentally' yanked a weed out too forcefully and spattered my face with dirt. Real mature. "Okay, yes, mister spoil-sport, it's a matter of degree. But one of the newer species being so heavily over-represented is not just a bit of statistical variation. I'm thinking of making this my thesis at school, actually. Right after the Morban-Terran war, Terra had relatively average technologies and a fistful of systems to start with, and then within a hundred years they had reached #4 on the list of species with the most territory."

Gaining multiple worlds suddenly by turning the tables in a war was not unusual, for a mature species. Jumping from around fortieth place to fourth in one of the best metrics for overall power was on a wholly different scale. The species that had been the top three (and were now ranked two through four) had been the only space-faring species for more than five thousand years before the rest of us came along, and the difference between the current holders of fourth and fifth place was easily a full order of magnitude.

"So how did they manage it? I'll concede that they have done a lot of shady things, but since each one has been outlawed, it's not like they could just do it repeatedly."

Zorb was smirking at me as he tossed another fistful of weeds into a bucket. "How much did you say you would wager on that?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "I didn't say anything about a wager. But humans are also the ones most likely to .. what's that saying .. to throw the book at you if they catch you breaking the rules. Are you trying to say they're just being hypocritical, that they actually break the laws and are just better at not getting caught?"

"Not exactly. But think back. We've already agreed that they're really good at coming up with and making use of new ideas, and working together." I supposed we had. And, I realized with a start, I had stopped thinking that it was ridiculous that those things that gave humans such an advantage were because of weakness.

"They apply those advantages to everything," Zorb continued, "not just to work and war. Nobody has ever gone to the trouble to prove it, but the timing of a lot of events is ... suspicious. A new law would come down, too late to stop the first person who had found the existing gap in the rules, but it would turn out that a hundred human companies and government programs had been doing the same thing, and they would also be forgiven as having happened before the change."

He was really warming up to his subject now. "Humans didn't snatch mining and colony rights to one world and then get stopped, they'd grab those rights on one world in each other species' territory all at once. They'd apologize, and it wasn't against the rules at the time, but all of a sudden they had forty or fifty more worlds. And of course, they needed to build trade routes between those worlds, and they were scattered all over explored space."

My expression must have shown my horrified comprehension - Zorb was nodding rapidly and gesturing with his trowel. "It all looks so natural and harmless, and then before you know it, they're everywhere and our own laws make it illegal to kick them out without a formal grievance that will probably end up starting another war. And the more times they get away with it, the less appealing it is to go to war with them."

"They make money on every trade - and they trade with everybody. You know, on average, most species only have official trade and nonaggression pacts with seven to ten others? The Terran Republic has one with every species they aren't actively at war with." My left eye was starting to twitch and Zorb was still barrelling on.

"They usually win without even having to fight, and you remember what happened the last time someone was mad enough at them to actually start a war." I had been so cocky when this argument started, but I was completely lost now.

The latest major interstellar conflict had been little more than an object lesson on the importance of correctly identifying your friends and enemies. A coalition of four species had attacked the humans. By the time news of the war had reached the farthest corners of settled space, it was over. Two of the four had turned on their supposed allies during the very first battle because the humans offered them a better deal before the shooting had even started.

Seriously outnumbered even without counting the possibility of reinforcement by human forces that would have had to travel to reach the conflict zone, the two remaining aggressors had been surrounded and forced to surrender in well under a year.

The worst part, at least to them, was that of course Terra immediately resumed trading with them, and its navy would rescue their ships or colonies now that they had lost too many resources to provide those emergency services for their own kind. It would probably only take one generation before they were among the humans' allies.

The Terran Republic was well on its way to being in control of all of explored space, and we were paying them for the privilege the whole time.

Because being weak had made them too strong to challenge.

Chapter 1 this is chapter 2 Chapter 3

“Clay can be found by rivers and streams. But is this Clay or mud?” Max asked himself with a handful of brown mystery earth in his hands.

It's not falling apart as I hold it, so that's a point for clay, but it's not a clay color; it should be gray or something.

While Max was pondering the mystery of grey modeling clay and brown pottery clay, he was unaware that he was being stalked.

It feels like clay; there is no harm in trying to make a pot out of it and see if it works. Being able to boil water instead of bashing coconuts and drinking gross coconut milk will be so much better—

“EEEEEEEEEE”

“AHHHHH”

Before Max could react, a mana mutant rabbit attacked him, sinking its teeth into the meat of his thigh, and like a rabid dog, it clenched on and would not let go. It also did not help that Max was a foot deep into a muddy riverbank.

“Get off my damn leg, you furry demon."

Max, with all his courage, started to punch it in the head with all his might, but a few things about Max. One, he has never been in a fight. Two, he has never knowingly killed anything bigger than a fly; he mostly tries to shoo them back outside. So when a twenty-pound rabbit started to chew on his thigh like a carrot, it took many hits, but it was killed eventually.

“I think I hit myself more than I hit it.”

He stated correctly.

Why would a rabbit attack me? And why is it blue? Hmm, my thigh is bleeding and bruised, I'm covered in mud, and I'm starving. I don't know if blue rabbit is safe to eat or not, but anything is better than more coconut. And the bite does not seem that bad; I think keeping pressure on it is the best I can do for now. The stream is not salty, but I'm iffy about drinking it or using it to clean the wound.

After moving out of the muddy stream bank and taking the dead rabbit, he started walking back home to the lean-to; he made it yesterday. His hands were full, one to carry the rabbit and another to keep the wound as shut as he could.

Grate just grate. I'm muddy and bleeding. It's the best way to start off a day, but at least I will get to eat something that is not coconut flavored.

---

“Mark, how's the last few engines doing? Have you broken them yet, or should I put my swimsuit away?” Grant asked, holding a pile of clothing that may or may not be a swimsuit.

“You rat bastard. It's not my fault that the enchantments want to destabilize and turn back into natural mana; it's those damn mana surges,” Mark said with as much venom as he could stuff into those words.

"I may be a bastard, but I'm not a rat, Mark. Now if you want to keep slinging slurs around, I can just leave and take the good news with me,” Grant said, egging on Mark.

“If you don't have a pile of mana-enhanced copper or another master artificer in your sleeves to help with keeping these last five engines going, then I'm going to throw you off the ship myself because this better be important,” Mark said while deep in the levitation engine, replacing the lift rod with the one from seven.

“Nope, my sleeves are somewhat empty right now, but I have news that might be just as good. The mana surges seem to have stopped. That big one eight days ago seems to have been the last.” Grant said, and could see the stress leaving Mark's body.

“Really? You're not messing with me, are you? If you are—" Mark was saying before Grant interrupted him.

“Yes, it's true. I would have been here in the morning to tell you, but I made the mistake of going to the captain first, and she had so many questions to ask about it. The worst part was that none of them were stupid, so I couldn’t have left my apprentice there.” Grant said with regret.

“But getting to the meat of it, there will most likely be no more of these mana surges anymore; now the captain still wants to head to where they were coming from.”

“Grant, we are limping along. I got one and two fixed, and I might have this one up and running in a day, and maybe engines six and five in a few days IF CERTAIN SOMEONE COULD PUT SOME EFFORT INTO THEIR WORK!” Mark shouted the last part, causing the eavesdropping apprentices to scurry back to work.

“Finally putting them to the grindstone and not babying them anymore? You were too soft on them; they won't learn if you don't challenge them, and trust me, right now they might curse you, but once they become masters of their craft, they will thank you… eventually.” Grant said while Mark was still in the engine, trying to get the lifting rod to fuse to the shell of the engine. So any damage would happen to the base metal and not the mana-enhanced brass.

Mark and Grant chatted; Mark would ask Grant to fuse a few pieces of copper to save on his mana to get his work done faster.

“So how long until we get to this place? Please tell me it's not much farther.” Mark wined

“Two months, but if you can get those other engines working, we could be there in a month. Find the thing that caused all this, send some of the guards down below to see what metals are around, and hopefully fix the rest of the engines. Then we can be home in six months. And with all those mana surges, there's bound to be a bounty of mana-enhanced material for us to use.” Grant said, overly hopeful.

“Well, at least the end of this forsaken mission is in sight. Do you know how many times the enchantments down here overloaded? Four times, FOUR. One time is supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence if you're lucky or unlucky. Engine three had its copper piping turned to salt because someone transmuted salt into copper to save some pieces, I'm guessing, and it turned back because of the stress. Engine five got its lifting rod overcharged, and it ripped out; six just exploded, completely destroying itself, and took most of seven with it.” Mark exclaimed, and he wasn't wrong. Enchantments are usually very stable, and having one fail is something that can make the news for months, but four?

These mana surges have been quite odd.

---

I love Blue Rabbit; it just has a tang to it or something. I know I probably didn't cook it right, and the fur smelled bad when it caught on fire, but every last part of it was amazing. I don't know if it's just that I'm kind of starving or not, but I think that was the best meal I ever had. I think that parts of it were still raw, but those were even more delicious. If I get sick, it will totally be worth it.

While Max was enjoying the blessing of a poorly cooked meal of questionable quality, he started to clean up as much as he could with his wounded leg. Planning to sleep it off and hope not to get an infection.

Waking up, the first thing Max did was regretfully crack open a coconut and drink as much of the milk as he could, swearing today he would make a pot so he could boil water or die trying. The second thing was to check the bite wound on his thigh.

The bite wound doesn't look that bad? I think? At least it's not green or any other weird color, so that has to be a good sign, hopefully.

“Ok, so I got clay, and now it's time for that one art class I had when I was a kid where I made a crappy bowl to pay off,” Max said, hoping he would not need to drink coconut milk anymore.

While Max was getting the clay, he got extra just in case and made a bunch of deformed bowls and pots. He would only get three out of the nine he made not to crack or shatter because he did not let them completely dry out, and the trapped water turned to steam.

Ok, one hand-sized bowl and two gallon-sized pots survived. Not too bad, if I say so, and I do. Now this water has just started to boil; it's time to let it cool and get the next pot boiling. No longer will I have to drink coconut milk. If I had any blue rabbit left, this would be a wonderful day, but I don't, so it's water and coconut for dinner.

Max was thinking to himself as he carefully moved the boiling pot of water with two sticks to the flattest part of his little home, right before he tripped on an old coconut, spilling all the water and shattering one of his large pots. So as Max lay there in the hot mud, coating his body, he could only think of one thing.

I hate coconuts.

~<> ~<> ~<> ~<> ~<> ~<> ~<>

“Second to last item for your consideration,” Hantan said, addressing Quel’vela in her throne room. A palm gesture from the Lady indicated consent for her to continue. “It’s a message from Lady Daunt. She wishes to express her sincere condolences for your recent misfortune. As someone who’s gone through adversity herself, she knows how piercing the sting of loss can be. Matters of estate wait for no woman though, and Mistress Daunt believes this unfortunate incident shows the value of her earlier offers. Should your Ladyship wish it, she is willing to once again grant the use of her highly trained and well-equipped security forces to ensure the safety of you and your subjects, now at a revolution long five percent discount. Lady Daunt gives you the privilege of two weeks to make your decision.”

“Does she? How considerate.” There were cracking sounds as Quel’vela tilted her head to the left and right. “I elect to craft my reply now. Her generosity is touching, and almost as appealing as breakfast after I’ve processed it. This new proposal has similar attractiveness, Ms. Daunt’s newfound charity allowing me to have one whole revolution where a mere seventy five percent of the total economic output of my sector is consumed by her fees, instead of four fifths of it like every one after. That being said, I will extend my own sympathies. It is a trial to know who is worthy of trust, and the discovery by Internal Security of yet another assistant who’s been found guilty of financial treason due to tax fraud must be vexing indeed. Being nad stabbed by an underling through shady accounting for the fifth time in eight revolutions is startling, and I’m sure will be equally shocking the sixth time it occurs. A grave hardship to be taken by so many dishonest and completely independent bad actors.” Quel’vela breathed deep, her shoulders rising and falling with the action. “Up to this part, I am content with your ability to paraphrase my words and convey my general thrust. For this last section, I require you to copy it complete and unaltered.”

“As you wish, Mistress.” Hantan pressed the screen on her smart pad and waited.

“Tell Daunt I have lost my daughter, not my brains. If she wishes to inflict the bottom sludge of Braxon society on one of her ‘peers’ under the guise of security, she must find someone desperate and stupid enough to not see through her schemes. I suggest polling the local population of infants and sewer vermin. As for future favors, the only one I desire is for her to go to Apex and confess her obvious and crude crimes against the Dominion and our Queen. Whether she begs for mercy is up to her.” Quel’vela closed her eyes and sighed.

“Anything else my Lady?”

Opening her eyes back up, Quel’vela smiled, tusks sharp and said, “No, that is sufficient, thank you.”

“Feeling better, Mistress?”

The smile widened. “Yes, I do. How astute of you to know I could use a pummel puppet. Haven’t vented this much bile since Barta tried to use her favorite team’s Arena Ball loss as an excuse to take my scheduled night with Losen.”

“A pleasure to earn your compliments, my Lady. But if I remember correctly, there was one additional topic you desired to discuss with me?”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder. The agent, Utri, was here the previous afternoon. I believe your perspective could be valuable.” Quel’vela gave a detailed run down of what occurred in her visiting room. Hantan asked one or two questions to clarify statements, but otherwise remained reticent until her Lady was done. She kept her repose for a jot after, Quel’vela permitting her the honor of being waited on while Hantan collected her thoughts.

“Seems to me she’s already got a working theory and has moved on to gathering evidence to support it.”

Quel’vela made a triangle of fingers and thumbs. “I take it you have an idea what this theory is?”

Her Vicer nodded. “Deadly Dessert. Or Poison Pie, as I’ve heard a few refer to it as.”

Regal as she bore herself, Quel’vela managed to sit straighter. “Pardon?”

“The name may seem fanciful, but what its referencing is quite serious. Put a delicious dessert in front of a hungry woman, and it’s the rare one who’ll ask many questions about where it came from or the ingredients. They gobble it up, and before the hours passed, they’re dead.”

Frowning, Quel’vela said, “I understand the literal definition of the phrase. What I don’t smell is how it applies to…my situation.” Her glance slid to the side for a tick as she completed her sentence.

If Hantan noticed, she displayed no sign of doing so. “Mistress, what would you say is the other bodily desire which can lead to foolish decisions?”

The frown on the Lady’s face became pursed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“My Lady, you asked what theory the Int Sec is working with. I gave you my best guess.”

Upon hearing Hanton speak, Quel’vela’s visage drained yet more of its warmth. “I expect more from subordinates, especially from my Vicer. Do not show such disrespect for the Queen’s officers again.”

Hantan averted her gaze downward for a tick. “My apologies, Mistress. I forgot myself.”

“Yes, you did.” This pronouncement was allowed to hang in the air for several moments before Quel’vela continued. “Now then, I believe you were justifying your speculations about my daughter?”

“Explaining what I understand to be the enforcer’s view on the matter concerning your daughter, my Lady.”

Spreading her fingers and palms wide, Quel’vela said, “Well, do you agree with this view?”

Hantan didn’t answer at once. When she did, her voice had a touch of softness, and the pace of words was considered. “A great number of the details she highlighted from Kaa’syi’s testimony are suggestive when said out loud in succession.”

In contrast, Quel’vela’s vocalizations were taught as strained cabling. “So, you think Bri’Akti was a fool.”

The Vicer replied in a tone yet softer than before. “I know there are people of ill intent on any planet. To be young is to lack experience, and it is no insult to note some prey on this lack. Many full-grown women let their hopes and appetites lead them to disaster. Otherwise, those in the security profession wouldn’t have a common label for it.”

Quel’vela placed an elbow on the arm of her throne, setting her chin on it. She looked at a spot to the right of Hantan’s head and breathed with deliberation. Her Vicer said nothing, leaving Quel’vela free to muster command of herself. The woman’s gaze was unmoving as she spoke. “Given what you have told me, will Utri be arresting the child whom my daughter was courting?”

A shook head was Hantan’s opening response. “He’s not the end of the story. There’s another factor to determine here: Whether we’re tracking the work of a lone predator or the frontwoman for a pack of them. That’s why Utri asked your star daughter to give her assessment of human student’s attitudes towards our girls. She’s going to determine how much stink this outhouse has prior to cleaning it.”

“So, my Lady-in-Waiting may have been targeted by a conspiracy of male children. Am I supposed to take this as the most plausible explanation for her demise?”

With a sigh, Hantan said, “No, not quite like that. The theoretical plot may have been executed with young, unlined palms, but the planning could have been done by a great many people connected to this boy. We can’t know until more is discovered.”

“I can smell the validity of such a stance.” Hantan nodded. “Leave me, I have much to ponder.” The Vicer prostrated and did as she was bid.

Murder. Assassination plots. Phrases and concepts lurking in the background of Quel’vela’s mind ever since her daughter disappeared. She’d tamped them down. There was no need to borrow trouble before its debt was due, but that was looking like wishful thinking now.

Her sector was red. Red, curse it! She’d defeated the maladies which plagued other, lesser Ladies. There was no cause for simmering resentment here, she’d been meticulous in her efforts to abort the gestation of it, along with all other attendant sources of strife in her territory. But apparently it might be for naught, undone by hatred nursed under shadow and covered by inoffensive perfumes. Out there, somewhere, did a woman lurk with malice under her breast, potent enough to behold a child and contemplate carefully planned murder?

What could motivate such fierce perversion, to consider the death of teenagers as an acceptable means of action? The newest subjects of the Dominion hadn’t conquered malformation of the brain, another lack the Queen’s best would soon correct. Was that all? An untreated mental ailment compelling a woman to host irrational anger against her benefactors, and use some mysterious hold over a boy to force him to do her bidding? An easy and seductive thought, the cause of disaster as unaltered by outside choice as a star going supernova.

Too easy.

Possible? Maybe. But not to be relied on. No, there was a real chance the woman behind this wasn’t sick, merely foul. Lady Daunt was a perfect example of how a person could be free of all reasons for wrong choices, except being rotten to the center of her soul. Goddess only knew how her finest and first grew so twisted.

Quel’vela had to consider the ramifications of gutless knaves who’d stoop to child murder infesting her sector. For where there was one, there could be more. A thought struck the Lady: Women talk, children listen. Kaa’syi was convinced the native boys were keeping their distance from brax girls. Assuming for the moment this wasn’t wholly inaccurate, why would they do that? For the first time, human males were being shown proper women, strong and capable. Ones who knew how to treat the fairer sex, not like the slight and soft excuses for femininity she’d seen among the natives. How many times had she witnessed the previously unfathomable sight of a brax approaching a human woman, only for her to shy away and seek shelter behind a nearby male? Such cowardice might be excusable for the young or geriatric, but these were healthy adult women using their boys as shields. Perhaps to be expected from a society so lost to error they sent males to fight wars.

Despite being in the privacy of her chambers and having no one to communicate to, politic or impress, Quel’vela grimaced and tightened up her tusk thrusting ligaments.

Disgusting.

The shock of inspiration ran through her. An image morphed and rendered in her mind’s nose and eye. A woman who’d lost. Perhaps a husband, maybe a son. Regardless, a boy she’d sent to do what the human had been too lazy and gutless to bother with, become a warrior for her people. Then Liberation Day, coming along with its measured but necessary cost. This woman, used to having so many spare males in her life she could afford to be careless with them, got her nose buried under the stench of her selfishness. Quel’vela knew how she’d feel in such a circumstance: Shame. The unendurable odor of it a constant companion for the rest of existence. Many would break under this burden. Scratch that, any woman of vile enough character to be in this position in the first place was certain to crumble.

Once she did? The shame would turn outward, was required too for this creature to get up in the morning. How would this manifest? Rage. Rage pungent enough to make people solar systems away gag, anger which would overwhelm any other drive. Would this woman take up arms, fight in the open as befit a struggle between womankind? Ha, as if! A being so low wouldn’t consider the idea, much less have the fortitude to follow through on it. She’d turn to her old habits and seek out males to take all the risks.

Earlier, during Utri’s information gathering session, Quel’vela had doubts about the accuracy of Kaa’syi’s statements regarding the human male students. This part of her constellation, Goddess kiss and keep her soul, wasn’t the sort of girl who drew masculine interest like wortall to meat scraps. It wasn’t beyond belief for a youngster like Kaa’syi to dramatize and excuse her lack of success by insisting on its ubiquity. Indeed, thinking of all the ecstatic women who’d feasted on the local delicacies made Kaa’syi’s convictions feel more farfetched at the time.

But what if her words were congruent with what Quel’vela had sniffed and seen for herself? Adult males had started to have relations and give consent to be courted by a lucky cohort of Quel’vela’s braxon subjects, an unimpeachable truth. Those who had would experience what it was to be valued and cherished, not exploited by being forced into feminine roles they were unsuited for. Blossoming under proper care, the essential rightness of their newfound status would spread. It would reach the ears, eyes and nostrils of this hidden servant of the void, driving her to deeper madness. But could she retaliate directly, mash these males back into submission and resigned servitude? For whether or not she had such ignominious courage, these males were protected by woman who wouldn’t hesitate to fulfill their duties as future wives.

But children? Children were different. Vulnerable. Quel’vela would wager tooth and tusk the ease a clever and shameless woman could hold an entire student body under her sway. How many examples would be covertly made before the poor boys got the hint and stayed clear from the aliens this woman hated so? What would happen if one brave dissenter followed his heart anyway, daring all and sundry to say otherwise? Retribution, swift and vicious, lest others took courage from the nonconformist.

How did a friendly game of Arena Ball become a riot? The incitement hadn’t come from any of Quel’vela’s Braxon subjects, nothing was more certain. But was she to conclude a palmful of nubile athletes were to blame instead? Rinivella thought so. She’d placed responsibility on the shoulders of one, this David Koppel. Did he mastermind the reported tactics which gave the human team a temporary edge? Perhaps. But inspiring a gaggle of guys to violent, screaming, bloody defiance? That was a feminine touch.

Rinivella was a straightforward and simple woman, as befit her position. She sniffed at and observed the surface. Admirable quality for a scout. Yet it was a fool who took their observations as the final word. That’s what analysts and their Ladies were for. The former trainer of champions couldn’t sense the whole panorama. Whatever role Daivd Koppel played in this tragedy; it was as a patsy. The true criminal lay elsewhere.

As for said criminal, when she was uncovered…

Quel’vela felt her glands secrete, and as she was alone, she let them. The scent of her hostility oozed out. The sharp odor agreed with the woman under current circumstance, allowing her mind to fill with pleasant thoughts about spending five jots on a private, uninterrupted discussion with the person to blame for taking away what was most precious to her.

Bri’Akti. Oh, to extract penance for every ounce of her daughter’s body, to be allowed to indulge in the old ways and scourge her until not one trace of flesh was free from retribution. Then perhaps the gap in Quel’vela’s soul could be filled, the bit of void seared in the moment she was told her daughter was beyond the reach of all but the Goddess. It howled at her in quiet periods like these, screeching They took her from you! They must pay! Squeeze them all until they give up the sororicidal murderer they hide among them! Blood for blood!

But she knew better. Others of her peerage might indulge in satisfying every passing desire, shocked by the consequences each time. But Quel’vela was of a higher caliber, and her actions would always reflect this reality.

Wherever this bag of offal disguised as an ensouled being hid, legally speaking she was a subject of the Queen’s Dominion, and therefore allowed the privilege of civil procedure. A process proscribed and described by the written records of the blessed Monarch’s errorless will. It would be followed to the letter, every comma and clause accounted for. There would be a trial, witnesses, stockpiled evidence examined and judged. Quel’vela would preside. She would be the very model of unflinching fairness, duty demanding no less, and much more.

Then the sewage befouling the Goddess’s beautiful work would be locked away like the wild beast she was, forgotten. Left to decay till the end of her rotations, then exposed to the measuring of her soul by the first and last One who reigned supreme above the Queen. No torture a mortal like Quel’vela could devise hoped to match what was in store for her then.

She sighed. This time spend in isolation was a small indulgence of its own. Now she must move onto the never-ending work of being a ruler. Quel’vela would send back for Hantan, telling the Vicer of her conclusions. She’d leave it up to her to act on them, sending her to investigate the school until the sly thing was found. After that-

As though summoned by telepathic link, Hantan burst into the throne room, her eyes wide. Caught off guard by the unforeseen intrusion, Quel’vela’s said, “Hantan, why are-”

“Zervenqua has been arrested!”

“What!

[First] [Prev] [Patreon]

It was a calm day on Cloudhaven Station.

“Boss,” John shouted from the other side of the room, “can I redirect this to you? It sounds serious.”

It had been a calm day.

“Sure,” I said resignedly.

I answered the call with my headset and gave the usual introduction. “Hello, this is Chief Engineer Peter Johnson. How may I help you today?”

“My daughter and her bastard husband went missing! They don’t answer my calls, and they should’ve been back an hour ago!” The other side was practically screaming.

“Who am I talking to, ma’am?” I interrupted.

“My name is Mrs. Jackson,” she answered, slightly calmer. “And you need to rescue my daughter!”

I asked a few clarifying questions, and the story started sounding serious enough to investigate. Her daughter and son-in-law had rented a ship and left the station five hours ago. They hadn’t answered any calls for at least two hours.

“John!” I shouted. “Can you check radar and see where the airship Nautilus currently is?”

“Sure, boss,” came the immediate reply. He knew I hated it when he called me boss. That’s why he did it, I was sure.

While he tracked the ship down, I pulled up its datasheet: standard two-person airship, twenty-seven years old, last inspection two months ago with clean results. The atmosphere of Venus is harsh, but the ship looked flawless on paper. They had rented it yesterday but only started the trip today. Since they rented it for two more days, there was no reason to panic yet. Maybe it was nothing - just out of range, with an overprotective mother.

Suddenly, I realized John was standing right beside my desk.

“What?”

“Boss, they’re at the bottom,” he said in an ominous voice. “I think the ship is disabled, and now it’s floating at the ten-megapascal level.”

I quickly glanced back at my screen. Yes, the ship was designed to float at the 10 MPa level, and fortunately, it was built to withstand that pressure for an extended duration.

A rescue mission from the bottom. Brilliant. It had been a calm day. Until now.

“That explains why they aren’t answering calls: at that depth, signals can’t reach them,” I said to no one in particular. John obviously already knew that.

“Okay, we have two rescue ships,” I listed our immediate options, which weren't really options at all. “The Enterprise, but she can’t go that far down; and the Victoria, but she’s designed to rescue people, not haul ships.”

“Is there any other ship in the area that can go down to the bottom and lift a hundred and fifty tonnes?” John was following the exact same train of thought. We didn't have many options.

“Okay, I’ll call the Central Venusian Rescue Operator - maybe they have something,” I decided. “You call the military. I’m pretty sure they have heavy craft; the question is when they can get here.” I glanced at my screen again. “The ship only has enough air for three days, so we need something fast.”

“Sure, boss,” John answered, already turning back toward his desk.

My call to the Rescue Operator was fruitless; they didn’t have anything larger than our own inventory. I started calculating how to deploy the Victoria - rescue the crew first, worry about the ship later.

“I found a ship that can help,” John announced triumphantly. “A military vessel called the UVS Extractor. She’s designed for heavy-depth rescues and can be here by late tomorrow afternoon.”

“That might be too late, John,” I replied grimly. “They have three days of air, but at that level, the ambient temperature is four hundred degrees Celsius. Without power, the ship’s internal temperature will hit fifty degrees in just eight hours.”

I sat back in my chair, deflated.

“If they still have power, late tomorrow afternoon is fine. But if they had power, we wouldn’t be staring at a rescue scenario.” I looked at John, and he knew what I was calculating next. Our only choice was the Victoria. But spinning her up takes an hour, plus another hour to descend to that depth. It had already been six hours since they left. We had to launch now, or there wouldn't be anything left to save.

I picked up the comms and patched directly through to engineering.

“Jack,” I said the second he picked up. “We need the Victoria. Now. Start spinning her up and skip every non-critical protocol. This is an active rescue operation; we don't have time to waste.”

I turned back to John. “Head down to the Victoria. You’re leading the operation.”

I took a deep breath. “I’ll call the mother back and break the news.”

One painfully awkward phone call later, I was deep in buoyancy and vector calculations for the Victoria when my communicator pinged.

“Go ahead, John.”

“Peter, you won’t believe it. The Nautilus just docked.” His voice was an equal mix of relief and irritation.

“Did they blow their ballast tanks? Managed an emergency ascent?” I stood up immediately, grabbing my tablet. “Did the heat exchangers hold?”

“You should probably just come down here, boss.”

When the elevator doors opened at the docking bay, there was no medical team, no scorched hull venting emergency coolant, and no structural breach squad.

There was only a middle-aged man in a tropical shirt stepping off the airlock gangway, holding two iced mocktails in thermal pouches, followed by a woman stretching her arms as she’d just woken up from a glorious three-hour nap.

“Excuse me,” I called out, marching over with my heart still hammering from calculating thermal mortality rates. “Your mother reported a catastrophic system failure! You were hovering at ten megapascals!”

The husband took a slow sip of his drink and smiled peacefully.

“Ten megapascals is the only depth where comms, radar, and long-range emergency beacons are completely blocked by dense supercritical carbon dioxide,” he said mildly. He nudged his wife, who looked more relaxed than anyone I’d ever seen on this station. “Best four hours of quiet we’ve had in fifteen years.”

Wiki

Enjoyed the story? Help some real-world companions.

I write purely as a hobby and don't accept personal tips or Patreon subscriptions. However, my local rescue shelter (Tappancs Tanya ) is currently struggling to care for 160+ rescue dogs and cats.

If you enjoyed my writing and want to show appreciation, please consider throwing a few dollars their way. 100% of your support goes directly to the shelter - it completely bypasses me:

💙 Donate via PayPal

💳 Donate via Credit/Debit Card (Stripe)

🇪🇺 Direct Bank Transfer / IBAN (EUR): HU42 1091 8001 0000 0019 4860 0039 (SWIFT: BACXHUHB)

"OPEN FIRE!" The captain practically screamed within the bridge of the pirate ship Nico, followed swiftly by a tremble that resonated through-out the entire ship, its sturdy bulkhead vibrating furiously as six plasma cannons all fired simultaneously causing the vessel to drift and lean starboards as it travelled through the empty void of space.

"This is madness captain! They outclass us by seven thousand tons!" exclaimed the second in command, her eyes wide in panic and despair as she desperately held onto the control panel with both hands.

"I don't care, Althera! Its been six months, six fucking months on this god forsaken vessel!" Captain Bill shouted in response, eyes wide as well but not in panic but rather desperation and wrath! The rest of the crew didn't understand what had changed, what could possibly have changed to make their Captain so reckless. Althera recalled just minutes before that things had been going well, they had managed to hide their ship within the void without being seen by the competing pirate vessel. They had even managed to break into their coms network so that they could listen in on some of the communications within the vessel. Their Captain, a human had even managed to keep a cool, steady head even if he was constantly tapping his fingers against his large captains chair.

There was no reason to attack the vessel which outclassed them so much, then suddenly something seemed to have change in him. A strange stillness having come over him at something that had been said by the other vessel..

Their ship suddenly recoiled, a shudder and a groan from the bulkheads as the response of the other vessel arrived, less impactful than she had expected. "Status!" She shouted to the crew causing a chorus of responses from the rest on the bridge. "We've lost power to engi-.. "Cannon two to four are reporting dama-.." "Critical hit to their power supply! They're drifting!" That last part was important she felt but before she could ask for clarification she heard a new order from the captain. "Good, prepare boarding torpedoes!" She paused, mouth agape and glaring at their captain, seemingly gone mad.

"You can't be serious captain! There's more people on that ship now than have ever even served on our ship!" She waved her arms around madly as she watched their Captain step down from the chair and set into a sprint down towards the torpedo bay, faster than she has seen him move in ages. He turned to look towards Althera as he sprinted down the corridor without stopping. "Good point! I better pack enough ammo."

"That's not the fucking point you oaf!" He slowed, if only briefly giving Althera time to catch up a little to the man. "You're right.. I'll bring the sword!" She glared at the back of his hairless skull as he doubled his pace towards the armoury. "NO! FUCK'S SAKE CAPTAIN WHAT THE KRELL HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?!"

"You wouldn't understand!" He ducked into the armoury and by the time she finally caught up to he was already strapped to the teeth with two assault rifles, eighteen magazines all of which had enough energy in them to fire a hundred rounds, six grenades, two plasma charges for breaching bulkhead a landmine and a plasma machete. He pushed past the woman with his broad build, quite easily and ran off to the torpedo bay.

"I'm pretty sure no one could 'get it', could you just slow down and explain already?!" The ship once again shook which reminded her that she'd never given the order to cease fire in her rush to try to stop the captain from doing something fantastically reckless and.. She hated to use the term but could think of nothing that fitted better, Human.

"No time! There's no time!" There was desperation in his voice but also hope, joy the likes of which she hadn't heard from the captain for six entire months. She wondered what could possible get their captain out of his irate mood. Then she remembered what that word had been they'd used seconds before he'd told the entire ship to get into combat ships. "IS THIS ABOUT THAT FUCKING TOBACCO YOU KEPT BURNING?!"

The captain practically dove into the torpedo tube and gave a quick thumbs up out of the top before closing the hatch. The last thing she heard before he activated the automatic loading and firing sequence was. "DADDY 'S COMMING BACK, HE'S JUST GOING OUT TO GET SOME CIGS!"

Althera stood there in the loading bay for several seconds, glaring at the now empty tube fury that made her dark violet knuckles turn white. Crushed within her fist was a small green pack which she now regretted very much taking away. She honestly hoped that the enemy ship took them out, anything would be preferably over that awful smoke again.

FIRST

-- --

Blurb/Synopsis

Captain Henry Donnager expected a quiet career babysitting a dusty relic in Area 51. But when a test unlocks a portal to a world of knights and magic, he's thrust into command of Alpha Team, an elite unit tasked with exploring this new realm.

They join the local Adventurers Guild, seeking to unravel the secrets of this fantastical realm and the ancient gateway's creators. As their quests reveal the potent forces of magic, they inadvertently entangle in the volatile politics between local rivalling factions.

With American technology and ancient secrets in the balance, Henry's team navigates alliances and hostilities, enlisting local legends and air support in their quest. In a land where dragons loom, they discover that modern warfare's might—Hellfire missiles included—holds its own brand of magic.

-- --

Chapter 101: Serious Firepower

-- --

The thing about downtime was that Henry had never figured out how to spend it. Of course, some scenarios were easier than others; sometimes there wouldn’t be enough time to do anything but play on his phone, so he’d have an easy answer. Sometimes he’d have homework or reports to work on. And sometimes he’d have enough time to binge a show. This current bout fell into none of those categories.

Well, technically it did fall under the last one, but how the hell was he supposed to binge a show without internet? The last time he’d resupplied his laptop was weeks ago, and he’d already burned through everything he’d saved.

So he’d gone looking for something to do, and it turned out there really was something.

With their campaign assignment on hold until Sinclair and the Guild got everything sorted out, the only thing left on his plate was figuring out what to get Sera for their one-month anniversary. It wasn’t due for another couple weeks, but Henry didn’t much like kicking the can down the road, so he’d decided to scope the market early – get a feel for his options, come back with a plan, and spare himself the indignity of scrambling for something last minute.

As luck would have it, the search had gone sideways almost the second he started. The enchanted gear that would’ve actually upgraded her kit was somewhere in the millions of lumens. Everything under that he’d either failed to understand or couldn’t picture her wanting.

After scoping out several equipment shops, he’d ended up trying his luck at a jewelry store. Nothing came to him at the time. He’d stood at the case for minutes – long enough that the shopkeep came over to figure out whether Henry meant to rob the place or just have a stroke in front of it. It was neither, of course. Henry had explained it was a gift for a girl, and that he didn’t have the first clue what she’d like.

The man, to his credit, hadn’t tried to move the priciest thing in the case. He’d just asked why Henry didn’t bring her something from his own homeland instead. It was admittedly a bit embarrassing that he hadn’t thought of something so obvious, but it was true: there was nothing here she hadn’t seen a thousand times over, but everything back home she’d never laid eyes on. Anything he wanted was just a requisition form or an Amazon order away.

So he’d resolved to do just that, thanking the man before heading back to the inn to make a list of all the stuff Sera might find interesting.

The others found their own ways to fill the days. Hayes spent his becoming a local legend, which had been inevitable from the moment the first dwarf in Kharvûk recognized him as the Kraggen Slayer – the man who’d bested Var at his own drink back in Krevath. Word like that got around, and now every dwarf in town with something to prove wanted his shot at the title. Hayes turned every challenge down, partly because a hungover operator made for a bad look, and partly because Hayes knew to quit while he was ahead.

Sera and Doc had spent most of the three days with Sinclair. Sera knew the political landscape from the inside – the standing tensions between the powers, the alliances that held and the ones that only looked like they did, the history that explained why the Nobians being here meant what it meant. Doc, meanwhile, made sense of it all, drawing on past conflicts for the parallels that fit and handing them to Sinclair to run down. Between them, they’d helped shape the Korth Varren mess into something Command could take to a war council.

And then there was Ron, who’d somehow talked Isaac Yen into leaving the wire for something other than work. Henry would’ve bet against that one at long odds and lost, which was more or less the mood at breakfast when Ron tried to explain how it had happened. Or rather, what happened during their outing, because apparently that was a lot more important.

“– and this dude ain’t do shit!” Ron put his fork down to free up both hands. “She talkin’ for an hour, half an hour, whatever. And guess how many words Yen says during that whole time? Three.” He sighed. “It’s bullshit, cuh.”

Yen continued working through his plate, like none of it concerned him.

Henry shrugged, landing on his usual response for the big guy. “Gotta lock in, bro.”

“Yeah, lock in what? How? Fuck am I supposed to do? Mew?” Ron lifted his tongue and closed his mouth, mugging across the table.

Henry lifted a palm toward him. “There you go.”

“Whatever, man.” Ron picked the fork back up. “Y’all don’t get it. One day I’ma figure out his secret and then it’s over for everybody.”

“Well, you’ve got time.” Henry went back to his own plate. “Even once Kel gets here, it’ll be a week plus before we deal with that dragon. Plenty of runway to crack the code.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ron’s voice flattened into mock enthusiasm. “Lemme just go compete against the high-ranking adventurers with their magic and their fancy mithril gear. Real even playing field.”

“It worked for me,” Yen said.

Ron shot him a look.

Yen shrugged, unbothered. “Just saying.”

“He’s got a point.” Henry tipped his fork toward Yen. “Just lean into the novelty. Think about how many times the locals have geeked out over us – our gear, where we’re from, all of it. The folks back in Eldralore. Livia. Half the dwarves in this town.”

“Oh, speaking of – we ran into Livia’s crew at the tavern. Whole party of ’em rolled in yesterday.” Ron pointed the fork like Henry might’ve missed it. “Wild, right? Out of everybody. Sera’s gonna be in for a surprise when she gets back.”

Henry hadn’t known that. “Huh. They in for the campaign?”

“Yup. They came straight from Enstadt, too. Apparently the dwarves are prepping for–”

Henry’s radio crackled before Ron could finish.

“Alpha, Durin Actual. We’re on final approach to your position, two mikes out. Kelmithus is with us, along with your fires element. Over.”

He keyed back. “Copy, Durin. We’ll come out and meet you. Alpha out.” He pushed up from the table. “Alright. That’s us. Let’s go say hello.”

They stepped outside. The convoy came up the lane a minute later – two MRAPs sandwiched between two UGVs. The lead vehicle pulled up short of the inn, doors already opening before it stopped.

A pale blond guy Henry didn’t recognize swung down from the lead MRAP and made his way over, tablet in hand. The unloading had already started behind him, the convoy’s personnel dragging out the first crates of goodies.

“Captain Donnager? McMillan, sir.” He held out the tablet. “Got your requisition here. Everything's accounted for. Figured you’d want eyes on it before we started unloading.”

Henry took it and scrolled. The list ran longer than he remembered putting in, though most of that was the ammunition padding it out. He thumbed through the line items, found nothing missing, and handed it back.

“Looks good. Appreciate the haul.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll get it staged and out of your way.” The sergeant tucked the tablet under his arm and turned back toward the vehicles, leaving Henry to the two passengers stepping down from the cab.

First came Kel – the mad genius himself, probably already itching to nerd out about something. After the chaos of the last few weeks, seeing him was a damn comforting sight.

“Kel.” He went to meet him. “Good to see you. How’s it been?”

“Busy, Captain. Gloriously so.” The weariness lost out to the enthusiasm without much of a fight. “I have at last met your forgemaster. Ah, Captain, what a fellow! Balnar and I have scarce quitted the workshop since. We sit down to discuss one matter and find ourselves embroiled in six ere the first has settled.

“Indeed, three days ago we laid a binding upon one of your metal plates, merely to discover whether it would take the charge. Well, it did, and with such success that neither Balnar nor I would credit it at first. We ran the trial again, and then once more for good measure, yet still arrived at the selfsame conclusion.”

He caught the thread running off without him and reeled it in. “Ah, but this is intolerably rude of me. How goes the campaign? You fare better than I feared, and I’m glad of it.”

“Shit, it’s going well – real well, all things considered. Long story, though. I’ll tell you over dinner.”

“Very well,” Kelmithus said. He glanced toward the inn. “Though I ought to find Sinclair first.”

“I’ll take you,” Yen offered. “She’s at the Guild.”

Kelmithus nodded and set off after him.

Henry waved them off. “Oh, and Yen – tell Sera about Livia.”

The other passenger had hung back through all that, waiting his turn. The chunky field radio he set down marked him for the JTAC, plain as anything. Years of humping that thing through sun and hard country had worn him lean and dark.

The guy waved as he came over, going for a poker face but not quite getting there, clearly too starstruck to pull it off.

Henry nodded him toward the door. “Come on, let’s head inside.”

They filed in out of the cold. Once they’d taken a table, the man set his pack down and put a hand out.

“Captain.” He took Henry’s hand with both a grip and a grin he couldn’t fully tamp down. “Staff Sergeant Delgado – but you can call me Tripp. I’m your JTAC for this one. Shouldn’t be in your hair long – half the job’s just pointing a laser, anyway.” He cleared his throat. “Real glad to be here, though, sir. Been hearing about Alpha for weeks now. Kind of a big deal, getting put on you.”

Henry shook his hand and waved him into a chair. “Likewise. Glad to have you.” He sat back down across from him. “But what do you mean, just pointing a laser?”

“Exactly that, sir.” Delgado sat. “This isn’t a normal CAS run. No talk-on, no nine-line, nothing you really need me for. The General’s using Tomahawks for this one. We’ll launch a timed strike toward the AO, then use a laser to paint the target for terminal guidance. Could be me, could be a drone, could be you if you want hands on it.”

“That simple?” Ron asked.

“As far as you guys are concerned, yeah.” Delgado tipped a hand side to side. “How hard it is to mod the missiles, I can’t say. There’s a whole setup behind it, too – relays strung up the corridor, the bird flying itself on internal nav the whole way, all that. The way I heard it, it’s a lot of moving parts. But none of those parts are yours. What matters is they get the missiles to the target area, and the laser does the rest.”

He pulled a map from his cargo pocket and spread it on the table.

“Right now they’re still finding it. There’s an RQ-180 up, running the search. Once it pins the target down, it hands routine tracking off to a Reaper to keep watch until you’re ready to move out.”

“How many Tomahawks we got?” Henry asked.

“Twelve. Three Typhon systems, four missiles each.” Delgado ticked them off. “One system’s running conventional, one’s thermobaric, and the last one’s the experimental stuff. Word is the eggheads cracked the chemistry once they got the new powder figured out. I don’t know how hard it is to go from deflagration to an explosive payload, but they did it. So after some quick testing, the first thing they did was load up four and send ’em along to see what they do.”

Ron whistled. “That’s some serious firepower.”

“That’s the idea. You’re going up against a Tier Ten.” Delgado said it plainly, the way a man states a fact he’s made his peace with. “Which is why they’re not picking and choosing. They’re putting all twelve on it at once. One salvo, all in.”

He let that sit for a moment.

“Which means you do not want to be anywhere near it when they land. Klick and a half off, minimum – and I’d push it further if the ground gives you the option.”

“Contingency if it survives?” Henry asked.

“Then you get into the Gatebuilder site and you hunker down.” Delgado shrugged. “Nobody told me why, specifically. But I guess at this point it’s kinda obvious we might go nuclear.”

Henry glanced at Ron, then back at Delgado. “Shit, dude.”

Delgado folded the map back up. “Yeah, I know, right? But nukes should be able to handle any Tier Ten, or at least hurt ‘em bad enough to deter them, I think. Dr. Perdue said as much.”

The guy’s tone wasn’t as reassuring as Henry might’ve preferred, but the logic underneath was sound enough. If Dr. Perdue said so, then there probably shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Delgado looked back up after stowing his map. “Oh, right. Forgot to mention this. As far as the brass is concerned, I’m a formality – somebody’s gotta sign off that you had fires support attached, and that’s me. I don’t need to be out there with you. The Reaper can hold the laser fine on its own, or one of you can do it. It’s just holding a designator on the target.” He shrugged. “But if you’d rather have a dedicated guy running it, I’ll come. Up to you. Just let me know before the op.”

“We’ll sort it out,” Henry said. “Appreciate the rundown.”

Delgado nodded. “Just the messenger, sir.”

Henry checked the time. With nothing pressing on his schedule, the rest of the day was wide open. “You wanna tour around town?”

Delgado’s face faltered again, the poker face slipping. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m down for that.”

-- --

Next

If you're craving more chapters, check out my Patreon! I offer up to 20 (total) chapters for $20!

Tier 4 Patrons can now read 10 weeks ahead for BOTH Arcane Exfil and Manifest Fantasy (+20 chapters in total), as well as gain exclusive early access to Summoning America chapters!

Want more content? Get the wholly revamped Manifest Fantasy Book One on Amazon/Audible, or check out my other book, Arcane Exfil.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/drdoritosmd

Discord: https://discord.gg/wr2xexGJaD

The fence was all that they remembered from the time before. That and the infernal, menacing mist that always blocked the light from the sun, no matter what the season was. It was the morning, but who would really know for sure?  Then again, nobody really had a reason to care anyway.  Morning, evening, it was all the same.

Jon stopped tending the grass long enough to put his digger down to wipe the sweat from his forehead.  The sun was always seen through a haze of dust or smoke or something that was in the atmosphere.  It might keep the light levels down, but it didn’t do anything to slow down the heat any.  If anything, it held the heat in.

He looked around and just breathed for a moment.  Jon liked to spend his extra time out here where nobody else was.  Even if it wasn’t his assigned task, he would probably be out here anyway.  It was a place to go.  Here in the plot, there just weren’t that many places where you could get away by yourself, even for a little bit.  It was peaceful here … serene almost.

The fence in the distance seemed to shimmer and undulate in the heat and haze as if it was a long, segmented worm, carried along by the whispery thin legs of the posts that supported it.  The swaying weeds and wild grasses at the edge of their plot brought the vision to life even more as he watched.

It was like a living thing that wrapped around their plot and kept them on one side while the roving towers of metal rumbled in the distance.  Or did it protect them from the giant leviathans of metal that lumbered across the terrain as they followed the directions of their alien gods?  They had discussed what it was all about many times in the clan huddles of the conclave over the generations that they’d been here.

There were stories of the multitudes of people that covered the planet in the old times … back before “they” came.  Humans were supposed to have been at their peak of evolutionary advancement.  The elders used to tell all the old tales of ships that could fly, and others that could float across giant oceans of salty water where other people of different skin colors and body structures would meet them.  It all sounded like made-up shite now.

The elders were long gone now anyway, and the stories probably got embellished a little bit with each retelling.  Nobody believed them anymore.

In the distance, toward the conclave, he could see someone coming toward him pulling a cart.  He sure hoped it would be Cheris.  Really, he already knew it would be her.  If it was, that meant that there would be some mostly fresh water to drink, and there would be some gruel to put something in his belly.

The thought of his stomach made the insistent feelings of hunger and emptiness more pronounced.  That was nothing new, though.  It was a constant nagging feeling, but they all learned a long time ago that there wasn’t going to be anything to help out in that department, so they shrugged it off.

A movement on the other side of the fence drew his attention away from the person with the cart.  It was a small creature with long ears, nibbling on the grasses close to the fence.  He already knew what it was.  It was something called a rabbit.  It was one of the many different creatures that lived outside the plot.

His immediate thought was of alarm for the rabbit, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do.  Everybody knew that the fence was death.  It was like the sky when it began to rumble and light up with those streaks of crackling lightning.  Touch any part of it, and there would be nothing left but a smoking husk of your former self.

It was still going to be several minutes before Cheris could get there, so he watched the rabbit.  It was such a beautiful creature.  It was gray and brown so that if it wasn’t moving, it almost looked like a stone from his vantage point out in the grass.

The little rabbit went out of sight for a moment in the tall weeds on the other side of the fence, and then back in his field of view a little farther down from where it was before.  It was curious and inquisitive, just nonchalantly checking out this, and then that.

While he watched, there was another movement that caught his eye.  Another rabbit joined with the first and they met and sniffed each other up before going their own way again.  That was so cool.  It was like two strangers meeting and talking for just a second before saying, “Okay … see ya.  Have a good day.”

He looked back, and Cheris was much closer now.  She was such a gentle girl.  They had been friends most of their lives.  She wasn’t born here like he was, but was dropped with another group of people years ago.  Actually, it was the last time that there were any new people dropped here in this plot.

They didn’t have much of a story to tell … just another plot like this one, only there was an earth-shake, and part of their fence tore apart.  As soon as it did, the metal towers outside their fence rolled up and began to suck everybody up with wind or something.  They were brought here … and that was that.

She was almost there now, and he looked back for another look at the rabbit.  It was gone by this time, and the fence and the waving grass were all there was.  Jon sighed and put it out of his mind.  Rabbits, and dogs, and deer … they were all creatures that you could see every now and then, but it wasn’t like they could actually touch them or anything … not with that fence there.  It was an inescapable and deadly prison.

Cheris was always a welcome sight for Jon.  She was one of the only people in the whole plot that understood where he was coming from.  It wasn’t just one-sided either.  They both understood each other.  Well, he got along with her better than anybody else anyway.  He’d probably never truly understand her.  She wasn’t like the other girls here … or guys either, for that matter.

That was probably the thing that he liked most about her … the way she was different.  You know, if every part of your day is pretty much the same … every single day … something that stands out is a welcome change.

She had this way about her that made him think of things that nobody even discussed at all.  It probably wasn’t her fault, but she had these dreams that kept occurring, again and again.  In the dream, they were in a big plot that didn’t have any fence.  The animals could come right up to them, and they could walk as far as they wanted and never have to turn back.  They could go all the way to the ocean if they wanted.  Crazy, right?

  It sounded pretty crazy.  Nobody talked like that since the elders were around.  Sure, there were elders still in the conclave, but they weren’t the elders that really knew the old stories.  These people just heard it from those that came before, not like they actually saw those things they talked about.

Cheris waved when she knew he was looking again.  Jon waved back and waited for her to get there.  He could have met her and not let her pull the cart all the way over, but it didn’t even occur to him.  His job was tending to the grass, and hers was bringing the gruel, which, of course, was made from the stalks and grain from the grass.

If he met her halfway, then he would be partially doing her job, and then he’d still have to do his.  Everybody had to do their own job, or how the hell was the plot supposed to survive?  You gotta have grass to get the seeds and stalks to make gruel, and gruel was the key to survival, wasn’t it?  What else is everybody supposed to eat?

When she got to where he waited, Cheris was about to say something to him, but then she looked past him to the fence.  She had a look on her face that was like horror and surprise and shock all at the same time.  It was enough to make Jon turn around again.

The rabbit was back, or at least a rabbit was back, and it was being pursued by a dog of some kind.  No, not a dog.  This was smaller, with a bigger head … it was a coyote.  It had been years since he saw one of those.  The dog packs had run off all the coyotes years ago.

They were both frozen in place watching this scene of life and death play out on the other side of the fence.  There was nothing they could do.

Cheris’s hand reached out to hold on to his arm.  He wasn’t sure if it was for her own stability, or to reassure him.  It felt nice all the same.

The coyote was close … the rabbit was weaving back and forth as they neared the fence.  Closer … and closer.  It was almost to the fence, and Jon felt himself holding his breath … just knowing that the end was right there.  He even squinched up his face in anticipation of the contact with the fence.

They both knew what would happen as soon as that poor rabbit made even the slightest brush against that thing.  There would be a loud cracking sound and a bright flash of light, and then the smoke would rise up with the terrible stench of burning flesh and hair.  They’d seen it before.

Cheris’s hand clenched down harder on Jon’s arm and then … at the last second … the rabbit vanished from sight, and the coyote veered off at the last moment too, just before running into the fence himself.

Jon and Cheris both just stood there for a moment, not knowing what happened.  The rabbit was there one second, and then it was gone.

“What …?” Cheris asked, to nobody in particular.

“Uumm …” was all Jon had to say too.

Then, on their side of the fence … not the other side where the drama had just played out, but on their side … a little nose from a rabbit popped up out of a hole in the ground, right at the edge of the grass that Jon was plugging.  It was close to the fence, so nobody ever went over there, that far.  Nobody ever went anywhere close to that thing.  To go over there was suicide.

The rabbit followed its nose and came out into the grass of the plot as if it didn’t have a care in the world.

“How did it …?” Jon said.

Cheris pulled her hand back and slowly said, “Jon … it went under the fence.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said.  Understanding that the rabbit did indeed go under the fence, but not quite understanding what she was getting at.

“No Jon … It went under the fence,” she said, looking meaningfully at his digger.  “If it did … then we can too.”

Jon raised his digger up and looked at it as the realization of what she meant opened in his brain.  “The dreams …” he said, looking over at Cheris.

The Interspecies Sciences Facility on Kethra 7 was the largest in the galaxy. It included scientists from every known species, studying every scientific field anyone could think up. Cooperative research had advanced knowledge beyond anything any species could have done by themselves, and everyone benefited from the cooperation.

Unfortunately, having so many scientists in one place, had consequences no one outside of the facility had thought of before it was too late. The problem? The geek wars. No one could have stopped the geeks in the first place without using their own geeks. When they had first tried to restrain the scientists with their own people, their geeks invariably joined in, and the pranks would then be aimed at them.

The humans started it, of course. Apparently it was a tradition among them, dating back to before the humans even had reached space. Anyone not actually involved in that specific conflict was supposed to be safe from the pranks. In reality, everyone was in danger of getting caught in the crossfire. This lead to the entire population of the facility being at war with everyone else more than once. (Excluding the senior staff, at first.)

Most beings grouped together, and acted as a group. This was vaguely tolerable for the senior staff, if not the preferred method of releasing stress. Then, individual humans started changing sides, suddenly pranking their own team. But they didn’t stay with the group they were helping. Individuals were helping research tactics, and when everything was done, the human would suddenly start working with a different group that was fighting against them. They were moving among the groups spreading misinformation and chaos, along with tiny bits of real information.

It was the humans that started pranking the senior officials. It became a test of science and courage to play the highest officials without getting caught, resulting in new and better traps every time. Some of the officials tried to prank them in return, but they were fighting against the best and brightest geeks the universe had produced. They were hopelessly outsmarted, and retaliation, in any way, was sure to leave their offices unusable until it had been searched by whoever was willing to help them. Unfortunately, this often resulted in new pranks being installed as the old traps were removed.

It began 8 months after the first pranks. Someone pranked a friend on a visiting ship. They fought back, of course, and the war went on for the entire time the ship was in orbit. The same thing happened with the next ship. Somebody knew somebody on the current ship in orbit for resupply and data transfer, and then the pranks would start. Then those ships started pranking the next ship with humans on it, and it spread through the galaxy as the humans taught their nonhuman shipmates.

Every being in the galaxy learned eventually:

Beware the Geeks!

What follows is a transcript of the interrogation of Legate Gnav Urgela, former Commanding Officer of the Lidis Imperium P.O.W. camp in the northern hemisphere of Tykelion in the system of the same name. The camp mainly housed prisoners from the Federation of Sol and was designated “Camp Tiberius” by Federation Intelligence.

The recording was found by Union Congressional Intelligencers after the liberation of Melva-3. The name of the interrogator has been redacted, only their rank remains.  Translation, transcription, and localization courtesy of Col. Efe Ibeh, Federation Council of Intelligence. 

Provost: You oversaw the camp for how many cycles, Legate?

Legate: I was there since it was constructed.

Provost: How many prisoners were under your watch?

Legate: Roughly twelve thousand when the camp was full.

Provost: But it is no longer full, is it, Legate? How many escaped?

Legate: …My officers tell me the count is close to two hundred and fifty.

Provost: Two…hundred…and…fifty. In one night!

Legate: No, not one night, they had been working away at their plan for many cycles.

Provost: And you were none the wiser, Legate! This happened on your watch, and you did not see, you did not know! It makes one wonder if you have abandoned your oath to The Emperor and allowed it to happen. [Slams on the desk]

Legate: How dare you!? I am a Legate in his Imperial Majesty’s army, and I will not allow such a baseless insult to pass by so unanswered!

Provost: You mean you were a Legate in his Majesty’s Imperial army. You will certainly be losing your command and your rank after this, whether or not you lose your life is up to the throne.

Legate: …What? Without trial? I demand a court martial.

Provost: You are in no place to demand anything, Mister Urgela.

Legate: This is a masquerade of justice.

Provost: Tell us the truth and perhaps his Imperial Majesty will find it in his infinite character to dole out mercy for such a disgrace of an officer.

Legate: [Uninterrupted string of untranslatable curses]

Provost: Speak. What happened?

Legate: [Chair shifts against the floor, sounds of pacing] They tunneled out.

Provost: That is not possible. They had no access to tools for such an endeavour.

Legate: [Remains silent]

Provost: They would have needed tools to dig through the clay and stone, pumps for air as Terrans are so susceptible to poisonous air, and that is not to mention the survey equipment and computers needed to keep a tunnel straight and on target. Are you telling me you provided them with such things? That you were complicit?

Legate: NO!

Provost: Then explain! Did they burrow and dig as though they were giant talpa?!

Legate: I did not provide them with the tools nor the materials, but they made do without.

Provost: “They made do”? That is your explanation. That is your best lie? I thought you smarter than that, Mister Urgela.

Legate: They made the tools themselves.

Provost: How in the minds of the gods did they accomplish that? Did they have a workshop? They had to have had help.

Legate: Not one of my men helped them. You will not drag them into this shameful discourse; you are after me and me alone. Understand!?

Provost: Sit down, or I will be forced to call the guards in.

Legate: [The pacing stops and the chair slides] The Terrans are an industrious bunch. They scavenged metal and other materials from the buildings throughout the camp and manufactured their own tools.

Provost: Surely such a civilization as young as theirs lacks such capabilities and understandings.

Legate: Were my life not on the line I would say that the Terrans may well be the finest tool makers outside of our glorious Imperium.

Provost: But it is, and you are not. [Snaps fingers]

It appears that the exchange preceding the snap was meant to be edited out but it had been reconstructed by some unknown party.

Provost: Even if I did believe that they made the tools themselves and not one guard in the camp noticed, that still leaves the engineering of the tunnel itself. Without navigational data and surveys there is no way they could have managed to dig the tunnel straight and long enough to make the tree line as they did. They had access to such data, and someone in your command gave it to them.

Legate: No, they made do without.

Provost: [dismissive mouth noise]

Legate: I do not know how else to explain it, Provost REDACTED. They did the math the hard way.

Provost: Those prisoners were mere soldiers; they are not educated in such matters. That still does not account for how they made measurements or gathered data.

Legate: They made a measurement device out of homespun rope with pieces of colored cloth tied off at curious intervals. As for the rest, it may have just been educated estimates.

Provost: You mean that a secure prison camp on Imperial land, headed by an Imperial officer was outplayed by simple guesswork!?

Legate: You may not have spent as much time among Terrans as I have, Provost. But they are always looking, always seeing and hearing. I thought it was a quirk of their uncivilized nature but now I see that it is innate to their kind. They observe, they collect, they process, and they plan. Your outrage comes from a place I once stood. I too underestimated them once. Now it seems I shall pay the price for it. I have spoken nothing but the truth, send your men to the camp and see for yourself.

Provost: I am waiting for their report now.

Legate: Then, if you do not mind, I would rather sit in silence with my wounded pride while it is the only part of me that is wounded.

There is some time of silence before the Provost returns.

Provost: I have received the report of my men that were dispatched to your camp. It appears to corroborate everything you have said.

Legate: Just as I knew it would.

Provost: However, it is the official position of his Imperial Majesty that the Federation of Sol are uncivilized barbarian interlopers, and it cannot be known they outplayed the imperium so handily and so simply.

Legate: No…

Provost: [Snaps fingers]

That exchange shows signs of being another restored edit.

Provost: Mister Urgela, you are hereby stripped of your command, your rank, and sentenced to death by firing squad. You will be labeled a traitor, and your family name will carry that shame as long as your line lasts.

Legate: My men, my family, they will not be satisfied with your fabrication, they will want answers, they will want the truth.

Provost: They will make do without.

[The Legate shouts unintelligibly as he is dragged from the room]

END TRANSCRIPTION

Of the 250 Federation escapees from Camp Tiberius, only 4 are accounted for and known to be alive. This transcript was turned over to the Federation Council of Intelligence after Union Congressional authentication and in honor of the Nifflon V Agreement.

Royal Road | Book Cover | First | Previous | Next 

Chapter 33: PSDM

"CP 1765, September 18. 67 days have passed since landing. Local time: AD 2016, October 23."

"If you ask me whether I support Min attending the private science discussion meeting? Of course I do."

"Though I've attended many academic conferences before, this is my first on an alien planet. Unfortunately, I can only imagine what the actual scene will be like. After all, I can't participate. In this regard, it's practically racial discrimination. Or to be more precise, species discrimination?"

"..."

"Politics, terrifying politics. The protector of rights, yet also the freedom-crushing machine. Ample evidence proves that wherever complex, class-based life forms exist, 'politics' inevitably emerges to some degree. Along with it come derivative phenomena: political regimes, power struggles, governmental systems... and ideologies."

"I'm no expert on the subject, but anyone without intellectual disabilities can see the ideological conflicts here are particularly severe. Perhaps what I described in the previous diaries seems exaggerated, but this is in fact an ameliorated outcome. If my understanding is correct, their situation fifty to seventy years ago was countless times more intense than it is today."

"I have no authority to judge political matters, including those here — that's for the people who study statecraft. But as an observer, one can't deny that some political artefacts are quite fascinating. Especially certain propaganda pieces..."

"What kind of ideology makes them believe they can grow a creature weighing a dozen kilograms into one weighing several tons without genetic engineering? Even with genetic engineering, it would be laughably impossible. Even if it did reach several tons, basic mathematics shows that it could not possibly feed dozens of people for over 100 days. Best not to elaborate further."

"Still, based on my expertise, I can somewhat understand their divisions. The ocean is a natural barrier between land-dwelling species and the ultimate tool for severing national borders. Unlike us, they scattered and settled across every continent of this planet back in the ancient time when they were still smashing animal skulls with rocks. In that sense, they possess a peculiar passion for migrating to new places. Judging by the time and scale of this behaviour, it doesn't seem to be rooted in culture or custom — more like an instinct deeply embedded in their genes. Perhaps this is another difference between us and them, though a more subtle one..."

"..."

After typing the final words, Xi P leaps from his chair and yawns deeply. Today is the day when Min goes to the PSDM. If he were not genuinely unable to attend, he would have attended too. Now, the only thing left to look forward to is the video recording. From Xi P's experience, secretly filming such a semi-formal gathering is not a big deal even when the host disapproves. The method is simple: just place a recording device, like a phone, in a corner of the room upon entering. Not even needing to hide it deliberately.

If the phone has a covert recording mode, that would be even better, making detection nearly impossible. Yes, Xi P has done this many times before, just for personal recollection or as a memo. This time, although it is not his own experience, it would still make for a decent keepsake.

He even lent Min his phone for this recording and showed him how to use it. This device incorporates decades of advanced imaging technology and far surpasses any competitor made on Earth in terms of performance. It excels at reducing ambient noise during recording and boasts imaging capabilities with a 170-degree ultra-wide-angle lens, as well as supporting holographic photography. In reality, however, the lens is so small that the holographic effect is practically negligible. Not to mention a whole host of other cutting-edge technologies whose names he couldn't even begin to recall.

He does recall the interesting finding that took place when he lent out his phone, though:

"Is it just me, or is the colour really feels off?" Min rubs his eyes.

"Probably. It is not made for human eyes."

It appears that even though the visible spectrum ranges roughly match, their equipment is not particularly compatible with each other's.

***

After nearly an hour of anxious waiting, Min finally returns from the PSDM.

He casually hands the phone back to Xi P, but doesn't speak to him right away. Instead, he walks into the kitchen and blends a glass of juice — all that talking has left him thirsty. Then, strolling back leisurely to the living room, he asks Xi P: "So?"

Xi P has drawn all the curtains and turned off the lights, making the room much darker. He is projecting images onto the wall using his phone's front-facing display, giving the room a slightly sci-fi vibe. Spotting Min return, he waves dismissively before refocusing on the wall.

They sit down together. Min has no interest in watching the footage — he experienced it firsthand. He cannot quite fathom why Xi P is so fascinated by it; after all, it's just an informal gathering of scientific enthusiasts. Hmm... Huh?

Suddenly, he turns to stare at Xi P, startling him so much that his neck recoils in a manner impossible for humans.

"Did you use the kitchen juicer to blend meat?"

Xi P nods and mumbles in confusion: "Tastes bad?"

"Worse than bad — utterly disgusting!" Min walks back to the kitchen and pours out the juice, looking revulsed, "Remember to clean the machine next time!"

Xi P nods in agreement, but another question arises: Don't they always eat vegetarian and meat dishes together? Why does this one make him feel nauseous? Isn't this also a combination of the two?

Shaking his head, he decides not to dwell on it. In this regard, at least, the two species are completely incompatible, unable to communicate or understand each other. For now, he should focus on the scientific discussion meeting.

This video does hold some commemorative value. Just imagine: "Live footage of the first close encounter with alien scientific symposiums after arriving on another planet." It sounds incredibly high-stakes. He is genuinely curious about the academic world here — even the article he has been preparing is intended to familiarise him with how things operate locally. If only he could attend the symposium himself...

He restarts the video. The image flickers and shakes before settling into a steady perspective. As Xi P instructed, the camera is placed on a chair in the corner, offering a full view of the entire room and even the walls on both sides. However, the autofocus hasn't been calibrated properly, and the lens isn't wide enough to achieve a full focal range, making the entire image appear slightly blurry.

Despite the blur, Xi P can make out the layout of the room. It looks... far worse than he had imagined.

A scientific discussion meeting — while rarely featuring experimental equipment for on-the-spot research — should at least maintain a semblance of formality. Even a multidisciplinary one ought to project some professionalism. Yet this space resembles nothing more than an oversized living room, sparsely furnished with drinks and snacks. Had Min called it a party, Xi P might have believed him.

At the very least, they should have prepared projectors and tools for sketching diagrams. Even a stack of paper in the corner would have been better than nothing. But now?

However, Xi P soon realises he is overthinking it. Moments later, a figure appears at the edge of the video, carrying a large whiteboard into the room. Others have pulled down a projection screen and are adjusting the projector. Instantly, the living room takes on a more serious air. Honestly, this scene feels strangely familiar to Xi P; decades ago, many academic lectures in Lierus unfolded in much the same way. Even today, it's still similar except that the whiteboard and projector have merged into one and multiple projectors are used for 3D projection.

Nevertheless, when the supposed host starts speaking, Xi P feels as though he has been transported back half a century, even though he wasn't born then.

The speeches themselves aren't particularly noteworthy. Though he can't understand much, they essentially follow this formula: "welcome remarks — individual introductions of specially invited guests — thoughts on the symposium — closing remarks." It's so standard that it borders on cliché, prompting Xi P to think, with a touch of dark humour, that if he replaced the faces and handshakes in this video with those of his kind, and labelled it 'Opening Address at a Foreign Language University in 1715', no one would bat an eyelid.

Clearly, these invitations aren't handed out to just anyone. Those present all seem to possess a certain level of decorum. During speeches, they sit quietly in their seats, listening attentively. When applause is called for, they clap in perfect unison — most even timing their applause to exactly three seconds flat. The moment the opening speech ends, a wave of murmurs sweeps through the video feed. Many people immediately start chatting with those around them, six or seven groups spontaneously forming in minutes. Usually, these would be organised by academic field, but with only six groups formed so far, the categorisation is rather broad. Those discussion seminars with hundreds of participants often naturally split into dozens of distinct groups by field...

Xi P fast-forwards the video. The crowd surges and the atmosphere seems lively. Midway through, people take turns to climb onto the stage and project and draw diagrams. Xi P recognises some of the diagrams, such as a right triangle. It seems that two mathematicians are competing to recall more proofs of the Pythagorean theorem... Mathematicians are weird.

But then things start to take a strange turn. About ten minutes into the video, the noisy crowd gradually quietens down. Two voices in the centre grow clearer. Judging by their tone, it sounds like they are arguing.

"What were they arguing?" Xi P asks Min.

Comfortably reclining on the sofa with a glass of freshly squeezed juice, Min turns towards the wall at Xi P's question. His expression twists into something peculiar when he sees what Xi P is talking about: "They're arguing about... um, quantum theory."

Xi P, however, asks again in confusion: "What does 'quantum theory' mean?"

'How exactly am I supposed to explain this to you?' Min suddenly feels like crying. This really isn't the simplest concept to explain. Not even to another human.

With no other option, Min resorts to explaining with keywords: "Science theory about, eh, small things, atoms… waves… randomness...", bringing his hands together as he speaks.

Min has no hope that this vague explanation will work. Surprisingly, however, Xi P seems to grasp it, reacting in an unexpected way: first, he looks suddenly understanding, then he shudders sharply as if recalling something terrifying. He turns his head back to the wall stiffly and unpauses the video.

Min does recall a bit of what those two at the PSDM were arguing about. They were debating quantum media for quantum computers — one insisted on ions or something, while the other something something. This disagreement sparked a heated debate, and they soon launched into relentless attacks on each other.

Although he knows nothing about quantum theory, Min recognised that these two men are from competing companies researching quantum computing. Perhaps personal conflicts were involved, too. People really can start arguing in the strangest places...

Min can't help but press his hand to his forehead and sigh as he watches Xi P slowly open his mouth, stick out his tongue and gaze expectantly at the wall. Honestly, he still can't fathom why Xi P is so eager for this kind of scene. Is this a cultural difference?

***

Fast-forwarding, the video finishes playing in just a few minutes. Xi P turns off the phone projection and collapses onto the sofa. He doesn't move, but instead closes his eyes as if savouring the previous scene.

Having finished his juice, Min sits down beside Xi P and, seeing him lost in thought, ruffles his fur and asks softly: "What are you thinking about?"

Xi P swats Min's hand away hurriedly, glaring at him fiercely first. Then he sighs, gathers his thoughts and replies: "I was thinking, how much better if, no, would have been, if I'd been part of the things, you were at back then."

"Huh?"

Chapter 34: The First Article

"CP 1765, September 20. 69 days have passed since landing. Local time: AD 2016, October 25."

"After rigorous time unit measurements, I can finally correct the date discrepancy. This place called 'Earth' has day lengths approximately 1.143 times those of Lierus. A bit more than I anticipated, but not a major issue — I've even grown accustomed to it."

"Collected data confirms that no lifeforms on this planet have evolved air sacs for flight. Birds clearly exist and thrive here, suggesting other organisms have replaced air-sac-dependent species as their primary food source."

"The absence of air-sac creatures stems from a simple reason: the lack of high-altitude plankton. Perhaps this branch simply never emerged during evolution. Beyond trace amounts of pollen and bacteria, the upper atmosphere here is nearly void of all manner of beings. I suspect it relates to the climate. Air-sac creatures, hindered by difficulty in vertical movement and lacking the stealth to ambush ground targets, naturally lost their necessity for existence. While birds lost air-sac creatures as a food source, their ability to fly alone was enough to secure their place in the ecosystem."

"Non-flying birds are the exception. Though they do exist here in small numbers. We can all just blame the niche gaps."

"Frankly, the sky without high-altitude phytoplankton actually looks more beautiful. It's almost pure blue and white, far superior to the muddled greenish hues. Their high-altitude fighters implicitly gain significant advantages from this, though they likely remain blissfully unaware."

"On the other hand, progress on the article has been painfully slow. Eight full days, yet barely any real advancement. Language barriers are always such a struggle... Regardless, the translation is finally complete. Thoroughly checked for absolute lexical accuracy. As for the citations, it seems we'll just have to take it one step at a time and await the journal's revision requests. Min's knowledge of this discipline is frankly inadequate, but luckily he has a friend who knows a bit about astronomy."

"Worth mentioning: the natural meat here has excellent texture. The muscle fibres offer a much more satisfying bite than factory-farmed alternatives, and it's relatively affordable. The taste, however, remains the same. Until someone figures out how to eliminate that odd flavour, I wouldn't recommend any tuefue to try it…"

***

Min is researching potential journals. Which immediately plunges him into decision paralysis.

By their standards, the journal has to possess a certain level of reputation without being overly prominent. It needs to align with the article's subject matter and fit the criteria of being relatively unknown locally but highly regarded overseas. While these conditions might sound demanding, the reality is that the sheer number of journals available — dozens to choose from — left Min dizzy with indecision.

Xi P is keeping his cool as he considers the many possible publishing options. In truth, he has encountered such situations countless times before. The situation with the journals on Lierus is even more overwhelming, with similar criteria potentially yielding over a hundred options. The competition within this industry and the sheer number of opportunists operating within it is a classic counterintuitive phenomenon. After all, most people are only familiar with one or two well-known publications...

With no better option available, Min closes his eyes and starts scrolling up and down the scroll wheel, attempting to select a journal at random.

Luck is on his side — the first random pick yields a viable option. After briefly reviewing the details, he wastes no time. He quickly reformats his draft email, selects the journal's address as the recipient, and after double-checking the content, clicks “Send”.

This doesn't calm him. In fact, quite the opposite happens: Min begins to tremble with a mix of nervousness and eager anticipation. He has submitted articles before, but today marks his first submission of genuinely groundbreaking work. What's more, he has written it with the help of an alien! The very thought is thrilling!

"You look very nervous." Xi P remarks.

"Of course I am! Don't you feel excited and nervous too? I bet you're even more excited than I am — you are an alien, after all!"

Seeing Min trembling all over, Xi P beside him can't help but sigh. Then —

He reaches out and places a hand on Min's head, patting it gently. A signal for him to calm down.

In terms of making Min stop trembling, the action achieves its goal perfectly. Min jumps back as if he has been electrocuted and quickly brushes off Xi P's hand. He turns to stare at Xi P, looking shocked and disbelieving. He wants to say something, but he's not sure what.

Maintaining an emotionless expression, Xi P meets Min's gaze and asks: "Do you know what the scientific explanation is for the act of petting someone's head?"

"Um, no, I'd like to hear it?"

"...Based on difference in reactions between the experiment and control groups, it proves that stroking another creature's head carries a meaning of show. It's a act of, unawaredly showing superiority, a way of looking down on their intelligence and brain size. That's where the satisfaction comes from."

"I know I look a lot like a fox, and I get why you want to pet a fox's head. But please, don't do it again. I genuinely dislike having my head petted. In many ways, it's an insult to my dignity, both as to my brain size!"

After staring at Min for an extended period — long enough to make him feel slightly uneasy — Xi P suddenly unleashes this torrent of words, bitterly denouncing Min's past head-petting habits.

The grammar is a bit off, and there are a few parts he can't quite make out. But he gets the gist. Min is speechless. Could petting someone's head really carry such connotations there? Well, aliens are aliens...

Min sighs softly and decides that an explanation is in order: "Xi P, it's not as complicated as you think."

"We're both aliens to each other. Some of our thoughts are completely different to what you imagine."

"The reason I touched your head — the examples you gave are probably part of it. But the main reason is simply that it feels incredibly good."

"You might not notice it yourself, but your fur, especially the soft down on your head, is the most comfortable I've ever touched. I find it genuinely hard to resist the urge to stroke your head. I'll try to cut back on it in future."

To Min's slight surprise, after hearing his explanation, Xi P seems... shy? Despite not having a human face and having sunglasses lenses over his eyes, Min can still sense it.

After a few more seconds of staring at each other, Xi P moves. Completely unexpectedly, he suddenly thrusts his hand down hard onto Min's head and begins kneading it vigorously. The force is so strong it nearly knocks Min to the ground. Before Min can react, Xi P turns and starts furiously cursing at the air in his alien language, which Min cannot understand at all.

Min instantly realises that he should have phrased his earlier words more delicately. Putting himself in Xi P's shoes, he is overwhelmed by revulsion. It's no wonder Xi P reacted so violently. From a human perspective, at least, saying that someone feels pleasant to the touch — especially when that someone is male — is utterly disgusting...

[Patreon] [Royal Road]

It is with great pleasure that I relay news of the passing of a very illustrious businessman. This morning I dug his grave, and soon, I shall add him to my collection. The only shame imparted by his murder, is that it hadn’t been at my hands.

In the cobweb-filled candlelit basement chambers beneath my gothic graveyard’s keep, Latin incantations read from my Necrotic Rites spellbook echoed from my tongue, casting to life an unsightly, rancid corpse from the center of my chalk-white circle.

The flames flickered and danced shadows across the walls, as Jack’s portly body rose from the cold gray dungeon stone, twitching while his lifeless, bloodshot eyes nearly bulged out from their sockets.

For the very first time, his pristine, elegant black wool ballroom suit — that had been toiled to perfection by the twitching mangled bloody digits of starving children and women slaves — was now riddled with dust, as my minions had dragged the formerly distinguished master by his ankles down my spiral staircase, bashing his vessel upon every step, displaying little regard for his esteem.

Ah, such is the beauty of death. How astoundingly humbling it can be! The pungent aroma of expiration in the air…the circle of life which proceeds it, awaits the most joyous moment of all — watching them learn to crawl within the same filthy bowels that they’d forced upon others.

Moments like these are precisely why I adore giving life, even if all my children are undead. For in time, Jack shall learn that he bares little more value than the shit beneath his feet.

The balding aristocrat perspired a fortnight ago, so rigor mortis had stiffened his limbs and slugged his movements. And, once he was first unearthed, his industrial stink permeated so profusely that my eyes persisted to water from afar.

Overcome by greater than the grime and decay seeping within my nostrils, my senses recoiled viscerally, an allergic reaction to the dreadful pollutants from the factories whose smog cast day to foggy night so intensely they concealed the stars. The scent mixed with the wretching smell of coal and feces born on his attire — a nightmaric signature of man’s worst attrocities — a common byproduct of this once grand metropolis called Zanria. Despite it being a bastion for innovation, corruption, drugs, and starvation stood as its distinct hallmarks.

Today I was generous enough to let Jacky boy keep just enough of his soul to function and agonizingly suffer under my control, affording him slightly shy of half. Anything less, and he wouldn’t remember much of his existence, neither his name, nor his past, whilst only a taste extra and he’d regain command of his vessel. It was a fact I’d discovered after centuries of testing — that apparitions reanimate most extensively when this balance is achieved, though only if their spirits still lingered in limbo.

I then consumed the rest of his soul like cotton candy. It tasted sour instead of sweet or rotten, as ectoplasm’s often do.

Regretably, his rancid soul served to further corrupt my mind, as coupled with consumption, comes adoption of the subject’s most horrific memories. Rapes, murders, and the most distastefully cruel events disguise themselves in apathetic justifications that often prove too troublesome to swallow.

Despite Jack’s revolting flavor, his lifeforce assists in preserving my appearance youthful while expanding my power, leading me one step closer to overtaking this filthy city, and soon after, I shall rule this realm. For far too long have I witnessed this tragic plane hunt down peasants and mages to near extinction for the manufacture of wicked weaponry, utilizing their essences as fuel. Many of which had been my dear friends. I forever mourn their loss — especially those who’ve lived as long as I. With their demise the silence grows, except for the lucky few I was able to bring back. Insurmountable restraint was required to not risk death via immediate retribution, so each day, week for years have I labored, carving a path of vengance fueled by countless tragedies eternally imprinted within my mind.

Someway, somehow, something had to give, while the pendulum of change swung evercloser. As with every slaughter, another wrathful soul seeking blood is born.

With the addition of Jack, my undead army now sits at twelve, primarily sourced from the underground tombs that, as the trusted undertaker, I painstakingly maintain.

It would have been thirteen, but Reginold died once more…only this time for good. He was already a decaying skeleton when I raised him after all, and to make matters worse, he was my first ever reanimation. His brittle bones hadn’t received calcium in centuries, so one day he just, well…fell and crumbled to dust, so I swept up his ashes, and now keep him in a sealed round jar, which he seems to fancy. However, ever since, in the middle of the night the most hideous sound occurs. At the witching hour, his container shrieks and shakes, so I tend to keep it sealed, and far enough away to not be disturbed.

But though a graveyard’s keep is a swell place for a necromancer to conjure up lost souls — especially since the horse fly plague lunged them from their vessels faster than I could ever venture to match — my mind was pressed on welcoming a new minion to my family.

For you see, his ugly mug was reknown all throughout town, and the useless husk my newest henchman would soon prove to be, would need to be ‘altered’ to more discretly do my bidding.

If he proved himself smart enough, he’d serve as my newest courier; though if he failed as many affuent undead had at even the most trial of undertakings, with only his hands to labor with, he’d be demoted to grave digger. No matter how much his cuticles bled from the dirt and pebbles that dug beneath his nails, he was cursed to painfully toil without pause or sustenance, mirroring the very same treatment unto him that he’d requested of his employees.

“Welcome, my dearest pawn,” I teased.

Then, with much pleasure and a demented grin plastered upon my face, I lifted my metal hammer by its dense wooden handle, and brought it crashing down upon his wicked features, again, and again.

CRAAAAAAACCCKKKK!

Into his left cheek the steel end pummelled, shattering his bones and displacing a few of his teeth onto the ground. Afterwards, I concentrated on the symmetry of his right, until I’d reformed his bloody and swollen jaw and sunken his face so thoroughly that it bore an uncanny resemblance to one of Picasso’s finest paintings. I kept striking upon his unsightly mug, to much delight, only stopping whence his face had been mangled unrecognizable. The bludgeoning method was preferable compared to wasting mana casting an always-active illusion spell, and far more satisfying.

“Yuck! Why do you wait until they’re reanimated, and not perform your surgeries when they’re dead, dear Aldric?” my older brother Fredrick Avery squaked while perched upon my shoulder.

Years back when we were fighting an evil shaman, Fredrick’s soul was fused within a magical bird with a mohawk called a Hoopoe, but since it wasn’t a native species, to not raise suspicion — utilizing the magical beast’s illusion abilities — Fredrick was disguised as a crow. Yet strangely, since they’re roommates in the same vessel, Fredrick and the Hoopoe share one consciousness. Though slowly over time, if my vow wasn’t met to restore him to a new vessel, the fusion of their souls would be permanent.

“Because I wish for them to suffer. Do you not know what Jack here has done? Tell him, dear Jack. Atone for your sins.”

“Guuu-” muttered Jack.

“What was that? Did you say something, Jack? Speak up, will you!”

Jack mumbled once more, as discernable syllables struggled to materialize.

“Oh, thats right! Silly me! I seem to have forgotten that I removed your tongue! How does it feel to be as voiceless as the addicts slaughtered for possession of the very magick dust that you helped infect the slums with?

Whose very souls were extracted to produce wicked horrors aroused by the darkest of arts. An act that was only possible due to this man’s financing, once advocates of capital punishment campaigned for their eradication, decapitation, and lifeforce consumption.” I stated.

“No, Fredrick, this man, and the many that follow deserve to suffer, and soon they shall at my hands. The power structure is about to inverse, and when it does, a requiem for the dead shall reign chaos upon them all. Then, like dampened clay, we shall mold a new order gifted by the assistance of their demise.”

Suddenly, a bell tolled from my lair’s main passage, frightening Fredrick to flight, and tabling our discussion prematurely. I quickly climbed the corkscrew staircase, heading up to the source.

When I opened the front door, there stood a stoic police officer whose hand was tightly grasping a small notebook, as he was hot on the trail of one of my previous catches.

“Good day, sir! How may I be of assistance?” I cheerfully inquired.

Intensely, the officer questioned me about the disappearance of a particular politician — the very spectre I’d previously attempted to reanimate to no avail. Yet he was as dead as could be. Some corpses cannot be reanimated, while others do not wish to. Those of which that are successfully respawned, tend to do everything in their power to destroy their vessels, but alas, they are cursed to the very fiber of their being.

In all the time he yammered on, not a single pondering escaped his lips regarding the vanished addicts and workhouse slaves — whose expendable lives were fated to torture and desperation — cast-out and cursed for being poor.

Nobility and Government alike denied responsibility, believing they’d drawn misfortune upon themselves via the absence of faith, so the Church did little more than starve and exploit them, while the Syndicate rendered their perverse endeavor more lucrative.

By the end of his inquiries, the policeman was convinced of my every word. Strangely, he took little notice that a man he’d also been searching for was standing right beside him as alive as dead could be. Nor did he react in the slightest to the tracking spell I cast upon him when I shook his hand.

What fools they all are! Which is precisely why this task shall prove rudimentary.

With each moon that passes, I grow evercloser to taking over this grand city, where horror lies around every corner. Here I stand with a growing mountain of skulls in bitter winter, and not a single lead does the most advanced police force in the country have on me. Either I have underestimated the breadth of their folly, or my cunning truly knows no end.

As I waved good day to the meaningless suit taking statements, Fredrick flew from an open window inside to reach me.

“Gregory has escaped! Vincent’s soul is resisting its vessel and raising hell! Haste be with you!” he cawed.

Vincent, my most recently deceased reanimated friend, was having an existential crisis. He hadn't wished to die — as a matter of fact this undead discovery as you might imagine hit him by surprise — nor did he desire to remain trapped here for even a second more, so amidst his relentless destruction of my vials and potions, he shattered a glass jar containing a depraved, twisted apparition known as Gregory.

Gregory and his wife were wrongly tried as witches and burnt to the stake centuries ago — while she was still pregnant. And time had yet to calm the embers festering deep within his soul.

Unlike Gregory whom floated above the ground in a transparent blue, Vincent was still a monster of flesh, so I locked him in a dungeon cell before returning to subdue Gregory.

“Gregory, good chap, we’ve talked about this, haven’t we?” I calmly attempted to tame his destruction, well aware that I may be left with no choice but to trap his loose spirit utilizing a wide array of spells.

He completely ignored me, and whilst his soul continued to reek chaos; a considerable quantity of irreplaceable glass concoctions formed into a damp sharp carpet upon the stone floor.

“I’m warning you…” I continued, however Gregory wasn’t intent on listening.

His next act commenced in him smashing a set of bone charms beneath his feet. Many were made with the bones of animals long since extinct.

“Oh, now you’ve gone and done it!” I screamed.

In an effort to cease his destruction, my focus drew to casting. I shot forward with my palm to administer a mood-shifting calming touch, but the crafty Gregory dodged my approach, and morphed his essense to form a whip that swept me off my feet.

SWOOOOOOP!

[Gregory’s Ghostly Trip Decreased My Vitality By 7%]

His efforts stained my white socks a crimson-red shade, the very same as my magical flasks, in an age where immaculate socks were rather tricky to maintain.

“My sacred socks, really?! I dare say you’ve now passed the point of no return, Gregory! It’s high time you met your maker!”

Both of us now angrily faced eachother, in agreement with one solutary detail — that an otherwordly battle between us likely drew near — a battle which destiny had commissioned to commence.

[Patreon] [Royal Road]

I was completely focused, entirely cut off from the outside world. Things had finally reached the point I'd been waiting for in the film I'd been watching for a full hour, and I was at the height of my concentration. The detective, who had been tracking down the culprit for the past hour, was now very close to catching and exposing him, and I was incredibly curious. He was about to open the door, walk in, and discover the culprit's identity. I was moments away from finding out whether my suspect was right.

When we look at something, we also see what's to our left and right, albeit vaguely. While watching the television directly in front of us, we can perceive the fan a meter to its right swiveling from side to side. Other objects and movements become blurrier as they move farther away from the center of our field of vision. Everyone knows this and is usually aware of it. Even if your grandfather, sitting to your right at dinner, isn't looking at you, he'll notice if you secretly flip off your brother sitting across from you.

At that moment, the world was nothing more than a rectangle to me. My field of vision had no depth. Ten eagles could have been flying around the room, and I wouldn't have noticed them unless they passed in front of the screen. I had to find out who the culprit was.

Even if you bring your eyes into sharp focus, your ears can't do the same and remain even more open to the outside world than your eyes. When you listen to a song you love, your ears become fully absorbed in it, and your eyes join in, too. You drift away, and your field of vision narrows. But your ears can't join your eyes in doing the same.

“Albert, shut your laptop,” I heard a whisper just as the detective was about to open the door.

At first, I thought it had come from the film. There was no character named Albert in it, and the laptop had very little to do with the plot, but still, I didn't want to take my eyes off the screen before the detective opened that door. However, I'd started thinking by then. A new thought had formed in my mind, and it had weakened my focus. I would enjoy finding out who the culprit was a little less.

I paused the film. I was still looking at the screen, but my field of vision had widened and become rounded again.

I thought I saw a ripple on my right. A moving, blurry image, about a meter in size.

When I turned my head to look, there was nothing there. I looked back at the screen. I thought to myself that being this focused wasn't good either. It bothered me that I was experiencing a mental activity so intensely when the only reason for it was a film. Was finding out who the culprit was really that important? I never focused this intensely when writing my stories, working on a thesis I had to finish, or learning Spanish in the course I'd recently started. That was probably why I'd heard the whisper, too. It was a trick of my mind.

I turned back to the screen. My desire to find out had diminished. Reluctantly, I pressed play.

But then I saw that ripple again. A transparent, shapeless thing, moving randomly. Like a transparent fire, its movements resembled those of a burning flame. I pressed pause.

When I turned my head to the right, it wasn't there again.

A sense of unease had come over me. I stared at the spot where the blur had been. There was no movement at all. All the objects stood still, just as they were.

This time, I saw the same ripple on my left, right in front of the laptop on my lap. I sharply turned my eyes back to the screen. Nothing. The detective walking toward the door, the confident expression on his face. That was all.

I set the laptop aside. I threw off the blanket I'd pulled up to my chest, got out of bed, and sat down at my desk.

I picked up my Spanish dictionary and opened it to a random page to calm myself down a little. I read a few words. The ripple was above me. I looked up at the ceiling, and now it was on the left. I turned to the left, and it moved to the right. Its size changed every time. Sometimes it was a one-meter rectangle, sometimes a scattered circle ten centimeters in diameter, and sometimes a thick line stretching from the floor to the ceiling.

I left the room, and it was on my right, in the shape of a circle. I couldn't get rid of it. My palms were sweating. Now it was on my left. I kept turning my head from side to side, up and down. And I could never bring it into my vertical field of vision; it was always outside it.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my T-shirt. Now it was above me. I tried closing my eyes. But I couldn't. The moment I closed them, a sharp fear would immediately take hold of me, and I'd open them again before even two seconds had passed. My gaze had grown much faster now. Left, right, up, left, down, right, up. I was looking around like crazy. I was like a camera trying to bring an image into focus.

I finally ended up with a stiff neck after one wrong movement.

I could no longer turn my head to the left.

And the ripple was on my left.

I turned to the left with my whole body. It stayed on my left. I turned left once more. It slipped to my left again.

I had turned a full circle. Now it only appeared on my left. It seemed to have found my weak spot. Every time I turned, I instinctively turned my neck a little, too. You know what a stiff neck is like. It's quite painful and sudden. During the day, you forget that your neck is stiff, and if someone calls out to you from your left, you turn to look at them. You feel that sharp little ache.

So I stopped trying to catch it. It stayed on my left, rippling. Sometimes it stretched out, sometimes it shrank, and sometimes it disappeared quickly and reappeared. I moved my pupils as far to the left as I could. Yes, now it had moved to the right, because my field of vision on the left had been reduced to zero.

Now only my pupils were moving. But the image was even closer. And it was getting closer and closer.

Finally, while I was looking straight ahead, I saw it. It hadn't gone away. It's impossible to describe its shape.

“I'm x56 c 66 bmf 8 bmd 8 g 9 kdr 8 889 klkw 999 c 3 d 3 v 3 m 3 g 3 o 3 12345. Thank you for playing with me. By the way, the killer is Michael,” said a voice from very far away, heavily echoing and robotic, sounding a little like a creaking door.

Without knowing why, I tried to catch it with my hand. It was an arm's length away. I'd acted impulsively out of excitement. And it vanished instantly.

The quick, deep breath I drew through my nose passed through my nose hairs and rubbed against my completely dried-out nasopharynx, producing a sound that was a mixture of a faint snore and a low-pitched whistle. I held the breath in my lungs for a while, then slowly exhaled.

I went back into my room, sat down in the armchair, and for some reason, burst into tears. It was like a catharsis. I couldn't remember ever crying this intensely before. Or maybe I was simply crying out of fear, but I wasn't sure that fear could trigger such an intense crying response.

I wiped my eyes, and just as I was about to get up to wash my face, the ripple began speaking from the ceiling, right next to the lamp. It had watched me cry the whole time. Strange.

“If you want to play with me again, all you have to do is look in the mirror and say my name three times, and don't worry, your memory will be erased by tomorrow evening. You'll only remember my name. You'll try to figure out what the hell it was, whether it was your old Wi-Fi password or something. Anyway, Albert, I'm out of here. Take care. It was nice meeting you.”