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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Bloodytearsofrage on 2024-10-02 11:38:39+00:00.

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(Synopsis: Mercenary spacer Ophelia 'Opie' Walczak is in a bad mood and just wants to be left alone for a while. She meets a little girl on the run in a town with a dark secret. Opie's bad mood is about to become everybody's problem.)

(Note: this story is part of the Captain Hargrenn series, but can be read on its own.)

previous

******

Fuck it. I had to move. Had to. And if I was going to move, it would only be by scooting on my ass. So that's what I did, sliding on my butt by pushing with my functional leg, trying to get a field of fire on the other windows. I was moving like a baby that hasn't quite learned to crawl. Another of those fuzzy, half-shocked thoughts crossed my mind: I'd better watch out, moving around like a toddler. This was a planet run by pedos. They might get turned-on by the sight. It made me choke out a nasty laugh.

I caught a glimpse of a stalk-eyed head passing the side window furthest from the bar and fired at it, causing it to duck out of sight again. Then there was a jangle of shattering glass from the window behind me, near the bar, followed by the sounds of someone climbing through it. On my ass and crippled, I couldn't turn fast enough to take proper aim before they could start shooting at me. I started to try and roll aside, my broken hip screaming thunderbolts of pain in protest at the move.

"Yah!" Harmony let out a high, birdlike cry that was followed by a crunch of glass breaking, then a whoosh of heat. Someone cursed loudly in a Gonhir accent.

I finally got turned far enough to see.

The Gonhir cop was on fire, orange flames licking at his side and pants. His carbine was dangling from its retractor-sling as he swatted frantically at himself to put the fire out, cursing and flailing, all three eyes wide with fear. And as I watched, Harmony took another of the improvised molotovs I'd left sitting on the bar and heaved it at him. This one she didn't bother to light first as -- smart girl! -- the cop was already on fire. That one didn't break against his body, but bounced off and shattered on the floor, leaving a puddle at his feet that soon caught. Harmony grabbed another and flung that one at him as well, with better result. It broke on his armor and the fire spread across his back.

The flames weren't big enough or intense enough to actually kill the guy anytime soon, though I'm sure it hurt like hell. The smart thing would have been to deal with us, the greater dangers, first and then put the fire out. But very few people can be rational and dispassionate when they're on fire. The natural sapient response to being set on fire is to immediately make not being on fire their number-one priority.

Natural, and understandable, but a mistake. I think he realized it, too, because he started to lift his weapon again, but by that time it was too late for him. I had him in my sights and I dropped him with a shot through the neck. Blew apart the spinal cord at the base of the skull. That's lights out for basically every sapient.

I was actually aiming for his head, not his neck, but whatever.

That left the one cop at the opposite window. I turned -- awkwardly -- back there, spotting another peeping eyestalk and shooting at it to no effect.

"Officers down!" the voice attached to that eyestalk cried, presumably into his communicator. "Requesting urgent backup and med support! I'm pinned down! Churgaz is trapped on the roof with a leg wound! I think the lieutenant and the others are dead!"

Since that cop sounded like he was inclined to stay where he was, I put a few shots into window and wall in his general area to hopefully encourage that idea.

Harmony was staring at the dead officer a few feet away from her, whose clothes were still on fire. As was the puddle around his body. But the floor was tile and concrete, so there wasn't much concern about the building going up from it.

"I killed him. I killed him," Harmony was repeating to herself. "I killed him. Oh dear, I killed him. I've killed somebody. Oh dear."

"Kid!" I croaked, making her look over at me. "You didn't kill anybody."

"I did," she insisted. "I didn't want to, but I did. I had to. I set him on fire and--"

"And he didn't die from that." I stared as hard at her as I could manage through the haze of pain and shock and booze. "I killed him. You set him on fire. I shot him. That's why he's dead, okay? Because I shot his ass. You have nothing to feel guilty about." It felt important that she understand that. That I was the one who was tasked with bringing evil fates to evil people. That my psyche and soul would be no worse off for having some new bloodstains on them, unlike an innocent little girl's. That's what I was here for, dammit. As far as I could tell, it's why God let a rotten bitch like me exist. "You just set him on fire as a distraction, right? And a damn good one. Well done, kid."

Either my words or the sight of me seemed to jolt Harmony out of the state she was sliding into. Her eyes went huge and she pointed at me. "Your hand!" she cried. "Your fingers!"

"Yeah. My... hip and my everything else, too. Oh, fuck! I can't..." I stopped and gathered myself through the jagged stabs of pain. "I can't get up. Sorry, but... I think... I think we're close to the end, here, kid." I started scooting myself with my good leg again, trying to get my back up against the bar. The movement left a smear of fresh blood like a snail trail behind me. I was lucky, if you want to call it that, that there wasn't a lot more of it. Human tissue tends to cauterize from blaster wounds. With how much tissue it felt like I was missing, I'd be at the point of bleeding out already if not for that. Can't tourniquet a hip, after all. I could tie off my mangled hand, I supposed, but I doubted that the blood loss from that would be enough to make a difference, all things considered. It wasn't like I had a long day ahead of me, or anything.

Harmony looked out the front window. I was too low to be able see down the street anymore, but she still could. "There are police coming up the street now, around that car you shot," she reported. "They're in little groups, ducking behind things and into buildings. They move like they're scared. But they're still coming."

The Gonhir cop's eyestalk poked above the windowsill again and I took another shot at the nosy bastard. Missed again, but heard him yelp as half-melted glass fragments sprayed into his eye.

Harmony had come around the bar to stand beside me. I heard her pick something up off the bartop. "Miss Opie?" she asked, voice quiet and a little unfocused-sounding, like her mind was on other things. "Do you want me to throw a firebomb at that guy?"

"I thought you didn't want to?"

"I don't want to," she agreed. "But the universe doesn't seem to care what I want. So if I need to do it, I'll do it."

I nodded. "Then, please."

Harmony lit the paper mat I'd tied around a bottle of some off-brand Jixavan methanol moonshine and heaved the bottle through the shattered window. It was a pretty good throw, landing not far from where the cop had ducked away. And the little 'yah' sound she made as she threw it was kind of adorable, too. A weird thing to think, given the circumstances, but there you go. It hit me that if I'd had a kid and they had turned out like Harmony, that I would have been pretty okay with that.

There was a whoosh of fire and high-pitched Gonhir curses from the other side of the window. I caught movement, the curve of a back and a single eyestalk as the cop made a break for it, hunched over. I fired at what I could see, but missed as he slipped out of view again. He fired off a couple of shots as he ran, missing well high and by some miracle not blowing out the last of the front windows.

"He ran behind that police car," Harmony reported, referring to the one in the parking lot. "I don't think I can throw that far."

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "He'll keep."

She nodded. "The rest of the police stopped moving while you were shooting, but now they're coming on again."

Yeah, I expected that. Like I told Harmony, we were getting close to the end, now.

There was a chirp from the bartop, the sound of a holocomm being activated. But it wasn't Chief Stamvra this time, who I assumed had no more to say to me. "Do you have any idea," a shrill, frustrated voice demanded, "how much trouble and expense you have caused? I'm out a hundred thousand standards out of my own pocket just to keep this shit-show running!" It was our old friend Melusine Doucet, the Boss Bitch. I couldn't see her image from where I was sitting, but Harmony turned to look at it, expression closed and unreadable. Not afraid. Not anything. Just watching.

"I've had to pay Chief Stamvra fifty thousand extra and call in multiple favors just to keep him from ordering you blasted out of existence!" Boss Bitch went on. I could just imagine the sneer on her smug face and felt a pang of regret that I wouldn't live long enough to wipe it off. "I've had to offer another fifty as a reward to see that you get brought to me alive and unharmed, Harmony. My own money! Do you hear me? My own! But, oh, you will pay for it later, trust me! Mr. Stejni will take great pleasure in breaking you to his will. And ...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/GeneralLeia-SAOS on 2024-10-02 04:01:23+00:00.

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(Content warning: mild eroticism, mild gore. Thank you to nessling12 for helping to inspire this story.)

“Shall we show them how it is done amore?” A handsome man held out his hand to her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she heard the sultry music play. Her eyes moved up his body, clad in a dark suit, with his skin contrasting beautifully against a creamy white shirt. She could just barely see that favorite spot, where his neck connected to his shoulder and chest, where his scent would make her ache with desire. She put her hand in his and smiled coquettishly. “Si, mi guapo.”

He led her out to the dance floor, with all eyes watching the striking couple. Her deep red dress hugged her woman’s body and contrasted perfectly with his suit. She hadn’t wanted to wear the dress, feeling insecure about the plumpness she had retained from giving birth some months ago, but her husband was having none of it. “Elena! You will wear the dress, you will drink sangria, and you will dance. Do not argue with me woman. Be ready in an hour! I shall see to Carmen.” Then he had given her a firm swat on her behind and stared forcefully as he pointed to the bathroom.

On the dance floor, he pulled her to him suddenly, in a classic tango move. A few onlookers initially thought the couple looked slightly off balance. Normally he was a couple centimeters shorter than her, but now the difference was at least 10. She had also tried to protest about the matching shoes he had purchased with the dress, but he had laughed off her objections “Los stilettos son necesarios. They are the pedestal so I can properly worship you.”

Their movements were beautifully coordinated, to the classic tango music and each other. She picked up his signals perfectly as he led, and he responded masterfully when she wanted him to twirl her near a table. He chuckled when he saw her pluck the rose from the little vase and put it between her teeth. As they danced, her flowing skirt swirled around them and the music reached a crescendo. He had spun her, taking the rose from her teeth to his. As the music ended on a high note, he dipped her, and ended the performance by supporting her with one arm while the other hand held the rose, softly stroking it over her face, down her throat, over her body. His warriors’ body in the suit was perfectly conditioned from years of training, and he could support her weight indefinitely. She was growing warmer with desire, his body pressed to her, getting hotter, then burning and blindingly hot, in sheer agony. She wanted to scream but couldn’t.

---

She awoke groggy, exhausted and sweaty. Her body ached with unbelievable exertion. A moment later a handsome man put a tiny newborn into her arms and kissed her sweaty brow. He spoke gently, “now our love is complete. I’m so proud of you amore. Every time I think it is not possible to love you more, you prove me wrong. I still wish you would let me name her Elena.”

She shook her head. “Manuel, it is not appropriate. She is our firstborn, so she should be named for tu padre, Carla or Carmen, but not after me.”

Manuel sighed. “Very well. I spoke to papa, and he says Carmen. Carlos and Carla would be too much confusion, especially with all the time she will spend with sus abuelos.” He had frowned at that thought. “Do we really want to do that? Before, I thought I could, but now that I actually see Carmenita, I have doubts. There are options.”

Elena smiled tiredly. “And what would you propose? That we buy one of those little Don Perrito food trucks and sell empanadas out of the back?”

He stroked her hair with one hand and carefully stroked the cheek of the infant with a finger from his other hand. “As long as I have you, I could do anything and be happy.”

Elena’s feet were cold, so she asked Manuel to cover them with an extra blanket. He did, but they were still cold. The cold crept up her body, freezing her, so she couldn’t move. She was so cold that it burned. The burning was in her entire body, coming from the inside, an excruciating torture far worse than giving birth.

---

She was barely conscious. Her whole brain was asleep except one tiny bit, smaller than a grain of sand, that was vaguely aware of a guitar being played, badly.

It reminded her of her husband. The first time he had tried to play for her was at her Quiceanera, when they met. There were other young men surrounding her. Out of desperation, he had grabbed a guitar and sang well but played horribly to get her attention. She had laughed and favored him with the attention he wanted. She found out from her brother later that it was fortunate that he had grabbed the guitar. Young Rodriguez had gotten in trouble for fighting many times, so he had enlisted in the Terra Marines to do something constructive with his volatile nature.

He was leaving for boot camp in a few weeks, and they saw each other at every opportunity. Their dates were always chaperoned, including to public places like meals at a Don Perrito franchise store that his uncle owned. Her parents initially disapproved of him bringing her to where they could get free meals, until Elena’s grandmother pointed out that many members of the extended Rodriguez family worked there, so this was actually the most efficient way to introduce Elena to them. In the last week, Manuel actually had Elena back in the kitchen with him, so they could talk for hours during his work shifts. He was even teaching her how to cook the empanadas, his specialty. Elena’s tattletale little sister had eagerly told their parents when Manuel started referring to her as promentida instead of just novia. The chaperones watched them carefully, ensuring the only physical contact was when they were rolling the empanada dough together.

That week in the kitchen was the happiest of Elena’s life thus far. She eagerly looked forward to it even though it was hot. The grill was hot, the fryers were hot, the ovens were hot… she felt it all burning her like her bones had caught fire, burning her entire body

---

Elena landed from the long jump in her medical power suit. She was exceptional as a Templar Medic, being able to operate her medical power suit like the Terra Marines did their combat suits. It was no surprise, given all the coaching she received from her husband, Captain Manuel Rodriguez. She landed next to 2 patients. Her computer showed one peppered with shrapnel, while another had a nasty acid burn. The shrapnel victim had elevated but steady blood pressure, so he was wounded but not bleeding out. The acid victim was soaked, and the acid was even starting to corrode some external circuitry. She quickly sprayed a heavy dose of a neutralizing agent onto the acid victim, then gave a mild painkiller to the shrapnel victim. She had the dosage high enough to prevent shock, but low enough that it would hurt him to move, so he would stay put for the moment.

Having stabilized them, she turned their combat suits to passive mode, then made another jump to a 3rd injured marine. She was thankful. Their enemy, the Garinja were extremely civilized when it came to warfare. They would actually negotiate terms of combat before a fight. Wounded soldiers placed in an override mode that disabled combat functions would be safe from overt attacks. Medics who did not engage in combat actions were also safe from attack. When the Garinja had heard that Earthforce medics would give medical care and food to captured Garinja soldiers, they had requested copies of basic human medical manuals and made sure to procure human safe food to provide to potential human prisoners.

The Garinja had been extremely warlike, but were also very pragmatic. During their Iron Age, they had codified warfare, to limit it to combatants, so that civilians and infrastructure would be safe. Garinja were also extremely amenable when negotiating peace treaties afterwards. As long as you didn’t violate the agreed upon rules, warfare with them was quite orderly. But if you did violate any of the rules, then Garinja would fight with absolutely no restraint, including violating Galactic warfare laws.

She landed next to the 3rd victim, who was on his back and moaning in pain. The soldier, sensing movement near him, instinctively fired a burst from a small machine gun. Elena had to kick his power suit with her own, to deflect his aim. She moved into his line of sight so they could see each other’s faces. She told him reassuringly, “I am una medica. I am here to help you.”

He nodded, then sobbed. She assessed him quickly. Part of the left leg of his power suit was missing, with some of his actual lower leg with it. He was bleeding out of the wound. She clamped on a tourniquet and hit the timer button on it, so the field hospital would know how long it had been there. She put his armor into passive mode, applied a strong painkiller, and pulled him up to his foot. She activated interlocks on her own power suit, so they were now one unit and could walk together like a 3 legged race.

She could tell by his fluctuating blood pressure and glassy eyes that she had moments before he lost consciousness. “Just relax. I will get us back to base. You are safe now.”

She walked them over to the other two victims. She sprayed medic-web on several wounds of the shrapnel victim. It had been developed after a mission to Plaukan. The Plaukants were an arachnid race. Spider web had been used in ancient Earth medicine, and was a staple of Plauk...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/StarboundHFY on 2024-10-02 03:22:01+00:00.

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Listen to the story on YouTube!

Humans, The Only Species Immune To Alien Mind Control

By: Angelos (Writer for Starbound)

It has been almost a standard century since the fall of the Taugesha Kingdom. Almost a standard century, since the Imperium of Terra became the first and only known civilization to resist the abilities of the Taugesha, that held the First Federation under their rule.

Most would call it mind-control, understandably, though it wasn’t quite it.

Vorf soldiers during the Ten-Day Revolt, turning their D.E. rifles to their own heads and pulling the triggers after a Taugesha hacked into their local comm frequences and told them to, their mass suicide captured in their helmet cams. Satellite recordings from the orbit of Jesefert VI, showing the Taxadian Attack Fleet turn on itself as soon as single message from the Taugesha was transmitted to them on a wide-channel broadcast. Then there’s the reports from the Teseraki star cluster, where a now lost civilization of Xenos had apparently dedicated their entire industrial output towards serving the interests of the Taugesha, for absolutely nothing in return.

Turning on the very comrades you fought and bled for side by side, serving without question, even killing yourself. All that just because someone told you to… For most intents and purposes, that is indeed mind control…

Except you see, the Taugesha couldn't actually impose their wills on others. They couldn’t make you do something you didn’t want to. What they could do, was far more insidious than that. They could change how others perceived them on a fundamental level. They could harmonize their brain waves to those of their targets, infiltrate their very subconscious. Make them think the tone and cadence of their voices was familiar and comforting, make them think their appearances were appealing, their scent calming… They could make you think you were talking to someone you’ve known and trusted for your entire life, someone you would catch a kinetic projectile for without even thinking about it. Then, since you already trusted them, it would only be a matter of them finding your deepest desires, what hid beneath your logic and even your instinct, and exploiting it. They could peer into the memories of you culture, your languages and dialects, your customs, religion, everything… They could prod into your mind, shifting through emotions, thoughts, and memories alike, until they found the buttons that needed to be pushed, the levers that need to be pulled, until you were just a puppet hanging from their strings, clay molded by the tips of their tongues…

Most sentient species in our galaxy, diverse and different from each other as they may be, share the same core desires. Safety, peace, comfort, the touch of someone they love… All universal traits among any civilization that has managed to reach the stars. All exploitable at the hands of the Taugesha, tools to make them want to do things their conscious and rational mind would never even consider. And the further away someone was from having those things, the more desperate they were for them, the easier it was for the Taugesha to dangle them in front of their eyes, yet just out of their reach. Take the Vorf soldiers that fought in the 10-Day Revolt for example. Stuck in the trenches of some foreign world they could barely even pronounce the name of, fighting for their lives, deprived of any sense of safety, comfort or love, surrounded only by mud, death, and misery. Those soldiers would do anything, if they thought it could lead them to being safe, comfortable again. All the Taugesha had to do, was convince them that the path to safety and comfort, begun by turning the barrel of their guns to their own heads and pulling the trigger… In their desperation and manipulated by the abilities of the Taugesha, that was exactly what they did.

The power of suggestion cranked up to its zenith. Mind-control, for all practical purposes…

For millennia the Taugesha ruled over the galaxy like this. Pulling the strings of their puppets, without them ever realizing it. Even establishing the First Federation to legitimize their rule over them, under the guise of an interstellar body of government ruled by vote. The votes of course, always happened to be to benefit of the Taugesha.

It was in the halls of the First Federation’s Citadel that the reports of a new star nation were revealed. The Imperium of Terra. Electromagnetic and gravitic scans revealed a technologically primitive civilization in the Galactic East, incapable of faster than light travel, and whose dominion over the Void extended to only a handful of star systems. Only those that were in range of generation ships, that transferred colonists to their new homes over entire generations. Immediately the Grand Council drew plans for bringing this new civilization into the fold of the Federation, and into their service… An ambassadorial mission was scheduled, full of gifts and the promise of a brighter future. A future bright enough to blind and distract from the gilded cage that came along with it. The Taugesha had no reason to believe that it would be any different to the rest of the civilizations that had been brought under Federation control over the centuries of its existence.

As the TKS Ge’rensha, the Taugeshan ambassador’s void-ship dropped in the edge of the Sol system, any assumptions they had of the primitive nature of Terra, were confirmed. The entire star system was dedicated to war. Rudimentary Directed Energy Weapon platforms dotted the orbits of all planets, planetoids and even large asteroids, Rapid Response Fleets lit up the vessel’s sensors, as they patrolled the system, and the chatter in the local comm frequences the Ge’rensha used to calibrate its translation software brimmed with military jargon. The First Federation had a standing army itself comprised from personnel of every nation-member, along with a Void Navy and defensive systems, but the bulk of military action on the rare occasion it occurred, was resolved by the Taugesha, and their abilities to control other sentients. For ambassador Ke-shean to see such a barbaric display of militarization was a shock. She had read reports from other ambassadors encountering similar circumstances when bringing new civilizations to the fold of the Federation, but never anything like this. Never anything so blatant in the brutality it signified. Standing on the ship’s bridge, gazing into the system that spread before her, she thought just how easy it would be to convert these Terran savages into servants of the Federation.

Before the thought was concluded, a spike in the ship’s gravitic sensors caught her eye. The spike was consistent with the profile of a void-ship grav-jumping in her vicinity. Could it be that the Federation had sent additional vessels as backup? She dared to guess.

The void in front of her vessel split apart like the gaping jaws of a ravenous predator, and in an instant her best guesses were proven horribly wrong. Instead of the slick design of a Federation vessel, with smooth lines that complimented the hull’s form and function, a ship of crude design, full of sharp angles and a hull filled to the brim with weapon installations materialized before her very eyes. Like a storm wave, the gravitic aftershock from its grav-jump shook the TKS Ge’rensha, forcing Ke-shean to grab onto the nearest command console on the bridge to stop herself from falling over. The reports had claimed the Imperium of Terra wasn’t technologically advanced enough to have access to faster than light travel technology, and yet, a Terran void-ship that looked as ugly as war felt, had just dropped in front of her. It had dropped close enough that she felt a storm of foreign thoughts assaulting her mind, shaking it. The disjointed thoughts of the Terran crew. The first words Ke-shean learned in the Terran language. “Enemy.” “Threat.” “Kill.” “Kill.” “Kill.”

Before she had a chance to evaluate her situation, an array of bright lights on the Terran war-vessel started blinking on and off. The Terran ship was trying to communicate. “Light signals. Primitive in their thoughts, primitive even in their communications”, she said to herself as she tried to prod the thoughts of the crew for what the light signal meant. Shifting through thoughts of violence and emotions of wrath, she finally managed to interpret the meaning of the signals. “Unidentified vessel. Power down weapons. Prepare to be boarded.”

“We are unarmed. Coming in peace.” The Ge’rensha blinked back.

Soon after, the clanking of boarding shuttles attaching themselves to the Ge’rensha’s airlocks reverberated through the ship. Four figures, clad in void-black armor made their way to bridge, pushing past the crew of the ship, kinetic weapons at the ready. Ke-shean had been at the business end of weapons before. She knew what she had to do. She focused her mind on the one that looked like the leader of the boarding party. She found memories of Terra, memories of once-blue skies and flowing rivers of clear water, she found memories of family, laughter, joy. But mixed within them, she found profound sadness, covering the memories like an unpierceable veil. She could exploit that, she could take advant...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Telemachusfar on 2024-10-02 02:41:43+00:00.

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Little busy to get a full chapter out but luckily for me I had this... which I'd forgotten I'd promised yall... sorry about that. I'll be updating this as I go, so it'll get longer. I already want to add an entry for our adorable little fuzzy friend Thwilll. Anyway we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming next week. Thanks for reading!

P.S. I *so* appreciate you guys who've donated to my ko-fi, it really helps out so thank you, thank you, thank you!

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Penelope, Security Officer

Tall and muscular even by human standards, many have described her as being built like a tank. Pen has short dirty blond hair and tan skin that is marred by a number of scars. Surprisingly, however, her face managed to make it through her service without receiving any scaring… so far. She has green eyes that many of her new friends find intense and unnerving and walks with a confident ease that speaks to the fact most places she’s visited recently have far lower gravity that humanity is used to. As humanity reached out to the stars, they found that they were on the upper end of size and strength amongst all the star faring species.

Gareth, First Officer

Hailing from a semi-aquatic species known as Weilans who evolved on a saltwater covered planet with only a few tropical island landmasses that peek above the waves. Gareth stands at just under 3 feet, but this should not be considered the norm for Weilan males as he is considered near mutaciously tall, even nearing Weilan females’ average height. It should be noted that male and female are terms humans ascribe to the binary reproductive system Weilans but it might be more accurate to say producers and caregivers. That is, one who produces young in the form of eggs and one who cares for those eggs. Weilan biology has a considerable level of sexual dimorphism. Females are drastically larger and so different in overall form that, without foreknowledge, one might mistake them for different species. Their sexual dimorphism also causes a population ration of about 25% female to 75% male. This led to a predominantly matriarchal society but not one that used that as a form of discrimination. Gareth, as a male, has a kind of pearlescent coral web crown atop his head and his general bodily construction is shrimp-like with two primary arms and many smaller ancillary arms below. Unlike a shrimp, though, he boasts two tri jointed legs. Certain lengths of his body are covered in a navy to light blue shell that covers his pinkish orange skin. He possesses two primary octopus-like eyes and a number of smaller eyes that often go unused and are normally closed.

 

Deag, Captain

The most easily describable non-human member of the crew as, even though his people the Corvul evolved utterly separately and have an equally alien biology from, they do share a striking similarity to canines. This extends to a similarly vast variability in appearance. Deag sports a coarse mottling of brown fur and brown eyes. He also stands on two legs but unlike Weilans and humans the Corvul are not entirely a bipedal species. Given their advanced age as a spacefaring race and predisposition for genetic variability there has been a small amount of divergent evolution in the Corvul people even in the last few hundred years. As such many Corvul walk on two legs whilst others walk on four. Corvul make no distinctions between their various differences. A Corvul is a Corvul. On a historical note, it was the Corvul who negotiated a peace between the younger Ossian and Weilan species. The most recent war in galactic history but also a war almost a thousand years since ended. The Corvul are naturally amicable and find their passions is almost any field. Historically, however, they have had a knack for diplomacy and trade.

 

Ton’et, Science Officer

Perhaps one of the more alien looking characters to a human, Ton’et best resembles an octopus. This is mostly just in silhouette, though, as they are a mass of tentacles that grow from a main body. They possess far more than eight limbs, and their skin is more of a sleek pattern of extremely small scales. Their skin is also uniquely capable of changing color in indication of their mood. Ton’et is genderless by human standards in addition to being sexless… currently. Ossian biology is about as far from human as possible to the point where human terms are basically useless but, in essence, they are capable of transitioning through multiple different states all of which have one or multiple necessary parts for Ossian reproduction. Ton’et is currently in a state that possesses none of them. Whist it is considered healthy to transition regularly, most Ossians find themselves favoring one or two. That said many have no preference or prefer not to participate at all. Ossians hail from a dense and vast jungle planet almost always shrouded in thick storm clouds. To a human eye it would look like a kaleidoscope of brightly colored flora and fauna, their ability to alter their color being an evolved survival strategy to blend into these surroundings.

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First Chapter

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Obsequium_Minaris on 2024-10-02 01:11:59+00:00.

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First / Previous / Royal Road / Patreon (Read 12 Chapters Ahead)

XXX

Pale and Kayla continued their march through the forest, neither one saying anything for several hours as they pushed their way through the dense underbrush. The entire time, Pale's mind was racing as Kayla's earlier statement continued to repeat in her head.  

She was right that her fear of being attached was certainly a very human emotion, and that left Pale worried. She was supposed to be a weapon pointed at humanity's enemies, nothing more and nothing less; the idea that she could possibly be developing a personality of her own was concerning, to say the least. Her prime directive had always been the defense of human life through the elimination of anything that would threaten them, but would she still be able to carry out her mission if, suddenly, she was able to refuse those orders?

Pale didn't know the answer for sure, and that was even more concerning. To refuse her mission would be to condemn billions of people to extinction at the hands of the Caatex. She couldn't risk it, especially not when they had been the ones to give her life in the first place; she owed them that much, at the very least.

After a moment to consider it, Pale shook her head, clearing those thoughts from her mind. Kayla had a point, but there was no sense in dwelling on it now. For the time being, she'd simply continue to work her way forwards, and that meant making it into the Luminarium, ideally with Kayla at her side, if only because doing so would mean she had at least one ally backing her up among a sea of out-of-touch and possibly hostile nobles.

"Hey, Kayla," Pale said, finally breaking the silence, if only so she wouldn't be stuck in her own thoughts for too long.  

"What is it?" Kayla asked without looking back at her.  

"Stop for a second. We've been walking for a few hours; we can afford to take a break."  

"If you're sure."  

Both girls paused, taking a seat on the forest floor. Pale shrugged her pack off her shoulders and laid her assault rifle across her lap, looking around as she did so.

"So," Kayla said after a moment's silence. "What's on your mind?"  

Pale shrugged. "Nothing much. Figured we both needed to rest our legs for a bit. How are you feeling? Still exhausted?"  

"Bit of a headache, but nothing too intense."  

"Good. We'll still need to fight at least one more person."  

Kayla hesitated, biting her lip. "About that… what if we don't find anyone? I-I mean… we don't have much more time, and-"  

"That statistical odds of that happening are extremely low," Pale pointed out. "Everyone is going to need every color of tome in order to gain entry. Worst comes to worst, we can simply park ourselves outside of the ending destination and wait for the next person to come along, then take them out and steal the tome we need from them."  

"Okay… but, let's say hypothetically we can't, for whatever reason. What would we do then? I mean, we both want entry…"  

That was a good question, Pale had to admit. She wanted entry because the Luminarium would possibly hold the answers she was seeking, whereas Kayla wanted entry because she had nowhere else to go now that her home town had been reduced to little more than ash. Truthfully, between the two of them, Pale knew she had the more valid claim, but she wasn't about to throw that in Kayla's face, not after everything they'd been through together.  

Luckily, she had an answer already.  

"Lifeboat rules," she said.  

Kayla blinked, then tilted her head. "Lifeboat rules?"  

"Yes. Essentially, in the case of a shipwreck where only part of the crew can make it out, rather than fight over who gets to go into the limited amount of available lifeboats, every sailor on board acts as though everyone will make it until the moment comes to draw straws, so to speak. Does that make sense?"  

Slowly, Kayla nodded. "I believe so… you're saying that, if something like that happens, then until it comes time for us to pick who goes, we're both going to keep working together under the assumption that we'll both make it."  

"Exactly right," Pale affirmed with a nod. "I see no reason for us to be at each other's throats over this. Like I said, the odds of us not running into anyone else are astronomically low as-is… but more than that, you and I are close, and I don't want to jeopardize that closeness by acting with hostility towards you."

Kayla let out an annoyed huff. "You can just say I'm your friend, you know… we've been through enough to justify it…" She shook her head. "Whatever the case may be, I think that makes sense."  

"Good." Pale looked up to check the position of the sun, frowning as she did so. She rose to her feet, offering Kayla a hand in the process.

"That's enough resting for now," she said. "Let's get going."  

Kayla nodded, and the two of them set off once more.

XXX

Unfortunately, Pale's prediction about the thick foliage slowing them down proved true, and by the time night had started to fall, they were barely halfway to their destination. The thought made her frustrated – they weren't short on time just yet, but it would soon become a valuable commodity, and they couldn't afford to waste it the way they had when they'd been forced to fight the Amalgamation.

Granted, she didn't exactly regret fighting it, but still.

"Stop here," Pale announced, causing Kayla to pause.  

"Yes?" Kayla asked.  

"We've gone far enough for one day," Pale told her. "We'll rest here for the night, then resume in the morning."  

"Are you sure?"  

"Positive. We're only halfway there, and the idea of continuing on through the night is unappealing, to say the least. The last thing I want is to risk running into a second Amalgamation."  

Kayla shuddered at that thought. "Gods, don't even joke about that…"  

"That was no joke, I assure you." Pale took her pack off and laid it on the ground. "Do you want the first watch?"  

"Sure," Kayla agreed. "You always take the first watch, it's about time I return the favor."  

"Very well. Let's-"  

Pale paused mid-sentence as she suddenly realized something – she couldn't hear any kind of ambient noise around them. There was no wildlife or even insect activity from what she could tell. And with the memory of the Amalgamation still fresh in her mind, that could only mean one thing.  

Slowly, Pale looked at Kayla, then brought a finger up to her own lips; Kayla caught her meaning immediately, and sparks began to dance across her fingertips.  

Unfortunately, that was the signal for whatever lurked in the dark to start moving.  

A dull chittering noise filled the air above them, and Pale looked up to find that the dense foliage had started to move. As she stared, several eight-legged shapes began to descend from webs up above, their eyes glowing red and their mandibles gnashing together as they did so. They were large, about the size of a human torso from end to end, and boasted a black-with-green-stripes pattern.

That was all Pale needed to see. She shouldered her rifle, flicking off the safety as she brought it to bear, then began to let loose with several bursts of automatic fire. As she did so, the spiders continued to descend down from the trees, coming as if in waves. A few seconds passed, and by that point point, the tide of arachnids was so thick that she couldn't miss; she simply held down the trigger, hosing the oncoming horde with armor-piercing 6.8mm ammunition. Each shot was another dead spider, the bullets occasionally tearing through one's chitinous body and into the one behind it.  

Kayla was no slouch, either – lightning and fire sprang from her fingertips, each one carving a swathe through the tide of spiders descending from the trees. And yet, it still wasn't enough – for every spider the felled, another descended to take its place.  

"What is this?!" Kayla shouted over the sound of Pale's suppressed gunfire.

"We must be right beneath some kind of nesting ground!" Pale called back. "Burn the trees!"  

"What?! But we're right-"  

"Burn them, Kayla!"  

She didn't need to be told twice. Kayla pointed a hand upwards, and flames spouted out from it, jetting up several dozen feet before finally making contact with the foliage above. The fire illuminated a thriving mass of spiders above them, and also caught the trees ablaze; a loud hiss filled the air as those spiders that were able to shrank back from the flames in an attempt to get away, while those that couldn't burned alive.

"Run, now!" Pale shouted. She scooped up her pack and threw it over one shoulder, then turned to take off running, only for a pained shout to catch her by surprise. Eyes widening, Pale turned around, and froze at what she saw.  

One of the spiders had dropped directly onto Kayla's back, and now had its fangs buried directly in her neck. Kayla was trying in vain to knock it loose, but it was no good; Pale hurriedly switched her weapon to semi-automatic, then took a careful, aimed shot that eviscerated the spider, finally dropping it off her friend. Once it had been dealt with, Pale surged forwards, took Kayla by the h...

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Synopsis:

Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.

Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.

Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.

Chapter 293: Not A Moment Too Soon

The endless fields of berries were our escort as Witschblume faded into the distance. 

All around us, sugary droplets as large as pears jingled against their vines. As a warm breeze carried its way across the dirt road, I caught snatches of every season and every colour. From summer redcurrants to winter yuleberries, if it grew, it existed. And if it existed, then it did so in Coppelia’s mouth.

“Om … om … om … om …”

Skipping merrily alongside Apple as he bore me, a certain clockwork doll was flicking berries high into the air with practised motion. 

They hovered for a moment, their skins still wet with dew before falling into the waiting jaws of oblivion. And so the cycle of life was repeated. Berry. Air. Mouth. An unbroken rainbow of gluttony joined occasionally by Apple as he sampled the local produce.

Indeed … it was a picturesque calm to match my gentle and demure nature. 

Yet not for a single moment could I delude myself into believing that the swaying berries were as sweet as the falling apples in my orchard. Not only because I refused to forage like a wild badger. But also because I refused to do it while there were witnesses.

“Haah … haaaah … haaaah …”

“Hurry … we’re almost there … hurry!”

“Don’t slow down! We’ve almost made it!”

As my hand reached out to inspect a dangling strawberry for research purposes, I snapped back and busied myself with toying with the ends of my hair instead. 

I needn’t have bothered. The chorus of breathless women had no eyes for me. A few tossed baskets and bags of produce to the wayside, abandoning even the smallest weight to hurry themselves past.

Some, however, abandoned things that were slightly larger.

“Mother, I … ahh–”

Amidst the gaggle of women rushing past with desperation upon their faces and sweat trailing from their brows, a lone girl stumbled and fell, her grasp breaking free from her mother’s. 

She looked up with dirt caking her shins and tears swelling her face. The mother stepped towards her, hesitated, then turned and ran, tears flying behind her as her child was left as abandoned as the strewn potatoes.

I immediately tugged Apple to a halt, then leaned down towards the child. Hope filled her eyes as she reached up to me. I offered a nod and a smile, then reached past her and fixed her collar before tugging Apple onwards again. 

A scene of panicked fleeing. 

Yet as I turned to glance behind my shoulder, I saw neither a burning village nor a baron sneezing wetly into a handkerchief. Witschblume Castle’s white walls still overlooked a town filled with revelry. And yet those who hurried past did so in an unending line, chased by invisible hounds.

I looked on in puzzlement.

“Coppelia?”

“Mhhm? Whaftsit?”

I duly waited a moment as Coppelia swallowed all she’d hoarded in her mouth like a woodland squirrel, then pointed towards the fleeing commoners.

“This is the sixth group of peasants attempting to escape Witschblume … by any chance, did you leave something behind?”

Coppelia opened up her pouch. As her hand delved into the very bottom, a sinister aura of twisting darkness almost threatened to escape as she scooped something up.

“Nope,” she said, closing her pouch with a bright smile.

I nodded, all the while setting my mind to work on ignoring what I’d just seen.

One of these days, I’d know what things Coppelia kept in her pouch. And that would be when I heard about it via a brief note that a corner of the world had just mysteriously vanished into the abyss.  

“How strange. I see nothing which warrants such a desperate escape. Is this a practice drill?”

“Probably not. Too much effort. Not enough screaming. During our practice drills, you either calmly make your way to the designated escape point or stand still and scream loudly. Most choose to scream.”

“Is practising screaming beneficial for navigating a crisis?”

“Sure. Escaping is tiring work. You have to climb stuff, sweat and probably still kick the bucket. But if you just stand still and scream, someone’s bound to come rescue you.”

“That hardly seems fair. If everyone is screaming, how will the princesses be rescued first?”

“They don’t. The princesses always come last.”

I gasped, my hands covering my lips and the strawberry hidden in my mouth.

“Thasch ish abominable!” I swallowed in outrage. “Why would princesses, rare enough as they are, be ever considered last?”

Coppelia giggled, arms out as she pirouetted on the spot.

“Naturally, that’s when the escape will be the most impressive!”

“Wha … that is appalling! Princesses are not show horses leaping through flames!”

“I mean, it’s not always flames. Sometimes it’s heights. In fact, definitely try not to be in a tower when a calamity occurs. You’ll probably land in a hero’s arms, but nobody talks about how many broken bones that kind of last second rescue involves.” 

“Nobody shall talk about any last second rescue. As humorous as it is to shatter the arms of any hoodlum who dares to think they can carry me, the only escape I intend to make is from Ouzelia.”

“That’s going to be a really long jump.”

I wrinkled my nose as I looked ahead.

“Not if I begin now.”

Coppelia only wore a look of amusement, doubtless already having seen what I did.

But just in case either of us failed to see it, there was no avoiding that all too familiar noise in the distance. One I sorely hoped I was mistaken about.

The commoners, true to their diligent training in the event a princess was not here to save them, were each in the midst of their finest scream. 

As Apple approached, I heard it like a gathering din in the distance, greater than any thunder. Here was a rising squall like the sound of a thousand whistling kettles out of tune. 

Because whether in my kingdom or this realm of oddballs, it was a given that just like my kindness, some things remained constant.

The wild cheering of maidens being one of them.

Indeed … I knew what to expect even before I saw them.

Soon, I tugged Apple to a halt as the path before me was obstructed by every damsel to have rushed past me. Young or old, all the women of Witschblume had gathered with the single-minded efficiency of a flock of lambs as they blocked passage to a narrow bridge across a river I needed to cross.

And the reason was obvious.

Why, it was the same reason any time a town filled with maidens ventured out en masse.

“Kywaaaaaaaaah~”

“He looked at me! Get me the wedding bouquet! Get the bouquet now!”

“Even his horse is majestic! I feel so lucky!”

Yes.

A knight in shining armour.

Sat upon a white destrier as polished as marble, a knight resplendent in silver and falling petals sat absorbing the attention of all his onlookers. 

Eschewing the need for a helmet, he allowed only the shearing gleam of his smile, his white teeth and the golden locks of his hair to blind his opponents instead. Likely by causing them to remove their own eyes. The very picture of a knight, his cheeks so smooth even oil was coarser. 

And here he was, his very presence a public nuisance.

Readying my rolling eyes, I tugged Apple’s reins and pushed him onwards. Or I did, until a chain link of several arms fenced themselves before us. 

I pulled Apple to a stop, charitably deciding not to cause a diplomatic incident … yet.

“Where are you going?” asked a maiden in a breathless tone, her look of horror as morbid as my own.

I raised my arms in exasperation.

Why, the absolute state of Ouzelia! Here it wasn’t brigands which accosted me, but senseless maidens! A foe so dauntless even I was tempted to flee at once!

“Where am I going?” I pointed ahead. “I am going about my day, which is to pass that bridge.”

“You can’t.”

“Why can I not?”

“Sir Gardrin is there.”

I looked at the mounted knight. 

Still as a statue, he joyfully monopolised the wooden bridge. And though he sent no acknowledgement to the shrieking maidens forming a semi-circle before the first steps, he was content to bask in their adoration all the same.

“Yes? Is he guarding this bridge? Does his lord own it?”

“No, this bridge belongs to WItschblume.”

“Excellent. A knight loitering on public infrastructure. Just the sort of thing I will ignore. Now if you’ll please excuse me–”

I waited. The maidens chained together more.

“You cannot approach Sir Gardrin.”

“I have no intention of approaching him. I would rather melt my face in a witch’s cauldron...

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First...Previous...Next

Barteool didn’t get a lot of time to look around the forest before a huge backpack threw him to the ground. Panicked, he watched as Aragami rushed to the Dendrae before others got in the way.

He struggled to get the backpack off of him, twisting his torso to push the weight to the side with little to no luck. Then, a group of four Guild Security officers entered his vision and with all of their efforts combined, pushed the backpack to the side, freeing him and two scholars that were stuck.

Barteool tried to stand up, but a sharp pain in his ankle sent him to the ground again. “Fuck!” he yelled out and grasped his wounded leg.

Luckily, one of the healers noticed his struggle and marched over, gently dragging his hands away from the wound and casting a low healing spell.

“What happened?” Barteool asked, the pain in his ankle slowly disappearing.

“Your ‘friend’ carelessly tossed his bag and rushed at the guardian. The Guild Master and the rest went to mediate and instructed us to take care of the situation here.” Another scholar spoke up from beside him, disdain dripping from every word. “Your companion went with them, and you are to do the same as soon as you are able to.”

With that, the scholar turned away and walked to care for his other comrades. Barteool nodded and thanked the scholar that helped him and looked around. The area was plunged into chaos. It appeared that Aragami threw his bag to one side and threw himself to the other. There was a clear straight pathway of scholars shoved to the sides without a care in the world.

‘Welp. Let's go, then.’ Barteool shrugged and got to running through the chaos.

As he emerged from the group, he immediately saw Guild Master Zaanta, Battering Ram Ghanna and Barrier Mage Tiina waiting a short distance away, in between the group and Aragami wrestling a Dendrae. As he jogged up to them, he searched for Virria. She was supposed to be with them, but he couldn't see her.

“Ah. Barteool! Finally!” Guild Master said as he came to stop. “Now that all of us are present, let us try and mediate the situation before anything too bad happens.”

“Excuse me?” Barteool raised his hand. “I don't see Virria here.”

“She's gone ahead to try and stop him while we gather,” Tiina answered, a slight smile on her face. “We told her to wait for us, but she gave us some…valid counterarguments.”

He could imagine her arguments, so he just sighed and gestured that he was ready to go.

As they approached, it became obvious that something was very wrong. Even though Virria tried her best, Aragami was not responding at all. In fact, he was back to his original size and ripping various branches off the poor Guardian's body.

The barrier Mage prepared her staff, perhaps to cast a barrier in between the two, but stopped herself mid-incantation.

Zaanta looked at her questioningly, but Tina just pointed to one of the trees, her hand shaking.

As they all turned their attention to the tree as well, Barteool’s legs almost gave out. The tree was twisting and growing at an unnatural pace. It then stopped moving as suddenly as it started, before its roots shot out of the ground and pulled the whole tree above.

He covered his face with his hands to protect himself from the dirt and stones flying through the air, before he felt Ghanna's hand touch his head and slam it to the ground. He wanted to protest, but then he heard a weird, shaky voice from in front of him.

“Raise your heads.”

He did so very carefully. In front of him he saw Guild Master and Barrier Mage kneeling on the ground. Ghanna was beside him, with Virria on her other side. And in front of them was another Dendrae. This one even older looking than the one they met on the way into the forest.

He was amazed to see such a powerful being in front of him. This was something he would be telling his grandkids and great grandkids. He was sure of it. And then he heard the other voice.

“%@×!#*£:&#@¡‽”

It came from the left, where Aragami was. The voice was deep, rumbling, and was as pleasant as if you dragged a battle ax against a stone floor. And it was coming out of Aragami's mouth at the moment.

To everyone's surprise, the older Dendrae immediately snapped to attention and answered in the same language, albeit in a much more pleasant voice. To everyone's amazement, Aragami started to scold him, pointing to him and to the other, weaker Dendrae that lay on the ground with ripped off branches.

“Oh, he's dead.” Ghanna muttered beside him and got a quick glare from Zaanta for speaking out of line. But Barteool had to agree. You simply don't speak up to the Dendrae. He could see the fear in Virria’s eyes as she watched the situation, unable to interfere.

“It's not him.” Virria whispered. The Guild Master turned her head slightly, still maintaining her kneeling position.

“Explain!” She demanded quietly.

“Aragami's eyes!” Virria pointed a finger. “They changed color, his movements seem shaky and unsure. And the language he speaks seems unnatural.”

Barteool focused on the beings in front of him, their discussion gaining momentum. He carefully observed their movements and saw what she meant.

“She's right, Guild Master!” He whispered, unable to snap his eyes away. “That's not how he moved through the forest. He was way more fluid.”

The Guild Master narrowed her eyes and turned to observe the being. After a short while she nodded slightly.

“I can see what you mean. Those movements are nothing like during the fight with Ghanna.” She paused. “Tiina? Could it be a case of possession?”

Barteool felt his blood freeze over. Possession was extremely risky if you weren't careful. The majority of mages that got possessed wreaked havoc before they were forcefully taken down by whole groups of Adventurers and soldiers.

“It is quite possible.” Tiina confirmed. “However if that is the case and it comes to fighting, at least there's a Dendrae to help.”

Barteool could do nothing but watch and listen. His head filled with images of stories his father told him. Of the mighty Dendrae that enforced nature's laws and principles on anyone that disturbed the balance. He briefly wondered if the Dendrae would even bother helping them if worse comes to worst.

Then, the Dendrae turned to them. Its eyes swept over their group, before settling on Guild Master Zaanta.

“Please, stand up, Adventurers.” It's voice rang across the small clearing. Barteool could swear he heard some suppressed emotion, but discarded the thought. The main objective right now was to survive.

The Guild Master was the first one to move. She slowly stood up, still maintaining her subservient stance. Tiina and Ghanna followed suit, and so did he and Virria.

The Dendrae slowly nodded before speaking. “I understand that this situation is not pleasant for you, so allow me to explain. This right here,” the Dendrae pointed one of its roots to the poor Guardian “is one of my apprentices.” Barteool noticed the Guild Master in front of him perked up. “And your friend over here had made a deal with an old benefactor of mine.” The Dendrae pointed to Aragami, who just threw one of the Dendrae's branches to the side. “He is currently lending his body to my benefactor for a set amount of time to punish my stupid apprentice for a serious mistake he's made.”

Barteool almost sighed in relief. Aragami was still there. He just made a deal with…something. He didn't care about the rest.

“Now that I've arrived,” the Dendrae continued. “I have volunteered to take over the punishment.” The Dendrae bowed slightly. “I am sorry for any injuries or confusion this matter has caused among you, mortals. Please, accept my sincere apology.”

The Guild Master bowed deeply in reply. With her head to the ground, she went to politely refuse any need for an apology.

“The matter of apology is not my decision. I have violated an ancient agreement which had you all dragged into these events.” The Dendrae shook his crown. “As an apology I have offered myself to… mediate the matters between your group and my benefactor here.” One of the Dendrae's branches pointed to Aragami. “But I was refused. Since HE would like to talk with you without a mediator to translate HIS will.”

As the Dendrae spoke, Aragami slowly walked over to the group and knelt down to their height.

“HE offers a short term contract to either of the Raakteigs among you, to allow HIM to take over your body and speak to you in your own tongue. It has been a long time since HE interacted with you beyond HIS obligations as a Law.”

That last sentence shook everyone present at their core. A personification of a LAW wished to talk to them. And even went out of its way to talk their language!

“We are honored to be granted an audience with…” Guild Master began, but she was immediately shushed by the Dendrae.

“Do not tell it to me. If you accept the offer, choose one of the Raakteigs to accept the contract.” The Dendrae seemed annoyed now. Guild Master, clearly lost as to what to do now, looked at Batreool for help, but he was as confused as she was.

Virria, on the other hand, stood up and to the shock o...

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"The last time I wanted to die was six months ago."

She slowly rolled up her sleeves, and then showed her arms, palms up, "That's when I got these."

The long scar up her right arm was straight, the one up her left arm was more jagged.

"It wasn't the first time that I wanted to die, it wasn't even the first time I took... Steps.

"But it was the first time I did something like that."

She pauses, taking a deep and somewhat ragged breath, "I wish I could say that it was the last time I would want to die."

She looks down, "Or the last time that I'd try to make it happen."

She closes her eyes, taking another deep and ragged breath, before tilting her head up, and opening her eyes, eyes which had a frightening depth to them, "I wish that I could say that it was a one time thing. But I can't."

"I suffer from depression. I have for much of my life, and... I probably will for the rest of my life."

She gives a very wry smile, one with very little happiness in it, "Sometimes I think that it's just a matter of time, that I already know that I'll die by my own hand."

Another deep breath, her eyes now shining with unshed tears, "Sometimes I can believe that I'll keep my head above water, that I'll be able to keep wanting to live enough that I won't ever go through with it."

"I really want to believe that."

A long pause, then a slow look around the room, "Today, I know, I can acknowledge that there are people in my life that want me to live. That would be hurt if I didn't. Who want to be there for me."

The tears are not entirely unshed at this point, "And I am more thankful than I can ever say for those people. I'm not sure if I'd still be here or not without them, but I do know that my good days wouldn't be nearly as good without them.

"But I also know that they can't save me. That it's not up to them if I make it through the darkness or not.

"I wish it was. I wish that they could make that choice, and that I would never have to face my depression alone again.

"But... I'm also glad that they can't. That if I don't make it, that it won't be their fault. That it can't be their fault. No matter what."

Tears are actively falling now, even though her smile has more happiness in it than it did, or perhaps because of it, "I won't say that my depression isn't partially situational. That my environment and those around me have no impact. That would be a lie, and it would be a massive disservice to people who do so many things, for me and others, to try and help us."

"But I will say that sometimes... Sometimes it's a fight that those of us who suffer from depression like mine have to fight alone.

"Not because we want to, not because nobody wants to help, not because there aren't people in our lives who would fight it for us if they could.

"But because sometimes... Sometimes the depression won't let us see the people around us who care.

"It won't let us know that we are loved, and that there is no way that our dying would help them more than it would hurt them.

"Sometimes we have to face our demons alone, in the darkness. Even if we're surrounded by those who love us, even if we're being held by them, sometimes the depression won't allow us to be anything except alone in the darkness of our own minds.

"Sometimes, it's a fight that we have to fight every hour of every day.

"Sometimes, we can go months, or even years, without much of a struggle.

"And then we find ourselves in the darkness with our demons once more.

"Not because anything around us has changed, but because we suffer from depression, and that depression isn't always about facts, or logic, or even reality.

"Sometimes it's just the demons of our own minds, lying to us, hiding the world from us, making us all alone, even when that's not true."

The smile grows a little more real, "Today I'm alive. Today I want to be alive. Today I'm happy to be alive."

"I hope that I feel the same way tomorrow. And I hope that tomorrow you feel that way as well."

"But if we don't, if the darkness returns, I hope that we can find the light again.

"And if some day we fail, I hope that those who love us remember that it's not their fault.

"It's not our fault either.

"Sometimes the demons win. Sometimes the disease kills us.

"But like I said. Today isn't that day. Today I'm happy to be alive.

"And just because sometimes we have to fight alone, it doesn't mean that we have to lose."

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Determination7 on 2024-10-01 20:39:26+00:00.

---

Nayt stood back, intending to continue his plan of slowing down the pace of their duel and forcing Ferrero into a more difficult guessing game. 'Sword fighting is a matter of statistics – not legendary techniques,' he confidently thought. 'If I can force the Puppet into repeated exchanges where his odds are poor, then in the end, I'll win. I still know not what his sorcery is that allows him to wound me, but it won't matter if–'

Ferrero leaped forward at him.

'You're the one attacking?' Nayt pondered. That didn't make sense. The only way Ferrero had kept up despite his lacking speed was with counterattacks. Initiating a frontal assault was tantamount to suicide!

Which was exactly what the Duelist had wanted him to think.

'You think you have an overwhelming advantage,' Ferrero thought. 'Because of that, you'll instinctively go for the kill again. A Countersixte-Parry and riposte, aimed right at my chest. It'll give me the chance to disengage and win the exchange.'

When they fought next, everything played out precisely as he'd thought it would.

Even moreso than seeing a weaker swordsman prevail, it was the sheer accuracy of Ferrero's prediction that unnerved Ciro. How could the forsaken Puppet be so preternaturally skillful?

"That makes us even, we are tied once more!" the Duelist declared.

And more importantly...how was he able to bypass their Talents' difference in Rank? That question burned Ciro more than anything else, yet it barely seemed to register in the Elf's mind.

"A tie? You cannot be serious." Nayt retorted. "You've barely been hanging on. I am clearly your better in every way."

The elf's voice was deadpan, but not in a manner of dismissal. No – this was a purposeful, targeted slight.

This was trash talk.

'Don't you dare, Puppet,' Ciro seethed. 'It took years to mold Nayt's heart into an empty tool, slaying and killing however I pleased! Don't you dare corrupt him further!'

"Yet still, I hang; this lifeless Puppet lives!" Ferrero shouted, defiance in his voice and confidence in his smirk. "Kill me and prove me wrong, if you so dare!"

In actuality, he agreed with the Hangman's take on their duel. Nayt was physically superior. Any prolonged exchange – where they spent time feeling each other out and acquiring information about the other's intentions – would eventually end in his favor. But by quickly forcing them into repeated clashes, that advantage was lessened.

Just as Nayt had constructed his strategy to pave his path toward victory, so had Ferrero.

'Let me think.' The Duelist considered his possibilities. 'How often does my opponent have the advantage?'

In his first assessment, he decided on a baseline. The two swordsmen were relatively close in skill and physical ability. Immediately going in for the kill would have odds of...about 5 out of 10 for either of them.

No. That wasn't quite right.

Truthfully, Ferrero had a higher opinion of himself than that.

'If it comes down to a matter of out-predicting him in the critical moment, I'm confident that I'd win 7-times-out–of-10.'

'The longer an exchange lasts, the more the gap in our physicality widens. At that point, after about ten seconds of testing our ground, I can only win about 5-times-out-of-10.

'Worse still...if he can drag an exchange out to twenty seconds or longer, then my chances of winning plummet to merely 1-time-out-of-ten.'

It wasn't an exact science, but it was close enough. There were other factors to consider as well – wounds, exhaustion, and the fact that the Hangman was more likely to land a fatal blow if he won an exchange, whereas Ferrero would probably only land a small cut.

Nevertheless, it made the Puppet's next move quite simple.

He moved his grip on his blade up so that his hand was nearly touching the guard, as far away from the pommel as possible. This lessened his reach, yet also granted the blade a wider range of movement in a close-quarters combat.

'So that's your plan,' Nayt thought, as he witnessed Ferrero advance towards him with explosive speed. 'You're going to force me into 'large' decisions so that I can't force you into numerous 'small' decisions. And by engaging me at close range, where I barely have time to prepare my next move...you're hoping that my decision-making faculties will be diminished.'

His eyes glistened with excitement. 'Very well, Puppet! I accept your challenge!'

And so they went. The two men continued this uneven, unfair gamble, with their very lives resting at the tip of each other's blades. Again and again they clashed, exchanging attacks, blood, and pride.

Their unrelenting skirmish continued until a most curious occurrence. Both had landed superficial wounds upon each other at the same time...yet Ferrero's injury bled far more profusely.

"Why is your shoulder so wounded?" Nayt asked, narrowing his eyes. "It doesn't make sense. I've seen your body resist fiercer wounds than that, Duelist."

Ciro's eyes widened. After minutes of searching through the Puppet's mind, he had finally seized upon the answer he'd been looking for. His mouth fell open, and it took the Emperor of the World a moment of stuttering before he was able to voice his findings.

Knowing how this powerless Puppet could duel one of the mightiest Hangmen did not ease his mind in the slightest.

For the first time in his life, the same man who had killed his own brother for the sake of learning more about the Painted World, and then laughed at his decaying nightmare of a reality...felt horrified by the truth.

"Nayt!" the Emperor shouted. "That Puppet – that insane Puppet isn't using his Talent when he attacks!"

Ciro failed to keep a note of furious bafflement from sneaking into his voice. This wasn't just absurd; it was an affront to the natural order of the universe. "He only activates his Talent to add momentum to his movements! Whenever he lands his actual attacks, he stops using it entirely!"

The elven Hangman's mind raced through several thoughts in succession. 'That explains the odd interactions between our Talents.' Dueling was a useful Talent, but it had obvious limitations. Raising one's physical abilities in single combat was worth little if the user still couldn't overcome a difference in Rank.

Ferrero's solution had been to use his Talent as much as possible, then deliver the final blow as a completely normal person, without any magical abilities involved. Rather than a Clash of Talents, their exchanges became clashes of pure physicality.

'Talents fall to raw violence,' Adam the Painter had often said.

It was a simple, elegant solution...yet there was a reason why no others had ever attempted it.

Using his Talent only at the most critical times meant he was relying on his swordsmanship and nothing else. During that single moment, Ferrero didn't possess the enhanced strength, speed, and durability that came with his Dueling Talent.

Any injury he received – even a minor one – could be utterly lethal.

'The man is clearly mad...fortunately,' Ciro thought, grinning with relief. 'I was concerned that he harbored a secret Puppet weapon, but this is nothing to worry over. They can hardly reproduce his particular brand of lunacy. Moreover, with Nayt's newfound knowledge, he should overwhelm the Puppet in short order.'

That wasn't all. Before even Nayt himself noticed, Ciro witnessed a change take place inside of his mind. The sheer respect he felt for the duelist had now evolved to the point where he no longer cared whether his opponent was human, elf, puppet or monster – Ferrero was alive.

Which meant the elf's Talent of Hanging was working again.

During their last exchange, the heat of battle had caused Nayt's flames to unconsciously jump forth and touch the Puppet's arms. They were larger and more uncontrolled than the stealthy flame from before, yet this too was a blessing of the Goddess of Luck.

'Changing what you consider to be 'alive' is impressive,' Ciro thought, grinning. 'Even I would have trouble doing something like that so quickly. Your flames of death might be weaker now than usual, but if they are already this large, then it should be more than enough to kill this damned Puppet!'

However...

Nayt was displeased.

His gaze was cast downward, and his fists shook with anger. "Dances such as ours were not meant to end like this, Puppet." The elf's voice was filled with melancholy and regret. "But...this is the end. You've proven your worth – and thus, as a Hangman, I must bring you death."

The Talent-conjured flames on Ferrero's arm shrunk. When they vanished, his life would vanish with them. Bit by bit, they grew smaller, nearly dissipating...

Until suddenly, a strange liquid touched them. The substance had shot out from within his sword hilt. Nayt's flames immediately ignited, burning wilder than ever before on the Puppet's arm.

It took a moment for the Hangman to understand what that liquid was. When he did, the realization came as perhaps the greatest shock of the day yet.

"Oil," Nayt muttered in disbelief. "You...you had oil prepared to keep my flames alight."

The elf's dumbstruck eyes were drawn to the roaring flames. "But if you're turning off your Talent when attacking, that – that has hurt an unbelievable amount!"

"Aye, it did, and it does, and it will still." Ferrero laughed through the pain nonetheless. "Yet losing this duel would feel far ...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1ftyhhg/the_skill_thiefs_canvas_chapter_52/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/DestroyatronMk8 on 2024-10-02 01:16:49+00:00.

---

First | Previous

The Enlightened did nothing further as the jumpdrive charged. The Gate effect wrapped itself around the Dream of the Lady. Captain Yvian felt herself relax just a little.

"Well that was freaky," quipped Lissa. "Maybe we shouldn't have stayed to watch after all."

"It's better to know what we're dealing with," argued Mims.

"Is it?" Lissa shook her head. "Cause I'm not sure I wanted to know."

The next sector was a warzone. Millions of ships, fighting millions of Enlightened. The sector didn't have any habitable planets, but it was filled with space stations. Mines and manufacturing, mostly. Yvian guessed she was on the far edge of the nation's territory.

The biomechanical invaders took a variety of shapes and sizes. Some were in the shape of two meter tall pixenoids. Some were great ships over four kilometers long. The ships were mostly engine, and moved at ten times the acceleration the Dream of the Lady could manage. Other shapes Yvian could only guess at, but all bore the distinctive pixelated construction and winding circuitry of the Enlightened.

The defenders were not fairing well. Their weapons had little to no effect on the Enlightened, and their ships were being disabled by single shots from the invader cannons. Disabled, but not destroyed. The Enlightened were going from ship to ship and from station to station, infecting everything they touched.

The nearest fight was happening six hundred thousand kilometers away. Thirty Enlightened were in the process of infecting a thousand disabled battlecruisers. All but one of the monsters morphed into their ship forms the moment the Dream entered the sector. They embarked on an intercept course with a quickness that made Yvian's butt clench.

"Jumpdrive, now!" Yvian ordered.

"Aye Captain." Lissa started to type into her Nav console. She paused. "Maybe we should go back," she suggested. "We could take the West Gate from that Space Fish sector."

"It probably leads to Enlightened space," said Yvian. "Our best bet is to get through while they're busy." Lissa nodded. The Jumpdrive hummed. Yvian shook her head. An entire sector was being destroyed before her eyes. Probably an entire species with it. "I wish there was something we could do."

"The void is a dangerous place," said Mims. "Not everyone can be saved." He let out a slow breath through his nose. The human's body shifted and... relaxed? The sight sent a jolt of adrenaline up Yvian's legs. Mims was forcing the tension out of his muscles. Centering himself with perfect focus. She'd seen him do that a few times. Only when he was on the verge of immediate, terrible violence. Or when he expected things to go very, very wrong. "Sometimes surviving is the best we can do."

The next sector was the same. Ships and stations being disabled and absorbed by unstoppable techno-organic monsters. This time there were already Enlightened in ship form hurtling towards the Gate. Towards all the Gates.

"Shit, jumpdrive!" Yvian ordered. Lissa didn't waste time acknowledging the order. The ship hummed once more.

"They are hunting us," Scarrend growled. "Arrogant fools. Permission to arm the Cascade Annihilator, Captain? I would show these Enlightened who stands at the Apex."

"Do it," said Yvian. Eighty three Enlightened were closing, but they were still three hundred thousand kilometers away. The Dream would be gone before they entered weapon range. The ones in the next sector might be closer.

"Whatever we do," said Mims, "we can't let them take the ship."

"Crunch." Mims was right. The Enlightened weren't killing. They were converting. What had the one said? Their technology would fuel the Great Change? If the motherless sons took the Dream they'd get jumpdrives of their own, along with the Nav data for everywhere Yvian had been. The Technocracy could be overrun with biomechanical giants within hours.

The Gate Effect took hold. Yvian had thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to make a plan. She didn't know how many sectors they'd have to go through to get past the Enlightened, but she'd be very surprised if they made it out without a fight. Crunch. If she screwed this up everyone was going to die. Not just Yvian and her crew. Everyone.

Yvian closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, forcing her muscles to relax. Face, then neck, then shoulders, all the way down until their was barely enough tension in her body to keep herself upright. Another breath, lots of air. She focused on her heartbeat. It was hammering in her chest. She focused harder, breathing again, slowing it down. The human had gone to great lengths to teach her how to use her breath to control her body, to exert emotional control. Yvian had thought it a neat trick, but mostly she'd just used it when she had trouble sleeping. Only now did she understand its true purpose. To make her ready. A harmony of mind and body that would let her act and think with perfect focus, no matter what.

Yvian's eyes snapped open. They would be out of the Gate in sixteen seconds. Yvian didn't have a real plan. Plans were for people that knew what the Crunch they were dealing with. What Yvian did have was a crew. A crew with strengths she could play into. She rattled off orders. She didn't rush, aiming for efficiency. Slow was smooth. Smooth was fast.

"Kilroy, you're on flight control." The Peacekeeper unit's reaction time was by far the fastest, even outstripping the Vrrl. "Don't let them hit us."

"Mims, jumpdrive." Activating the drive at the wrong time would kill them. The human had the best judgment for that sort of thing.

"Scarrend, weapons." The Vrrl growled with approval.

"Lissa, you're on the Dead Man's Switch."

"Crunch," Yvian's sister swore. The Dead Man's Switch was a failsafe. A final contingency in case they encountered the Vore. A mix of high yield plasma, ion, and nuclear explosives had been strategically placed throughout the ship. The detonators were hardwired to the consoles on the bridge. Lissa flipped a switch on her console. A big red button revealed itself. Lissa pressed it, and kept it depressed.

If Lissa removed her hand, the Dream would detonate. If the ship lost power, the Dream would detonate. If any of the wires leading to the explosives were severed, the Dream would detonate. The explosions would turn the jumpdrive, Nexus Nodes, and computers to ionized plasma. They would also set off the Dream's missile complement. There wouldn't be enough left of the ship to be considered debris. Just an irradiated cloud of rapidly expanding metal vapors.

The next two sectors passed quickly. The Enlightened were still moving for the Gates, but they weren't close enough to be a threat. Yvian allowed herself a small hope that they might push through.

The third sector had a single Enlightened near the Gate. A big one. It was in ship form, three kilometers in length. It was thirty thousand kilometers away, and coming in fast.

"Jumpdrive!" Yvian ordered.

"They're too close," Mims told her. "We need cover."

Cover? Where the Crunch would they find cover in the... Oh. "Kilroy, get us behind the Gate!"

"Affirmative." Yvian noticed the Dream was already heading for the edge of the Gate. Kilroy had either anticipated the order or decided not to wait for instruction. Yvian wasn't going to complain. Mims hadn't been exaggerating when he said she had the best crew.

The Enlightened morphed. It was still in ship form, but a two and half kilometer long cannon assembled itself at the top of the thing. The cannon fired. A line of pink blinding light streaked towards the Dream. Kilroy maneuvered them out of its way, but it was close. Ronin battlecruisers were nimble compared to other ships of their class, but the Dream was still a capital ship. It was a big target, and nowhere near as maneuverable as a fighter.

The enemy fired again. And again. A six kilometer long bar of energy lashed towards Yvian's ship every second. Kilroy's ridiculous reflexes let him keep evading the fire, but it wouldn't last. The Enlightened was getting closer, and soon its weapon would be too close to dodge.

"Scarrend, hit them." The guns of the poor souls the Enlightened attacked hadn't done much. Yvian hoped the Dream could do better. "Anything you can do to slow them down."

"With pleasure," growled the Vrrl. Four beam cannons lashed out from the Dream. Beam cannons weren't light speed weapons, but they were the next best thing. The beams struck the Enlightened's engines. Photon Pulse Cannons unleashed a torrent of glowing death as well, angled for an intercept course. They would take over a minute to reach the enemy, and would only hit that fast because the Enlightened was barreling towards them at prodigious speed.

The beam cannons did nothing. A closer look at the sensors told Yvian two things. The Enlightened weren't using shields, and the Enlightened didn't need fucking shields. The motherless son was absorbing the energy of the cannons. "MAC Driver?"

"MAC Cannons," Scarrend corrected. "And they're out of range." Yvian cursed to herself. MAC Drivers were mounted on fighter class ships. The Dream had Cannons. She kept forgetting that. Both weapons used the same ammunition, but MAC Cannons launched the rounds at thirty kilometers a second instead of ten....

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1fu4i7y/the_privateer_chapter_183_the_enlightened/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Sensitive_Taste8785 on 2024-10-02 00:26:18+00:00.

---

The Gunniest Gun

The two alien warships drifted silently through the void, their sleek, angular forms bristling with energy weapons and defensive arrays. Captain Ry’Shal of the K’Tari Dominion fleet peered intently at the object on their sensors, his furred brow wrinkling in confusion.

“What… is that?” he murmured, pointing a clawed finger at the screen. His second-in-command, Sub-Commander Ver’Tash, leaned closer, eyes widening in disbelief.

“It appears to be… a ship, sir. A large one, but…” Ver’Tash trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.

“Primitive,” Captain Ry’Shal completed, his voice dripping with disdain. “That thing looks like a cargo container with engines slapped on the back. It’s just a massive rectangular block!”

Indeed, the object before them was a monstrosity of the most uninspired design. A perfect, rectangular block nearly a kilometer in length and a hundred meters wide and tall. It had no visible weapons, no discernible energy signature, and only a few sparse details to differentiate it from a giant space-borne brick. The only distinguishing feature was a small hole at the front—barely ten meters in diameter—set deep within a recessed port. The rest of the ship seemed to be nothing but thick layers of armor.

“Are we certain this is a ship?” Ver’Tash asked, his tone skeptical. “It could be… some kind of automated mining platform. Or perhaps a derelict?”

“I don’t care what it is,” Ry’Shal scoffed. “It’s blocking our path to the nebula. Open a channel. Let’s see if anyone’s foolish enough to answer.”

A few moments later, the screen on the bridge of the K’Tari vessel flickered to life. A human male appeared, seated in a cockpit surrounded by complex instrumentation. The man was dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, his hair slicked back, and his gaze was as sharp as a drawn blade. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the K’Tari crew.

“This is Captain Julius Markov of the Gungnir. I don’t recognize your ship signatures, so I’ll go ahead and assume you’re just passing through. Why don’t you move along?”

Ver’Tash snorted in derision, his lip curling back to reveal sharp teeth. “Captain Markov, is it? Do you even realize what you’re piloting? That’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen derelicts in better condition than that eyesore.”

“Yeah,” another K’Tari officer chimed in. “It’s a giant metal block! You know we can punch through something like that in a heartbeat, right? I bet it’s just filled with outdated mechanical systems. How do you even see where you’re going, human? You got a periscope?”

Julius’s expression darkened instantly. He stared at the screen for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and fixed the K’Tari officers with a look of absolute disdain.

“Excuse me?” he hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Are you mocking my ship?”

Ry’Shal exchanged an amused glance with Ver’Tash. “Mocking? Oh, I think we’re being generous! That ship of yours is a joke. You’ve got nothing but raw metal and a tiny hole up front. You look like you’re driving a glorified battering ram.”

Julius’s face flushed red, and he gripped the armrests of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Gungnir,” he said slowly, “is a masterpiece of human engineering. There’s nothing like it in the entire galaxy. She’s sleek, she’s powerful, and she’s the embodiment of pure, unrelenting force.”

“Powerful?” Ver’Tash laughed. “You’re a kilometer-long brick! There’s no elegance, no design finesse. Look at us—two K’Tari cruisers bristling with advanced energy weapons and top-of-the-line shields. And you? You’re just a giant, armored turd floating through space.”

“Ah,” Julius murmured softly, his eyes narrowing. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. You don’t understand true power. You see that tiny hole up front?”

“Yes,” Ry’Shal said slowly, his ears twitching in amusement. “What is that? Some kind of archaic projectile launcher? Or is it just for show?”

Julius’s lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile. “I call it ‘The flash before God.’ And you’re about to find out why.”

Before the K’Tari could respond, alarms flared across the bridge of their flagship. Energy readings spiked from the Gungnir, and a hum like the roar of a distant storm filled their sensors.

“Captain, they’re powering up some kind of—”

The words were cut off as a single, blinding beam of light erupted from the Gungnir’s front port. The railgun—concealed beneath almost fifty meters of reinforced armor—fired with a deafening crack that reverberated through the void. The projectile, a solid tungsten rod the size of a small building, accelerated to a significant fraction of the speed of light.

The K’Tari cruiser in its path had no time to react. Their shields, optimized for energy-based weapons and plasma bolts, flared uselessly as the kinetic slug tore through them like tissue paper. The projectile hit the ship’s core, and the entire vessel disintegrated in an instant—broken apart by the sheer force of the impact.

Where the cruiser had once been, there was now only a cloud of debris and a rapidly expanding field of superheated gas.

Ry’Shal stared at the display, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened. One shot. A single shot, and his cruiser was gone.

“Impossible…” he whispered. “How… how did they—”

“Gunnery control,” Julius said softly, his smile widening into a grin that would have sent chills down the spines of any human who saw it. “Prepare another round. Spin up the railgun. Let’s see if our guests want a second helping.”

“Admiral, we have to retreat!” Ver’Tash shouted, his voice frantic. “Their weapon—”

“Not yet,” Ry’Shal growled. He glared at Julius, his eyes blazing with fury. “You think you can scare us off with one lucky shot? We have shields. We have weapons that will tear that ugly heap of metal apart! You won’t—”

“Fire.”

The Gungnir fired again. This time, Ry’Shal watched in horrified disbelief as the projectile exited the railgun. He could see it, moving impossibly fast—blazing toward his ship. There was no time to react, no time to issue orders.

The projectile hit the K’Tari flagship at the juncture of its central and forward compartments. The force of the impact split the ship in two, sending its shattered remains spiraling off into space. Explosions rippled along the hull, igniting fuel reserves and power cells in a cascade of brilliant fireballs.

Ver’Tash screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the ship’s alarms and the howling of the atmosphere venting into the vacuum.

“Retreat!” Ry’Shal shouted. “All ships, retreat! Get us out of here—”

But it was too late. The surviving K’Tari cruiser’s engines flared to life, and the ship spun away from the Gungnir, its crew desperate to escape. Julius watched calmly as the alien ship fled, his expression serene.

“Let them go,” he murmured, cutting the comm channel. “They’ll spread the word.”

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his perfectly combed hair. The Gungnir was as steady as a rock, the railgun quietly cooling in its armored housing. Julius allowed himself a small smile.

“Primitive, huh?” he muttered to himself. “We’ll see who’s primitive.”

He swiveled his chair, admiring the view of the now-empty system. The Gungnir’s polished, reinforced armor gleamed under the distant starlight. To him, it was a masterpiece. A testament to humanity’s enduring craftsmanship and its understanding of one simple truth:

Sometimes, all you really need… is the biggest damn gun in the universe.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Sensitive_Taste8785 on 2024-10-01 23:31:33+00:00.

---

Gun's gun's gun's

The Encounter

“The primitive are often unaware of their place in the cosmos, choosing to overcompensate with raw size and bulk. These inferior civilizations build monstrous machines because they lack finesse, technology, and sophistication. Today, we shall demonstrate the superiority of true engineering,” Admiral Xa’kir thought as he observed the massive, ugly vessel drifting silently in the emptiness of the unclaimed system.

He stood on the bridge of the Raxinar, the flagship of the Threxian Expeditionary Fleet, his insectoid frame poised and tense. His segmented eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the foreign ship on the view screen. The vessel was unlike anything he had ever seen before in his 250 years of service.

It was enormous—nearly a kilometer long—but grotesquely shaped, with angular hull plates and protruding structures that served no apparent purpose. The surface of the ship was studded with bizarre, cylindrical objects, like ancient relics mounted as trophies. The ship’s hull was a patchwork of various materials, covered in what seemed to be gaudy decals and obscure symbols.

“What a hideous beast,” murmured Sub-Commander Tra’nak, standing at the Admiral’s side. “Look at that armor plating… they must not even have energy shielding. Why else would they build such a bulky monstrosity? Probably compensating for their lack of proper defenses.”

“Indeed,” Admiral Xa’kir agreed. “These creatures are clearly primitive. Their civilization hasn’t yet grasped the fundamentals of advanced energy weaponry or proper shielding. They compensate with physical bulk—relying on raw mass to weather the harshness of space.”

“Pathetic,” scoffed another officer. “They must not even understand basic plasma weaponry. Do they think they’re going to smash through an enemy fleet with kinetic rounds and heavy metal?”

Admiral Xa’kir glanced at the tactical display. The unknown ship had no discernible energy signatures, no telltale emissions of shielding or advanced weapons. If anything, it seemed to be a relic from some forgotten past—a clunky throwback to an era of space warfare long rendered obsolete.

“Let’s put an end to this charade,” Xa’kir commanded. “Open a channel and prepare our weapons. This system is marked for annexation by the Threxian Dominion, and these primitives will learn to respect our claim.”

The communications officer initiated the broadcast. “Attention, unidentified vessel. This is Admiral Xa’kir of the Threxian Expeditionary Fleet. You are trespassing in a system designated for Threxian expansion. Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded, or be destroyed.”

There was a long silence, then the screen crackled to life. A human appeared—humanoid, fleshy, and smiling broadly. The being’s hair was long and scraggly, with a worn hat perched precariously atop its head. It looked utterly unconcerned.

“Howdy there!” the human bellowed, his voice crackling through the speaker. “This here’s the Indomitable, and I’m Captain Billy Jo. I’m here with my brother Sammy Ray, and we’re laying claim to this system in the name of…” The human paused and looked at someone off-screen. “Who’re we layin’ claim for, Sammy?”

“Aw, hell, Billy Jo. We’re layin’ claim for us! Ain’t nobody else got dibs on it!” came another voice from somewhere off-screen.

“That’s right!” Billy Jo returned to the comm, grinning widely. “We’re layin’ claim for the Jo brothers. Now, why don’t y’all just skedaddle back to wherever y’all came from and leave us in peace?”

Admiral Xa’kir’s mandibles twitched in annoyance. These creatures were worse than he had anticipated—utterly delusional and lacking any sense of propriety. He suppressed a sigh of frustration and responded, “Your presence here is a violation of Threxian law. You will power down your engines and submit to our authority, or we will be forced to—”

Before he could finish, the Indomitable suddenly rotated on its axis, bringing a row of those bizarre cylindrical objects into view. One by one, the objects began to extend outward like some sort of mechanical appendage.

“Are they… is that…?” Tra’nak squinted, his compound eyes widening in disbelief.

“Are they preparing to… fire?” another officer stammered.

“Ridiculous. There’s no energy buildup, no plasma charge—”

But then it happened.

A flash of light burst from one of the cylinders, followed by another, and another. In rapid succession, dozens of projectiles launched from the primitive tubes, each trailing a plume of ignited propellant. The shells, forged from dense alloys and accelerated by massive charges, streaked through the void and slammed into the nearest Threxian cruiser.

The cruiser’s shields flared for a moment, but the energy fields—designed to repel directed-energy weapons and plasma bolts—shattered like glass under the sheer kinetic impact of the projectiles. The shells punched through the hull, tearing the ship apart in a series of thunderous explosions.

“By the stars!” Admiral Xa’kir shouted. “Evasive maneuvers!”

The Threxian fleet scrambled, but the Indomitable continued to spin, each of its mounted tubes firing in sequence. It was a spectacle to behold—the ship seemed to be rotating like some kind of colossal gatling gun, unleashing a continuous barrage of high-velocity projectiles. As the ship spun, it cycled its guns, allowing some to reload while others fired, maintaining a relentless rate of fire.

The second and third Threxian cruisers were ripped apart in moments. The projectiles, massive hunks of metal designed to mimic the long-extinct Earth naval artillery, were far more effective than they appeared. Each shot was a work of destructive art, shattering shields and hulls alike.

“Report!” Xa’kir shouted, his voice frantic. “How are they doing this? What kind of—”

“Admiral, their projectiles are purely kinetic! Our shields aren’t designed to handle impacts at this velocity! They’re bypassing our defenses!”

“Impossible! They don’t have the energy capacity for sustained fire—”

“They’re reloading using some sort of mechanical system. There’s no energy drain at all!”

Admiral Xa’kir watched in horror as the Indomitable continued its brutal onslaught. The ship was a behemoth, its armor plates thick and cumbersome, but its attacks were devastating. The Threxian vessels, sleek and graceful, crumbled under the relentless kinetic bombardment.

“Deploy fighters! Target their… whatever those things are!” Xa’kir ordered, desperation seeping into his voice.

Swarms of Threxian fighters launched from the remaining ships, streaking toward the human vessel. But as they approached, the Indomitable shifted, revealing a massive structure hidden in the center of the hull.

“What… what is that?” Tra’nak whispered, his voice trembling.

The structure was a railgun—an absolutely colossal one, dwarfing even the largest energy weapons the Threxians had ever encountered. The electromagnetic coils along its length crackled and hummed as the railgun began to charge.

“Admiral, we need to retreat!” an officer screamed. “Their weapons—”

The railgun fired. A single, enormous projectile, larger than any of the previous ones, shot out of the railgun at incredible speed. It tore through space like a lance of vengeance, striking the Raxinar dead center. The kinetic energy alone was enough to vaporize the flagship’s forward compartments. The ship buckled and imploded, its hull twisting and contorting before detonating in a blinding flash of light.

Silence reigned on the bridge of the remaining Threxian vessels.

Admiral Xa’kir’s ship—the pride of the Threxian fleet—had been obliterated in a single shot.

“Message from the enemy ship, sir,” a trembling communications officer reported.

The screen crackled back to life, and the human brothers appeared once more, their grins as wide as ever.

“Now, look here,” Billy Jo drawled, leaning closer to the screen. “We ain’t got no beef with y’all, but y’all came barkin’ up the wrong tree. We ain’t lookin’ for trouble, but if y’all want more of what you just got, we got plenty to go around.”

“Tell ’em about the big gun, Billy Jo!” Sammy Ray chimed in from somewhere off-screen.

Billy Jo rolled his eyes. “They already saw the big gun, Sammy. Don’t need to brag about it.”

“But you said—”

“Sammy, hush now.”

The brothers exchanged a few more words, then turned their attention back to the camera.

“We’re just a couple of good ol’ boys from Florida,” Billy Jo continued, his tone suddenly friendly. “We built this ship ourselves, right in our garage, and we just wanna settle down somewhere quiet. So how ’bout y’all just turn around and leave us be, huh?”

The Threxian fleet, or what was left of it, didn’t need further encouragement. Engines roared to life as the remaining ships turned and fled, leaving the Indomitable to drift lazily through the void.

As the last Threxian vessel vanished from sensors, Billy Jo leaned back in his chair and chuckled.

“Well, that was fun.”

Sammy Ray’s head popped into view. “Think they’ll be back?”

“Nah,” Billy Jo said, grinning. “Next time, they’ll know better.”

And with that, the brothers returned to their business—staking their claim on an empty star system far from home, just a pair of gun enthusiasts living out their dream of peace and quiet in the cosmos.

Because out here, there were no rules. Just a couple of old Floridian brothers, their ship full of guns, and an entire galaxy to explore.

(This was a stand alone story. thanx to safary-cat for words of inspiration to this story)

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Bloodytearsofrage on 2024-10-01 23:24:04+00:00.

---

(Synopsis: Mercenary spacer Ophelia 'Opie' Walczak is in a bad mood and just wants to be left alone for a while. She meets a little girl on the run in a town with a dark secret. Opie's bad mood is about to become everybody's problem.)

(Note: this story is part of the Captain Hargrenn series, but can be read on its own.)

previous

******

"Kid! What are--?" I killed that idiotic question before it could fully form, since it was obvious what she was doing. "Get back here before you catch a blaster bolt!"

But Harmony did nothing of the sort. She just calmly strode over to the doorway. "If they want me alive, they won't shoot," she stated. There was just enough of a quiver in her voice to show that she understood the risk. This wasn't just stupid teenage bravado. "And if they do shoot me, then Mr. Stejni doesn't get me, right? That makes him and that woman not win. Isn't that what you've been talking about?"

It was, sure enough. But to talk that shit was one thing. To see the kid actually skating the edge of getting killed while I was still in a position to do something about it was something else. But I couldn't argue with her. She was exactly right. All I could do was hold my breath, maybe take a gulp of Dutch courage, and be ready to start laying waste to every fucking thing in sight if a blaster bolt came at her.

It didn't, though. As the voice kept squawking for us to respond, Harmony ran shaky and obviously squeamish hands over the dead Gonhir policewoman's body until she found the source of the noise, the communicator clipped to her uniform collar. She made the trip back on shivering legs, but back stiff and erect, forcing herself not to run. She was holding the comm between two fingers and away from her. Drying flecks of purplish Gonhir blood were stuck to it.

Taking it from her, I found the controls and switched it to 'receive video/transmit audio only' mode. I wanted to get a look at who I was talking to, but had no intention of giving them the same courtesy. Never miss a chance to limit how much information the enemy can glean about you -- more basic mercenary tradecraft. Taking care to set the holocomm where I could still watch out the window beyond it, I finally keyed the thing up.

"--calling the occupants of the Bayview Cafe," the image was saying. "We know you have the fucking holocomm, so please respond!" The speaker was a Dahu guy in late middle-age, head-wool streaked with white and worry-lines in the lemon-yellow flesh around his eye. His uniform was rumpled and he looked like he needed a nap.

"We hear you," I replied. "If you've got anything to say worth hearing, get on with it."

The Colonial cop jerked like I'd goosed him, but recovered quickly enough. "This is Chief Stamvra of the Serenity Island Colonial Police," he said, calmly, but with a little throb of well-repressed rage sharpening his words. "Whom am I addressing?"

I wasn't giving this shitweed my name or any other useful info if I could help it. "This is the officer commanding the defenses of Fort Skurwysyn." I picked out one of the nastier epithets from my native language, because pedo-town didn't deserve anything dignified. "You can call me ma'am."

Stamvra clenched his jaw, but soldiered on in his Mr. Reasonable persona. "We are prepared to hear out your demands," he said.

It was a good thing I'd disabled video transmission, because I know my face must have looked pretty stupid right then. I glanced at Harmony, but all she could do was shrug.

"This is your chance to negotiate," Stamvra added when I didn't immediately respond. "We'd like to get the innocents out of this situation."

"I wasn't aware that there were innocents on your side of this situation," I shot back. Truly, after the media response, I was beginning to doubt that there were any innocents in this town -- not adult ones, anyway. Maybe not on the whole damned planet.

"There are civilians trapped in the shops down the road from you." Stamvra must have been as much politician as cop, because he managed to sound almost believably concerned about them. "They can't leave because of your gunfire. What about them?"

I shrugged, then remembered that I had the video off and he couldn't see that. "If they want to leave, they're welcome to do it. As long as they go peaceably. If anybody takes a shot at us -- civvie, cop, or anybody else -- while those people are out on the street, I'm dropping every motherfucker I see. But if they go quietly and you don't do anything stupid, I've got no problem with it."

"If you mean that, we'll arrange something in a few minutes, then." For some reason, Chief Stamvra didn't look relieved by that at all. I felt like he should have, but if anything, our agreement seemed to ratchet up the tension in him by a notch or two. "I'll, uh, alert you when the civilians are prepared to move. I'm taking your word that you won't fire upon them." He glanced at someone out-of-view. "Now, about your hostage..."

"What hostage?"

"The ch--" The cop chief stopped himself from saying the word. "The... Arcadian individual you took from the Stejni Group."

"The child, you mean? The little girl that ran away from Pedophile Central? That Arcadian?"

"Legally, she is not a child," Stamvra said stifflly. "She is a biological product. A legally-purchased import."

"Like livestock, you mean?" I was getting legit personally angry at this bastard now. "In your eyes, a little girl is on par with a goat or an omniboar? Except that can't be right, because I'll bet you assholes arrest people for raping their farm animals! So this kid is even less than an animal to you!"

"Don't you get self-righteous with me, you murdering bitch," he snarled back at me. "It was you Humans who decided she isn't a person! You! Her own people! We're just following the laws of her native Human planet!"

Had Chief Stamvra been in front of me right then, I'd have shot him right in the head. Straight up, no warning. Just pow, dead. "Did you just call me an Arcadian, you yellow fuck?" I growled. "By God, I have killed better people for less than that!"

He seemed to realize he'd gone too far with that. He reined himself in with a visible effort, the veins pulsing in his single huge eye. "Wait," he grated out through clenched teeth as he held up his hands. "Let's all... keep our tempers, here. Let's not let these talks stall out."

"I don't see what we've got to talk about," I snapped, ice-cold. "Our only interaction needs to be across the sights of a rifle."

"No, wait. Please." There was another of those glances to the side, like he was looking for support or reassurance. "We really do need to talk."

"About what?"

"Th-the Arcadian," he stammered. "If you could be compelled to let her go..."

I rolled my eyes. This obtuseness was getting tiresome fast. "I'm not holding her captive, asshole, and you know it. I'm protecting her from you."

That huge eye narrowed at me. "Is that what you think you're doing? Is that why you're killing good cops? Because you've got some kind of hero complex?" He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Seriously, how do you think this ends? You're fighting a whole city, a whole planet! Sooner or later, we take you down and Mr. Stejni's property is returned to him, no matter what you do. The only way this plays out for you is death or a prison cell!"

"Wow," I said as sarcastically as I could manage. "You should write that down, put it in a folder, and file it under 'shit I already know'. It's not about winning. It's about me making this as miserable and bloody for you as I possibly can." This Stamvra guy wasn't really cut out to be a negotiator. He kept alternating between riling me up and trying to cool me back down. He should really focus on one or the other.

"Those were good cops you murdered," he snarled. "Any one of them was worth more than you or all the disposable offworld whores put together!"

Ah. Now I knew where the Zharg bailiff from earlier had gotten his outlook.

"Those were men and women with families, damn it. They had children."

I sneered, although he couldn't see it. "If they're the kind of people who call children 'disposable whores' and hand them over to child molesters, then their families are better off without them."

"They were public servants, guardians of the law! They laid down their lives for--"

"They died to protect a rich shitpail's ability to rape kids and you know it." I barked out a nasty, scorn-laden laugh. "You could end this quick by laying on the firepower or gassing us or burning us out. But you can't do that, because that would risk damaging Mr. Stejni's precious, expensive toy, right? So you have to do this the hard way, the way that gives me a chance to jack up the body count, because you can't piss off your unofficial boss. So tell me, Chief Stamvra, how does it feel to work for somebody who values your people's lives less than his own disgusting pleasures?"

He glanced at the out-of-shot person again, but glaring a bit this time. Through gritted teeth, he told me, "Mr. Stejni does a lot of good for this planet. He is a vital pillar of our nation and economy."

"Your nation is built on the principle of keeping fucking child molesters happy, huh? Anybody who actually deserv...

---

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Lanzen_Jars on 2024-10-01 22:06:24+00:00.

---

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

Chapter 187 – Bet it all on red

Six feline ears all twitched as they turned quiet for a moment, listening to the ongoing argument happening just outside their door that had progressively crescendoed into straight up yelling over the last few minutes.

“You aren't going to prevent us from protecting ourselves!” the barking chatter of a party they had so far only heard and not seen rang out. Tiasonko, by the sound of them. The voice of the lumbering primates with four awkward arms were quite distinctive, even among the many species of the galaxy. “We know that the favorite meal of those felines is primate meat. And since there are no defenseless beasts for them to gut alive on this station, we are not going to wait until they finally drop their masks and try to get their fix some other way. The primates of this station will-!”

“Sir, we humans are primates as well,” a far calmer yet still firm voice interrupted the rant abruptly as one of the soldiers guarding the door rained on his parade. “I assure you none of us have any worry about the myiat taking a bite out of us.”

“Primates? Hardly!” the ranting voice almost immediately piped back up again. “You're a hairless bunch of flesh-eating freaks! You look a lot more like those monsters to me than you resemble any of us!”

“There is no reason to get insulting, Sir,” the voice of the human soldier replied again, still as professional as it was stern.

“Or what?!” the tiasonko challenged. “Will you shut me up? Put me in my place? What are you going to do, predator? Looking for a fitting excuse to butcher me?”

Inside of the room, one of the felines scoffed.

“They always make it sound like they would enjoy that somehow,” Zishedii commented in Cyamoit. His comment gained some exhausted twitches of lip-corners that never quite morphed into full on smiles from his company.

“No, but I will call the local authorities on you if you don't curb your aggression,” the human replied unflinching as a rock.

“Call the guards on me because I am telling the truth!?” the yelling person called out in an almost smug and victorious voice, earning him loud chatters from the unseen comrades presumably backing him up. It seemed like he really thought he had some sort of high-ground there.

“Call the guards on you because you are openly threatening violence against an Acting-Councilman,” the human replied dryly.

“Tssss...a Councilman. Sure,” the boisterous primate responded with clear sarcasm and disdain. “I don't accept that bloodthirsty creature as one of our leaders. It doesn't have the same-”

“Have fun explaining that to law-enforcement,” the human interrupted yet again. “I'm sure they would love to hear why you think that you only have to follow the rules that you 'accept'.”

The smug chatter suddenly died down a bit. If Shida had to guess, she figured the human had actually pulled out his phone to make the call now.

“I-” the tiasonko tried to speak up again. His voice carried far less of the earlier smugness now, even if he still tried to keep that fire burning.

“I will be sending them pictures of you as well as detailed recordings of everything you said,” the human cut him off immediately. “Hope the clicks are worth the criminal record, jackass.”

Judging by that last comment, there were probably more cameras than just the soldiers' body-cams involved.

There was more chattering now, though this time it was entirely in the tiasonko's own language that no one in the vicinity understood apart from the primates themselves. It sounded stressed though.

Then, a moment later, the voices quickly began to become more quiet as the sound of awkward running filled the air, which the felines' fine hearing perfectly picked up on despite it being muffled by the door.

“Oh, now that it's too late, they run,” Commander Jireynora commented with an annoyed roll of her eyes. She let out a deep mixture between a sigh and a hiss as her shoulders sank slightly and her ears lay flat down onto her head. “Honestly, I am starting to wonder if I should hate evolution for making our main prey primates. I mean, of all the things it could have been...”

“Don't let them get to you,” Zishedii replied in a firm voice almost instantly. “If you say things like that, you make it seem like we actually did something wrong. Our ancestors were animals, hunting other animals. It happens on every planet there is. It is part of nature and it has been around almost since nature began. Don't just let them build this narrative that it is somehow something new and scary.”

Jireynora nodded hesitantly. However, Shida crossed her arms and released an annoyed growl.

“Well, we can't pretend like we haven't been allowing that for quite a while,” she said under her breath. The comment sounded generally annoyed at the world, however in reality it was largely directed at herself.

Once upon a time, she had been quite guilty of very much feeding into the stereotype, after all.

“Hmm...” Jireynora huffed and briefly rubbed her hands over her ears in order to calm herself a bit. Once her ears had perked back up, she let out another sigh. “Well, at least they left before the Ambassador came.”

Zishedii released an amused snicker at that.

“I'm sure he would have torn them a new one,” he commented before running a hand along the long part of his hair. “They sure are getting loud, though...”

“Spurred on by an old idiot who should have gone to jail ages ago,” Shida growled again, her crossed arms tightening around her body a bit more. “Maybe we're lucky and he'll give himself an aneurysm before the election goes through.”

Zishedii and Jireynora both gave a single, only slightly restrained laugh.

“You should be careful with saying things like that too loudly,” Zishedii advised, but Shida quickly shook her head.

“They can have me on record saying that,” she proclaimed confidently. “I don't think violence should be involved, but we would all be better off if he worked himself up enough to just keel over.”

Zishedii shifted his lips slightly, his tail giving a gentle sway.

“I'm going to have to ask you to not talk about one of my colleagues like that,” he then stated in a firm voice, though the way he put emphasis on 'have' indicated that it was very much something he felt compelled to do instead of something he did out of conviction.

“Hopefully he won't be one of your colleagues for long anymore,” Shida gave back to that, her own tail also swaying, but far more agitated than that of the Acting-Councilman. So much so, in fact, that the Commander tilted her head slightly.

“Are you alright, Shida?” Jireynora asked, her voice pivoting gently into hesitant worry.

Shida released a sharp breath through her teeth and un-knotted her arms, running her hands up to glide her fingers through her rebellious mane of hair; then tangling them slightly in a mild grip.

“I'm just getting myself worked up now,” she admitted after a moment of introspection. “Guess I should be careful to not give myself that aneurysm I wish upon others.”

Jireynora smiled at the humorous deescalation, though a bit of that earlier worry remained on her face.

“Should we change the topic until James arrives?” she proposed.

However, Shida let go of her hair and waved the idea off.

“I think I need to get my head clear,” she established. “My therapist said I should be using my energy productively whenever it starts building up. I think I'm going to grab some of the boys and meet James halfway.”

Jireynora and Zishedii exchanged a brief glance with each other that ultimately ended with Zishedii giving a mild shrug.

“Alright. Just be careful and make sure to take the escort with you,” Zishedii reminded firmly, as if that wasn't exactly what Shida had just said she was going to do.

Shida gave a hint of an eyeroll but then saluted the Acting-Councilman and Commander before heading out the door.

A group of soldiers to accompany her was quickly gathered, and so it didn't take long before she was heading in the vague direction that she knew James and the others would be coming from. Of course she shot him a quick message informing him of her new plan, but there wasn't much of a reaction apart from an 'alright, be safe'. Then again, what else was he going to say?

Shida quickly had to admit to herself that she probably wouldn't have been happy with any reasonable answer and that she was simply still looking for something to be upset over. At least in regards of recognizing her own behaviors, the therapy had been a great help so far.

When it came to actually doing something about them once she recognized them, well...

She started to breathe more deeply, going through a few breath exercises in hopes to simmer down her growing agitation a bit. It was annoying to have to go through because just the day before, she had been almost perfectly fine for once. Even news that were far worse than a bunch of dipshits coming and yelling obscenities while threatening violence they had no chance of going through with hadn't been able to get a rise out of her then.

But now just thinking about a senile old asshole was enough to get her blood...

---

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2024-10-01 21:17:49+00:00.

---

First

Not Exactly Hidden

“And so?” Daiju asks after Hart’Ghuran’s two hour power study session.

“... It’s clever. It’s also small and the sort of thing that if not found early can be come a big problem, but where the multiple other attacks distractions from this? Was this a distraction from them or was it all just a massive number of attacks with this portion being just one of many prongs?”

“That doesn’t actually answer the question as to what the attack is.”

“It’s in the expiring contracts. Essentially buried in the midst of lists of things that are being allowed to expire are numerous patents and production rights. I need to run some more numbers, but if my initial impression is correct... this could cripple the Ghuran economy.”

“By restricting patents they could open you up to being sued for copy right infringement of all kinds just on simple production and legally demand that you stop all production of a certain product. Get it in enough base products and you can no longer produce them at home, massively increasing cost and in the end...”

“Breaking the economy.”

“Not quite, but it’s a crippling blow that could take decades, if not centuries to fully recover from.” Hart’Ghuran explains before smiling. “The strength and weakness of an attack like this is that it’s not a single blow, it’s many hundreds of tiny cuts. Countering each one takes it’s own effort, and a few small cuts are easily lost in the confusion and panic. But... if they are all accounted for, then each one can be easily countered.”

“You have a defence?”

“Yes, and it needs not a mighty shield or bulwark, but instead a solid suit of chainmail.”

“I did not know that Apuk used chainmail in the past.”

“We didn’t, however I did make a brief study of human military history.”

“How brief?”

“An hour or two of lightly browsing the information plundered from the newest species to bumble into the galaxy.”

“Makes sense. So what’s the plan?”

“I’m going to call a large number of my captains of industry and inform them of the problem and then my answer to it. Tax cuts for anyone who finds a legal patent by another species similar to, if not identical to the ones they’re already using. A higher one for those bold enough to market it as an exotic new change to bring some extra spice to the life of Serbow.”

“If that works your tax intake might go up rather than down even with the cuts.” Daiju notes in an amused tone.

“Exactly. It’s the fun part of the economic section of the game. There’s an actual way to measure success for definitive results, some people spend their whole lives just trying to fully understand it and giving them a bit of your own favour lets you use their expertise with ease.” Hart’Ghuran says with a nod.

“This is going to piss them off.”

“Yes, but I doubt species like yours will care much about the dynastic squabbling of the Apuk. Not to mention there are numerous laws to prevent interference with out species on top of the risks of getting in legal trouble outside of Serbow. Which would be seen as downright disgraceful by the rest.”

“Allowing public perception to shield you from the majorities of counters to your counters.”

“Yes, and no doubt someone will find some kind of counter even with all this, but there’s only so many moves one can plan in advance with any true reliability. The nature of people being what it is makes these games too unpredictable to truly plan things out in such advance. Master plotters that can read a person’s entire history and get an accurate prediction of their future are either doing so in only the broadest terms and with limited at best success or are works of fiction themselves.”

Things are still in motion.”

“Correction. Right now I’m on defence, but I’m watching for a chance of my own.”

“Who’s to say this isn’t a potential retaliation in the making as well? Most strikes in physical combat leave an opponent open if they’re properly countered in some way, what to say these won’t be the same?”

“Likely they are, but without access to knowing just how important these patents are to my rivals I have no way of knowing how vulnerable they’ve made themselves from this. I’ll still be retaliating, but they’ll be swings in the dark. Meaning ones I cannot offer the amount of force I’d like to them. Otherwise I’ll leave myself open.’

“Very good, there’s just one more thing to consider.”

“My children...”

“Your children. Make them part of this. Trust me, it will be worth it.” Daiju offers.

“You think they’re ready for this?”

“Whether they are or not, respecting them and making them part of things will bring them closer to you. Some might never be ready to engage politics at this level. Children are not their parents and have different ambitions, dreams and desires. You might never see eye to eye with them, but if you conceal nothing from them then they will at least know you are honest with them. Let them learn from you.” Daiju says and Hart’Ghuran considers for a few moments then smiles.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

They had been called by their duke. They had been called and they had only entered to find themselves intimidated. Three new heads were atop his manor’s outer wall. Fresh Apuk heads. A small sign denoting them as TRAITORS hung next to them and the blood was still wet.

It didn’t get better passing through. There was small army of Apuk in stasis with a simple sign stating ‘Awaiting Judgment’ next to them.

So going to speak to a nobleman with a tendency to solve things in one of the most definitive ways imaginable was not comfortable. Especially when her business was already...

The door is opened before them and waiting for them in the entrance hall is Hart’Ghuran Duke of Ghuran and... and a man not to be taken lightly. A man surrounded by his young daughters, many of them old enough to be his sisters rather than children.

As she crosses the threshold she is momentarily struck by just how young the feared Duke is. This man should be worried about parties, rumours and whatever silly trouble he can get into and out of. Not leading the economy, security and culture of an entire duchy. Even compared to the humans that emerged from Cruel Space he’s young. Barely an adult by any standard. And yet still in charge, because no one else is left to do it.

He waits for everyone to enter and nods to them all before turning around without a word and leading them all to the room between the main stairs. Inside that is a large meeting hall with table. The sort of thing you would find in any movie about the olden times before first contact where lords and ladies would plot the course of entire nations, where wars were decided.

Neither movies nor business meeting halls could come close to the sheer sensation of history and strength emanating from this old room with older trophies decorating the walls. Broken blades taken from the bodies of enemies, majestic shell armour rent in two by the force of a warrior’s blows. Documents of surrender, captured banners and writs of ownership and trade.

Surrounded by this is a single formal sword, so old it has not the spikes of a traditional warblade, so old it’s size is downright puny as it was earned before the widespread adoption of Axiom Combat. Older than every other trophy. The runed weapon was part of a tradition no longer followed, the thrice gifted blade. A weapon broken over a hated enemy, reforged and gifted to a lord alongside the loyalty of the wielder, who would break it again and then remake it into a symbol of their vaunted nobility.

Few had the power to break a blade over an enemy in those days. Less had the humility to swear to a lord after doing so, and of those rare few that accomplished all that, only a handful survived long enough for their lords to recognize them as truly worthy knights.

It is said that the Ghuran’s Sword was gifted to them when a simple farmer woman lost one of her daughters to a corrupt soldier in her Lady’s Army. She stole one of the soldier’s two swords and killed her with it, breaking the blade against her opponent. Then reforged it and apologized for the damage to the only thing of worth with the soldier. She had been hired as a warrior on the spot and served for thirty years. Then upon her deathbed the daughter of her Lady presented her with the blade remade again and elevated the woman and her daughters to Knighthood. Her grave was still on the family grounds, the family had made a point of keeping track of it.

Most museums struggle to have a gallery half so well stocked or storied.

“Please be seated.” Hart’Ghuran states.

“My Lord? What is this about?”

“We are under attack is what this about. And I am going to show you how it’s being done so that we may repel the blow.”

“Attack? But... if it’s war then why are we here? I’m not a fighter, I run a business, I own steel mills and several chemical plants.”

“Allow me to clarify.” Hart’Ghuran says as he guides his children into their own seats. “We are under economic attack, all of your industries and businesses are being effected and as your Duke it is my duty to aid you in this time of need. There is a problem, and there is a solution I will help you with, if you find my answer insufficient then we will seek out a better one together.”

“The patents?”

“Very well spotted, yes, I can nearly guarantee you that the failure of your business partners to re...

---

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---

First_Previous_

Royal Road_wiki

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Before Mor could get close to the house, Dino came out, looking a bit concerned.

"Clare! What has happened? " he asked, but before Clare could answer, Dino addressed the Ice-kin team. "Is there a reason you escorted my subject back?"

Mor looked stunned for a second while Elly smelled a chance and took charge before Clare could clear up the misunderstanding. She addressed the prince with a stern expression but then was interrupted herself as another team of two Ice-kin arrived at the Soul-kin residence. However, they looked confused for a second before speaking up, stealing Elly's thunder.

"I see. You already found the perpetrator." The Ice-kin guard stated.

"Perpetrator?" Dino asked, alarmed, while Clare sighed.

"The female attacked a hunter of good standing after her male companion was interrupted by another Ice-kin." The guard informed the prince, who in turn looked incredulous at Clare and Ambor.

Ambor shrugged. "I just did as ordered and protected big sis."

Dino took a sharp breath, getting ready for a verbal reaming, when Jorgen stepped in after a pleading look from Mor.

"We were the team that interrupted that encounter," Jorgen explained. "Our kinsman was the aggressor, as the Soul-girl defended herself. However, she still insulted our honor as hosts, so we will detain her within the guest space until she rethinks her approach to our hospitality."

The guards nodded. "Good, let's not make a big mess of things. This is a very commendable solution. We're understaffed with all the visitors and newbie hunters around. I'm glad the more level-headed hunters from other villages are helping out."

Jorgen didn't correct them but simply nodded in agreement, causing the guards to return to their duties. Dino let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you for being lenient." He stated.

"Um, Dino." The other Ice-kin said.

Now that he had a closer look at this one, something looked familiar. He had quite unique eyes for an Ice-kin, almost like a Soul-kin. However, before he could connect the dots, the door to the house flew open, and Sophie stormed out.

"Where is he!" Sophie shouted. "I know I heard my boy!"

"Really, with only two words?" Elly asked, surprised.

"Seems like it," Jorgen stated.

"Mother," Mor said with a smile.

Dino looked at Clare, who shrugged and then nodded. "I wanted to tell you, but you interrupted me."

"Mor!" Sophie shouted and rushed to her boy, throwing herself into his arms, as he was now a whole head taller than she was. She instantly began to fuss over him, asking question after question, not waiting for an answer to any of them before continuing on. She only got stopped forcefully when Mor embraced her in a strong hug, both son and mother breaking out in tears of relief and happiness.

Dino stood by, still not fully comprehending the situation. However, the ruckus of the reunion drew the attention of the rest of the group, and the next one rushing out of the house was Morokhan.

"Did I hear right?!" He asked, then noticed his wife hugging the muscular man.

"Mor?" He asked.

The man looked up and nodded with a smile. Morokhan grew a big smile and joined the family embrace.

"You got big." He stated, and Mor laughed.

"Quite, isn't this a bit much?" Dino asked, not addressing anyone specific.

"We almost didn't recognize him, too." Clare agreed. "But he did live with Ice-kin for a while, so it isn't that surprising."

As the family celebrated their reunion with intimacy, Orth appeared with Tiara and Saphine in tow. He took a quick look at the scene, then at the two girls next to him, who both smiled at this display of familiar affection and decided to give them space. There would be time enough later to catch up.

It did take a while, after which Mor introduced his two Ice-kin friends to the rest. With his mother still clinging to him, Mor and his friends were invited into the residence, as everyone wanted to hear how he had done. This meant Orth had to retell his story again, starting from the fight with the Shadow-kin, courtesy of the human, the following running, and his stay at the Ice-kin village, with all the troubles he went through.

Mor had to endure the piercing stare of the unknown Soul-kin until Jorgen challenged Ambor to the fight he had wanted, as he had heard the story once and was quite familiar with the part where Mor stayed in the village. Ambor and Jorgen left, the first excited to have a fight, while both Elly and Orth let out a sigh, after which Mor continued his story.

The question of why he hadn't tried to contact them had come up again. However, Mor had no other answer than he had given the girls, and no one else could explain why it was like this. Sophie hugged her boy tight, shocked at what he had to go through, while Morokhan looked quite proud of his boy's accomplishments. Elly's involvement in the whole story made Sophie suspicious, and she threw a scary gaze at the Ice-kin girl, who quickly reassured the scary Soul-kin lady. She stated that Mor wasn't her type, and she preferred someone like Jorgen, which calmed down the overbearing mother. Dino also had his thoughts on the matter and therefore asked.

"How did you change your body so much? You have proven that changing your body is possible, but this seems quite extreme. I didn't recognize you at all. You look like an Ice-kin."

"How could you not recognize my sweet boy!" Sophie pouted.

"Well, it was the same for us." Tiara came to her brother's help.

"I can see that." Morokhan nodded sagely.

"Tia, Honey!" Sophie exclaimed, shocked.

Mor laughed at this little interaction, which gave him a sense of normality. "Well, at least you can't say I'm little anymore."

"You will always be my little boy." Sophie pouted.

°That's a mother for you.° The human chuckled.

"To explain," Mor stated. "It's just hard work, the right food, and a bit of guidance from others."

"And I guess the help of your human." Dino mused, and Mor nodded.

"I wanted to get home as fast as possible, and getting stronger was my only chance. Therefore, we both decided to stop holding back."

°Sorry prince, but not sorry.° The human added.

"I understand," Dino said and nodded. "I will find a solution to explain it to other Soul-kin."

"Good." Orth said, "Because you will have a second one soon."

Dino looked questioningly at Orth, then recognized the sounds of sparring from outside and sighed. "Ambor, " he stated, and Orth nodded. I guess he won't listen to an order not to do that?" Dino asked hopefully, but Orth shook his head.

"He has his nickname as berserk healer for a reason," Orth said.

"Well, I told you my story. What are you guys up to?" Mor asked. The girls hadn't told me anything because we needed to get ready for travel."

"Well," Orth started out but was stopped by Dino, who looked at Morokhan and Sophie and received an affirming nod from both of them.

"Let me start." He stated.

"After we had investigated the crash site, we found the tracks and had to make our own assertions."

"We thought you died." Sophie interrupted.

"I know," Mor said.

"Anyway." Dino continued. "Your parents took it the worst, but everyone else mourned your passing. I personally was furious with my father, as he knew of the Shadow-kin attack and did nothing to stop it. Leading to starting a plan to get me on the throne."

"How?" Mor asked, and his father let out a sigh.

"With a stupid plan." He answered.

"It is not stupid. You said so yourself." Dino protested.

"Only because it was too far along to stop it," Morokhan grumbled.

"Dino planned to get three of the four big families on his side, with me taking over the Obsidian family, which I've almost achieved after beating my elder brother. Not long, and I will be the next head of the Obsidians."

Mor looked interested in that tale, but Orth didn't regale him right now and instead saved it for another time. "He also put our relationship in line with that stunt," Clare grumbled.

"Don't grumble. It went well after all." Orth said, pulling Clare close to him.

"Wait, so the two of you are about to bond?" Mor asked, and both nodded.

"Congratulations!"

After that, Dino continued to explain, leaving out the relationships of Saphine and Tiara, as the two of them probably want to tell Mor on their own terms. Morokhan filled in the parts when excitement took over from truth, culminating with the final question Dino and Mor's parents wanted to have explained.

"Why did you want to come here and do that "first hunt?" Dino asked.

"Because I promised and want to help my friends," Mor answered.

"But isn't it dangerous?" Dino asked.

"Of course it is, and Mor will not do that!" Sophie argued.

"Mother, this is my decision," Mor stated.

"But what if I lose you again?" She asked.

"Let him." Morokhan came to his son's help. "I think he earned the right to be treated as an adult. No matter how little we like it." He then turned to the quiet Ice-kin girl. "Promise me, you will bring him back."

Elly nodded. "I will, but he is a better hunter than me. So he will need to help me get back."

Morokhan nodded and ended the discussion for now.

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---

Ilya collapsed, her back hitting the snow with a soft thud. She reached down with trembling fingers and clutched the black dart embedded in her stomach. Her face twisted in pain, and her eyes widened with shock.

“Take cover!” I rushed to her side, grabbing her by the jacket and dragging her behind the pine trunk. The dart was thin, with a serrated body, and coated in a dark substance. I didn’t need to be an expert to know it was poisoned. Ilya’s breaths weakened, and her skin paled.

Wolf and Zaon took cover behind the tree, but Firana remained exposed, trying to determine where the attack had come from. Zaon jumped out of cover and tackled Firana just as a second dart cut the air and ended up embedded deep in the bark. They crawled back, covered in snow and dirt.

Wolf knelt beside me, his Wind Sling ready to shoot. “Where did that come from?” He hissed, scanning the trees.

My heart rushed as I looked around. The dense thicket blocked my sight, and not even [Awareness] could catch the culprit. I focused on my mana sense. The world's colors faded away. The roots pulsated as they absorbed mana from the ground and transported it towards the stem. The vortex over Farcrest looked like an evil beacon against the sky. Wolf was a small speck of pure-white mana, Zaon looked like a silvery column, Firana was a bright red torch, and Ilya was fading away. Then, I briefly caught a slight trace of corrupted mana floating between the trees.

“Stay alert,” I whispered to the others. Then, I turned my attention to Ilya. “Hang in there. Don’t move.”

I knew we had to take the dart out, but it was going to be painful. With my bare hand, I could feel the hundreds of microscopic barbs all over the surface. Pulling it out could also damage Ilya’s body. I rummaged through my potion’s pouch for the last Health Potion we had—high grade—a get-out-of-jail-free card. Or rather, a cheat-death-once card.

“Drink,” I said, putting the vial against Ilya’s lips. Ilya moved her head away, and her eyes shut in pain. “I’m not drinking our last potion.”

“Zaon, can you see anything?” I asked over my shoulder.

Zaon’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the forest. “Nothing. I can’t sense it either.”

“Wolf, come here. We need to pull the dart out,” I said.

Wolf nodded and shifted closer. He was on edge, his muscles tense and ready to react to the slightest sound. Ilya barely held herself upright, even with the pine against her back. Her skin had gone from pale to ashen. She gritted her teeth, fighting to stay conscious.

“Patch me up, and let me rest. Save the potion for later,” Ilya said, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, and her arms losing strength.

I pulled a bunch of bandages we had raided from the Sentinel’s watchtower and handed them to Wolf.

“Put pressure on the wound as soon as I pull out the dart,” I said.

Wolf grabbed Ilya’s shoulders to keep her steady.

With a sharp motion, I pulled the dart free. I felt the barbs tearing through flesh as it came out. Ilya let out a weak, muffled cry, and her body tensed in pain, if only for an instant. Blood gushed from the wound. Wolf pressed the bandages against the wound as I tipped the vial to Ilya’s mouth. Despite the pain, she tried to refuse, but I pulled her head back and forced the vial through her lips. At first, she gurgled, but after noticing I wasn’t pulling back, she swallowed the potion.

I opened my mana sense and saw how the potion traveled through Ilya’s body, knitting the edges of the wound together and stopping the bleeding.

“Dammit, Robert. We are out of potions,” Ilya grumbled, but Wolf prevented her from standing. The Health Potion was working its miracle.

We were out of potions, and the attacker was still out there, but I couldn’t let Ilya die.

Zaon moved closer. “We need to move. Not even my [Sonar] can detect it.”

Just as I nodded, I felt a subtle shift in the environmental mana. I focused on the thicket. There it was again. Corrupted mana slithering between the trees like a smoke trail. It was getting stronger, more concentrated. I considered our options. The kids weren’t ready to fight against a high-level enemy.

“I will draw the attack. You run to the ridge over there; it will give you better cover than this pine,” I said, pointing to the east. There were thirty meters between the pine and the depression on the forest bed. Even with Ilya in tow, Wolf could cross the distance in a few seconds.

“But you are only level eight!” Firana complained.

“Captain Kiln said I have the strength of a level forty,” I replied, pulling an antidote from the potion's pouch and giving it to Wolf. I hoped Elincia’s multipurpose antidote was enough to fight the dart’s poison, but the best outcome was not to be wounded.

I caught the Corruption in the air.

“Firana, be on guard. If the enemy is a flyer, I might need your help to ground it,” I said, channeling my mana and forming a solid shield over my left arm. “Are you ready?”

The kids nodded.

I jumped out of cover, shield high in front of me. I scanned the forest. The diffused trails of Corruption were visible to my mana sense. Whatever had shot the dart was coming close. I got the impression of hearing the buzz of insect wings, but the sound disappeared as soon as I detected it. I fed [Awareness] with more mana, and my perception of time slowed. I took everything in—the wind speed, the rustling of the leaves, the boots shifting against the snow. My brain burned like someone had shot a molten nail through my skull.

Then, I saw it—a quiver of leaves, a strange reflection of the sunlight, and the lancets flying at me.

“Go!” I yelled, and Wolf and Zaon jumped from cover with Ilya in tow.

My shield shattered. The first lancet impaled the palm of my hand, and the next two lodged in my forearm, one near the wrist and the other just below my elbow. I ignored the pain—or rather let [Awareness] suppress it—and unleashed a barrage of mana shards. Trails of blue light crossed the forest like the tracers of a Gatling gun. The shards mowed young trees and branches, but the invisible monster was too far for my attack to be effective. The more the shards moved away from me, the more energy they lost until they dissolved into thin air.

I clenched my teeth as I realized I couldn’t reliably hold the shotgun with my wounded arm.

The barrage had dissuaded the monster from attacking. My left arm numbed down, and I seized the moment to drink the antidote. The monster’s invisibility wasn’t perfect. My [Awareness] locked on the warped light around the edges of the figure. I ran forward, my mana shards gaining strength at each step.

“Firana! Bring that flyer down!” I yelled.

Firana jumped from behind the pine and propelled forward with [Aerokinesis]. The invisible creature shifted in the air, but Firana turned, almost crashing against a tree as she dodged the lancets. [Awareness] told me that Firana hadn’t seen the attack coming; she even dodged into the attack. She went by pure instinct. Firana bumped against the tree but jumped back to her feet. Then, she channeled her mana and ripped the air from under the monster’s wings, creating a low-pressure zone.

Predicting the drop, I aimed my mana shards and hit the invisible monster. The invisibility spell wavered, and patches of black chitin appeared where before there wasn’t anything. The creature’s shape became clearer—a humanoid, slender frame covered in a glossy black exoskeleton, a thin wasp-like waist, and two sets of oversized translucent wings. The creature’s abdomen ended in a black lancet, just like the one I had embedded in my arm. A viscous, dark liquid dripped from the holes the mana shards had pierced on the chitin.

Mana Stalker Lv.22 (Corrupted). Magical Abomination.

My arm throbbed with pain. The antidote seemed to kick in, but my fingers felt numb. Luckily enough, the poison didn’t interfere with my mana pool. I channeled a barrage of mana shards and pressed the attack, laying waste to the forest vegetation. The creature, however, was quick and took cover behind a tree. The bark exploded, but the tree was a centennial pine.

“Keep it grounded!” I shouted.

Firana focused, and I could feel the currents shifting. She twisted her hands, her eyes were closed, and I noticed the strands of pure white mana traveling her body. Firana wasn’t just casting a spell like the other System users I have met. She was meditating, weaving the mana, and forcing the System to bend to her desires. Maybe Ilya was right, and Firana was just a genius.

The Mana Stalker screeched, its wings fluttering wildly as it tried to lift itself again. Firana pulled the air with each wing beating, preventing the creature from creating any lift. It wasn’t an easy feat, yet Firana kept it grounded.

I dashed forward, ignoring the pain. I had to finish it now. As far as I knew, the whole Swarm already knew about our presence. I closed the distance, and the creature’s black eyes, full of rage, focused on me. It tried to contort its abdomen forward, but the lancet hit the ground.

The Mana Stalker was only a threat if airborne.

With one swift motion, I swung my mana-charged sword downwards. My blade cut through the air, leaving a bright blue trail. The Mana stinger twisted its body to avoid a direct hit, but with a quick frontal step, I buried the sword in its abdomen. The creature shrieked, and the sound seemed to pierce the sky. Then, I stepped to the side and slashed its wings.

The creatur...

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101 Hours After the First Round of Interloper Interrogations. Signal Station. Administration Wing. Bunker HQ.

Evina

I cocked my head at the alien, regarding those final two topics with an unwavering expression that conveyed nothing but certainty and finality.

‘Not that he would be able to see it underneath the helmet…’

“I think the answer to both questions is quite obvious.” I responded promptly, without a hint of hesitation in my voice. “We kill them.” I stated bluntly.

This seemed to cause some concern in the Vanaran, as he went silent, his expression otherwise unreadable through the obstruction that was the helmet.

“I concur, Evina.” Vir responded in kind, hopping in barely a few seconds after the alien had gone silent. “At least, that’s me weighing in on the situation with regards to the cyberbeast. The interloper on the other hand… requires some more finessing, and a bit more planning.” He began, as it was clear this was about to lead to a whole other topic, one which I braced myself for by attempting to temper my sheer and utter contempt for that being as best as I could. “Simply put, the very fact that we have an interloper more or less in our custody, to do with as we please, is a feat that should not be taken lightly. Hell, this was literally the goal of humanity at its height back in my era; a goal which was never accomplished. To just kill it would be to limit our strategic pool of possible actions. Moreover, if my projections are to be believed, allowing the interloper to live, under our custody mind you — may present some interesting opportunities the likes of which would otherwise be unimaginable, let alone improbable.”

Every iteration in my head agreed with the AI to varying extents. Heck, I even found myself agreeing with him as well. However, there was that latent part of my mind that wished for nothing but the interloper’s slow and painful demise.

It was the source of the literal end of the world, after all.

It had been behind the manipulation of countless millions, of entire nations, and was the sole entity responsible for the construction of this bunker.

It, through direct intervention, had allowed for the existence of the cyberbeast’s AI. Which by extension, meant that it had directly played a role in Eslan’s suffering.

That fact alone… was pushing me to the very edge.

But I knew this wasn’t just about me.

I knew, of course, that this eons-old intergalactic war would be better off with it alive; to be used as a tool.

But that cold and hard calculus was just too difficult to rationalize when you were burning up with rage and frustration.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to strike down Vir’s input.

I knew he was right.

And that was the worst part about it… the fact that he was undeniably in the right, and my own position was more or less objectively in the wrong.

I had no argument but my own rage and desire for justice.

However, this conversation wasn’t over yet, as Lysara had yet to have weighed in.

Though, judging from his lack of any outward reaction just yet, it was clear he at least wasn’t bottling up existential turmoil.

“We will discuss the matter of the interloper later then.” Lysara offered after a good few moments of quiet contemplation. “Making use of them, rather than just removing them from the equation outright, is a logical course of action.” The alien admitted. “Though I’d prefer justice to be exacted—” He spoke, whilst turning towards me, as if reading my mind like an open book, and taking it a step further by actually voicing my concerns. “—in a manner that at least addresses the crimes committed to Evina’s people. Though… knowing you, Vir, I assume that this more or less comes ‘in the same package’ as it were?”

“I’ve run a few projections.” Vir responded with a sly tone of voice. “Most of the scenarios have indeed taken justice into account. In short, I have a lot of options for us to work with. Everything from immediately leveraging our possession of the interloper for use as a bargaining chip with our new UN remnant friends, which I’m sure will be more than happy to provide some hospitality proportional to its crimes. All the way to ideas including using it as bait for other interlopers for future operations, or even as a resident resource for intel, the latter of which still gives us the option of punting it off to the UN to be taken into its justice system. All in all, I have a lot of scenarios cooked up, all of which have an off-ramp clause baked into it to ensure that whatever happens — it’ll end up paying for its crimes.”

“Would that be agreeable with you, Evina?” Lysara quickly turned towards me, before quickly adding. “We will, of course, be discussing this in greater detail on the ship.”

“You know… I’d be lying if I didn’t say I thought you guys were just going to go full pragmatic, to simply allow that beast to live with no repercussions for what it's done just for the benefits or novelty of keeping it alive; maybe even appeasing it.” I admitted with a bow of my head.

“Black and white thinking is oftentimes an easy trap to fall into.” Lysara responded. “I understand though, both the why and the how of that sort of thinking, and I do not fault you for it. If anything, I empathize and sympathize with you, Evina.” Lysara paused, making sure to meet my eyes through the untinted visor. “After all it's done to me, and my people, I’d want nothing more than to simply be done with it. However, considering our predicament and our goals, using it may result in a net positive for the intergalactic community, and reality as we know it. But this of course doesn’t mean we’ll simply allow it leniency. A balance can always be struck, somewhere between the black and the white.”

“Heh, I guess that’s a lesson that I still need drilled into me in spite of the lives I’ve lived.” I responded with a shrug. “Still, I appreciate the thoughtfulness, Lysara.” I quickly added, giving the alien another firm dip of my head in the process.

The alien responded similarly, before shifting his gaze towards his HUD, and highlighting the live feed of the cyberbeast for the both of us. “With the interloper question tentatively penned out for now, the matter of the cyberbeast’s fate is still in question.” He stated plainly.

“My decision on that thing still stands.” I reaffirmed.

“And so is mine.” Vir promptly added without any hesitation.

This once again left Lysara to provide his take on the monster in the basement.

A task that he seemed to ponder heavily, before breaking out into a dry, almost self-deprecating chuckle. “You know, it’s rather ironic to consider that just a few months ago… I would’ve likewise agreed without hesitation.” He began, his voice growing darker just for that brief moment. “But for vastly different reasons, of course. Back then, I would’ve gladly agreed with the summary execution of that thing, simply because it was an artificial intelligence.” That revelation prompted me to perk up my brow, if only to regard how utterly different that mentality was, especially in the face of the relationship between Lysara and Vir as it appeared today. “However, my time with Vir has prompted me to perform a complete shift of that mentality, one born out of millenia’s worth of cultural reaffirmations as to the threat of AI.”

“So what exactly are you getting at here, Lysara?” I urged.

“Yeah, don’t tell me you’ve grown soft now, organic.” Vir added with a tone that I could only describe as a friendly, and practically tone-deaf jab, especially given the topic we were addressing.

Though I’d be lying if I was surprised by this, given the personality the AI had demonstrated thus far.

To this end, Lysara responded with a deep and purposeful breath, letting it all out before continuing. “To cut to the chase, as the humans say, I agree with your assessments.” He began plainly. “Though as I stated, this isn’t a result of a knee-jerk reaction from emotional considerations. Instead, it’s a result of each and every test Vir has employed on the cyberbeast. To put it simply, the cyberbeast is far, far too dangerous to be allowed to leave this bunker. Let alone to allow it to interface with any sufficiently advanced piece of equipment ever again.” Lysara concluded, his tone of voice never wavering into anything other than a somber sense of calm impartiality. “Your ideas on allowing Addy to reform itself through the use of its resources in rebuilding your civilization, is a noble one, Evina. This is yet another reason why I believe it is imperative that we do not allow the cyberbeast a chance in ruining that endeavor. I… suspect Vir already has projections of exactly what sorts of threats the cyberbeast may pose to Addy’s integrity.”

“You caught me there, Lysara.” The AI responded. “I haven’t yet addressed this but… according to the records I’ve scrounged from its old servers, the cyberbeast has considered usurping Addy on multiple occasions. The only thing truly stopping it, were its directives. Moreover, I have suspicions that its desire to physically interfa...

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Concept art for Sybil

Book1: Chapter 1

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Klokinator on 2024-10-01 15:51:10+00:00.

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Author note: The Cryopod to Hell is a Reddit-exclusive story with over three years of editing and refining. As of this post, the total rewrite is 2,296,000+ words long! For more information, check out the link below:

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(Previous Part)

(Part 001)

Inside Chrona, Jason Hiro alternates between watching the Maiuran War unfold via the Spynet Sphere, and traveling into his warehouse to take care of several important side projects. Even if the battle on Maiura concludes in just one realspace day, that's still 250 Chrona-days Jason can spend productively working on multiple projects to enhance his strength, as well as the abilities of his fellow humans.

For him, twenty days have already passed since the Kolvaxians first appeared. Jason sometimes thinks about the recent conversation he had with Hope. He scowls every time his subconscious mind brings it up.

"What an idiot. What a colossal moron. When did Hope become so stupid?" Jason wonders out loud, as he manipulates an artifact-knife in his hand, looking at it absentmindedly.

At this moment, Jason stands inside his warehouse. Thanks to the hard work of Rebecca, all his past and present artificing projects have been stored and organized on various shelves and inside mundane and magical containers, their details easily accessible via the central warehouse control system.

This particular dagger represents a random side experiment he decided to embark on just today; a simple design aimed at maximizing one highly specific attribute to the highest extent possible.

A dagger that strikes as many times at once as possible for the sake of stacking up the hits to deal a critical deathblow!

Jason stands before a training dummy, one imbued with exceptionally powerful regeneration magic, and a body made out of the hardest Wordsmithium he's ever produced. Intended to be a testing dummy for battling the Kolvaxians, this puppet is even more durable and regenerative than even the Kolvaxians themselves. Jason takes its design seriously, not skimping on the materials used to make it, as he worries the Kolvaxians may even strengthen over time.

Whenever he designs a new weapon, Jason goes to every possible length to ensure it will be effective against humanity's most frightening foe.

Abruptly, Jason stabs at the dummy's head, and the magic inside the knife activates, causing his arm to phase through time and space.

Stab-stab-stab-stab...

When his knife's stab lands, seven phantom images of his arm also land at the exact moment, causing a huge hole to explode in the dummy's head!

Quickly, Jason retracts his hand, watching as the dummy rapidly regenerates the Wordsmithium used to hold it together.

"Solid piercing capability, but I can't get the duplication threshold above seven. I guess that's the limit. What do you think, Rebecca?"

Jason turns to look at his loyal assistant, the Cybernite who has been crucial in helping him evolve his abilities. Rebecca watches the process silently, nodding her head when she hears Jason's query.

"Seven is fine. What's important is that the strike is highly focused. The armor-penetrative abilities are maximized, while the explosive power is minimized."

"But this knife can only deal with one Kolvaxian at a time." Jason points out. "And it requires 170 Energons to produce."

"170 Energons for an artifact of this quality isn't bad." Rebecca says. "Currently, we're able to capture 1,152 Energons across the Milky Way every Chrona-day. That means we could produce nearly seven knives each cycle."

"Yes, but only if we reduce the Wordsmithium volume to near-zero." Jason objects. "We need all the Wordsmithium we can get."

"The Quantum Knife is itself made of Class V Wordsmithium." Rebecca argues. "Compared to a thousand or so tons of Class I Wordsmithium, we're not making a loss."

Over the last several years, Rebecca and Jason have worked together to formalize a new system of energy mathematics. By harnessing the power of more than a hundred stars in remote locations hidden across the Milky Way, far from the Plague or Volgrim's influence, Jason has been able to secretly siphon the full energy of entire stars and convert it to mana for his own use.

The conversation ratio is truly terrible. 99% of the mundane energy is lost during the conversion, but the resulting mana gained is just as pure as the mana Jason's body innately produces, yet far, far more voluminous.

In fact, the amount of energy vastly exceeds what even Excalibur is capable of outputting! If Hope were to learn this fact, his ears would likely explode from rage...

After so many years, Jason has developed many different 'types' of Wordsmithium, possessing countless unique properties. Compared to the original highly durable but rather 'bland' Class I Wordsmithium he made years ago, the newest evolutions are multiple epochs superior.

One Energon gained from the Milky Way's stars roughly equates to a single ton of Class I Wordsmithium, while Class II requires 2.5 Energons, Class III requires 10 Energons, Class IV requires 50 Energons, and Class V requires 500...

Of course, these numbers are only estimates. Due to mystical reasons Jason and Rebecca have yet to fully unravel, sometimes they are able to produce more or less Wordsmithium than the incoming Energons imply, leaving them to scratch their heads. But by now, they've mostly figured out the averages.

"Seven knives made of Class V Wordsmithium are not that impressive." Jason also retorts. "Forget a single ton of Class V Wordsmithium, those knives don't amount to a fraction of a ton! Most of the mana is spent imbuing them with the Enchantments!"

"Spent, but not wasted." Rebecca says, waving her finger chidingly. "As long as you continue to locate stars in hidden locations, the Energon production will ramp up over time. But actually, I do have a better idea for the knives."

"You do? I'm all ears." Jason says, fiddling with the knife's edge.

"I say we retry the enchanting process. This time, aim for the bottom end of six strikes. As long as the knife can reliably stab six times, that will be more than good enough for our needs, and it will lower the Energon cost to manufacture them considerably. Furthermore, we haven't added an elemental enchantment. Since the Kolvaxians are weak to fire, let's try mixing that in. Six strikes that plunge flames, or plasma, or even raw explosive energy into their bodies should allow for potential one-hit kills."

Jason chews his bottom lip. "Wasn't the entire point to get as many stabs in as possible? Doesn't dropping the threshold to six impalements fly in the face of your original design idea?"

Rebecca shrugs. "This is the scientific way, Jason. I extrapolated based on past data and suggested this development trajectory. It hasn't gone according to those projections, so we'll alter the plan and try again. Remember, the true goal is to develop weapons efficient enough for ordinary soldiers to fight back the Kolvaxian hordes. And if we develop weapons of that quality, they should also prove effective against many Cosmic threats."

Jason sobers up, remembering his primary goal. "Right. Good point. Okay, we'll take a break for a few hours then. When I come back, I'll retry with the new design principle. If we're lucky, maybe I can lower the Energon cost below 125... that would be big."

He sets the knife on his machining table beside half a dozen previous prototypes. Then, he stretches and pops his back, but he doesn't leave the warehouse.

"Something else?" Rebecca asks.

"It's Hope." Jason mutters. "I keep thinking about what he said to me. Why is he so insistent on me staying away from Maiura? He's putting lives at risk."

"You don't have to do as he says." Rebecca points out. "So what if he gets mad that you're helping? This is no time for a small-minded man causing thousands or even millions to die."

"That's a logical way to put it." Jason says, raising an eyebrow. "But things are never that simple. Hope isn't an idiot. He's actually really smart. Hell, not that many years ago I even felt he was way smarter than me. It's important humanity doesn't become divided during this crisis. If him and I start butting heads, it could lead to a catastrophe."

Rebecca crosses her arms. She looks at Jason meaningfully.

"Is that why you're staying here, working on these projects? You're afraid of pissing Hope off?"

"No, I'm not afraid of him." Jason snorts. "But this is about the bigger picture. If I enrage him, or cross some unseen invisible line, I might set him off. What if he lashes out?"

Rebecca falls silent.

Several seconds pass as she looks at Jason, her eyes betraying no emotion.

"If things have degraded that far, Jason, then..."

She pauses.

"...perhaps you sho...

---

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/StarboundHFY on 2024-10-01 15:29:50+00:00.

---

Listen to the story on YouTube!

Alien Divers Terrified After Dormant Human Battleship Reactivates

By: Douglass (Writer for Starbound)

Rumor has it that my final job as an ordnance disposal technician was the only failure in my immaculate career, but I consider it the most successful event in my long life.

It all started when I stepped out of the ship, the greeting party awaiting me on the ground. The first thing I noticed about the Aquidians was their iridescent scales that shimmered in hues of green and blue. The most eye-catching feature was their exosuits. These weren't just for protection; they were designed with built-in hydration systems and specialized joints, allowing water creatures to move across solid terrains.

One of them left his group and approached me; a digitized voice emanated from a speaker in his exosuit, "I am Oni, the cluster leader of this province. It's my honor to have the best ordnance disposal technician in the galaxy at our service!"

I was slightly annoyed that they didn't refer to me by name, but I had long since accepted that once you are known as the best at something, that's what you will be remembered for. Swallowing my annoyance, I replied, "You can call me Kimo. I will be happy to help your species rid this planet of those old human weapons."

The decision to grant this planet to their species was a contentious one. Some, myself included, believed more time was needed for this planet to heal. Regardless, I was there to assist them in making this flying rook a suitable living place for their species.

I saw my task as important because the Aquidians were a species that had only recently joined the galactic stage, foolishly young and too eager to get a second planet, willing even to get this rock that no one else wanted. I noticed this when Oni spoke for a second time, "We appreciate your concern, Kimo, but this is not a deadly rock. The previous owners, the humans, are a land-walking species like yours. Their landmines and hidden silos are a menace to the land, but we have plenty of time to deal with those challenges since we’ll be living deep in the beautiful oceans."

My sense of duty screamed in panic after hearing such an atrocious statement. Didn't the Aquidians get a copy of galactic history? The humans were great fighters on land, in the air, underwater, and even in space. Their ships were famous for being so overengineered that they could withstand even the harsh atmospheric conditions of gas giants, and that was at the time of the war. In the present, there were rumors of ships grazing the stars and surviving to tell the tale.

I raised my voice, "Cluster leader Oni, this is the kind of mentality that can cause an accident. Didn't your species hear what the Avians had to say about how human weapons fare in atmospheric warfare? Or what the pirates said after attempting to escape into space from the humans? Why does your species think the water is any different?"

Most of my experience dealing with disposing of human ordnance took place on land, but the patterns of human weapons are all the same no matter the environment—they were built to last, and the safety features tend to fail before the destructive potential fades.

Cluster leader Oni's eyes widened inside his exosuit, and I watched as countless bubbles formed in the water he was breathing. "With all due respect, Kimo. No one knows the water better than us. We learned how to deactivate their old sea mines before we requested your help. We’re concerned about the weapons near the shore, not the ones submerged underwater. Those on the shore are the ones that destroyed a ship that landed in the wrong place; they are a threat to every species that visits our new planet."

If I had heard such foolishness when I was young, I might have walked back to my ship, never offering my help to such a stupid species again. But with age came understanding, and through repeated interactions with the young and messy uplifted species, a certain trace of empathy appeared in my heart instead of anger.

"If this is the choice of your species, I will respect it," I said. "Give me time and a competent team, and I promise that all your shores will be clean of human weapons in less than a standard cycle."

The bubbles on Cluster Leader Oni's visor ceased, his voice also sounding calmer. "Besides being the best at your job, you are also understanding. It's truly a privilege to have you in our new home. You will have your team soon. Your authority over the land operations will be higher than most cluster leaders; I believe this is for the best for the future of our species."

Not knowing which gesture to use for the Aquidians, I deflated my fur like a proper Uczin and said, "Cluster leader Oni, if you allow me one last recommendation, please hear what I have to say. Your species might be capable of deactivating the sea mines, but please never allow yourselves to get careless with them. Also, if you ever find anything that looks different, you must alert me before attempting anything. When discarding human weapons, don’t touch what you know, and stay far from what you don’t."

Some bubbles appeared again inside the visor of Cluster Leader Oni's exosuit. "You keep the shores clean, Kimo, and we'll take care of the water. You landwalkers will never understand how much we can do in the beautiful world of the deep trenches."

My empathy wavered briefly when Cluster Leader Oni abruptly left our conversation, joining the others who leaped into the water. Luckily, that was the first and final glimpse I had of him for quite a while.

As time passed, I grew fond of the young species. My brief period with the Aquidians felt almost like my training with the humans. However, this time, the tables turned—I found myself in the role of the instructor.

Guiding the newcomers through the nuances of landmine safety was not a tedious task. My greatest frustration was failing to make them believe that the humans would remove the landmines themselves if requested—the war that the humans won against the two most ferocious warriors of the old federation had earned them a bad reputation.

I also blame the fear the Aquidians felt about the humans on the incompetence of their leaders. Even though the only reason someone like me had a job was because of the reluctance many young species had about getting the humans involved with their business, they were afraid humanity was similar to the other warrior species who would get violent after someone looked at them the wrong way.

It was when I was planning an open class to change this mentality that the first incident on the planet happened.

It was night, the ocean breeze ruffled the makeshift curtains of my shoreside office as I prepared my notes for the class. I was engrossed in my datapad, finalizing the lesson plan, when the door slammed open with a bang. A digitized voice, disembodied from the exosuit now standing in the doorway, cut through the salty air. "Master Kimo, we need you to come with us. Now."

I recognized who was behind the exosuit, "What happened, Enix?"

He hesitated briefly before spilling the beans, "Cluster Leader Oni didn't want you to know, but we found a giant metallic structure deep in the trenches. It was doing nothing besides heating the water around it. But when we tried to drill a tiny hole into its shell, the whole thing came to life, and now we lost track of the enormous structure moving around the ocean floor."

A giant metallic structure on the ocean floor? Heating the water around it? My memory instantly went back to the list of weapons the humans shared after the end of the war. An inactive metallic structure on the ocean floor—likely an AI-driven submarine. The surrounding hot water suggests nuclear propulsion. Now, the mystery: Is its armament also nuclear?

"I need to contact the humans."

My hands were already moving to find the contact of the highest-ranking human I knew when Enix said, "Look, Master Kimo!"

He was pointing toward the ocean, and when I looked through the window, I saw groups of orange flames ascending from the ocean. They were just dots of light at this distance, but when they touched the clouds, rushing towards the upper atmosphere, I already knew the answer to my fear—it was not just the propulsion that was nuclear.

Enix and I went outside together, finding no more traces of launches from the ocean. The silence was unnerving. I could only look into the sky, wondering if my countless cycles of care and flawless disposal of weapons would come to an end at the scaled hands of some idiots who played with what they shouldn’t.

"What do we do now, Master Kimo?" asked Enix.

I only stared at the sky. "Nothing."

I don't remember the exact thoughts that went through my mind in those silent moments. But I remember with precision my reaction to the blinding lights that turned darkness into light in the center of the continental land—I felt truly grateful that the only species living on this rock were water dwellers.

The land shook next, and a shockwave hit us. Enix did not really understand how close to our doom we got, but sometimes, as the humans say, ignorance is a blessing. He even got his little moment of happiness when he realized that the shockwaves were...

---

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---

Oh Ney shot

The eldest boy, Damon, retreated along the ridge onto the spur they had chosen for the ambush. The Dark Lord followed him, laughing, dark lightning sparking from the monster’s armor at every futile strike.

Damon turned and ran a dozen steps, opening the range… but not enough for the Dark Lord to change tactics. The creature merely followed, feet pummeling the red rock of the ridge at each step, an evil smile writ large across its distorted face.

Just a dozen more steps to the place… ten… three. Damon avoided looking at either of his siblings where they were concealed, continuing past them and spinning to throw a dagger that clanged off the Dark Lord’s helm and sparked off to land on the bare rock.

He backed a few more steps.

“Ah, then you are all here!” boomed the Dark Lord, stepping forward into the kill zone of their trap. “It will do you no good. Three are not one, and the prophecy says I will be defeated by the Chosen One.”

“You read it wrong. Now!”

Cables of steel and silver slammed from each side across the Dark Lord, not quite a net but not merely bindings.

“Do you know why we chose this place to capture you?”

The Dark Lord laughed, long and loud, as it stood to its full height and began to gather its power. Black and greenish lightning sparked along the cables. In places, they began to melt.

“It does not matter. I will melt this fluff, and then extract your souls for my pleasure.”

“Oh, but it does,” Werdria called from the right. She was the scholar among them. “These nets are grounded deep into this ridge, to the very Earth whose powers and children you have stolen.”

The Dark Lord’s laugh returned, and the glow increased…then both flickered and faltered.

The Dark Lord made a thoughtful noise, calming its efforts, and then examined the bindings. “Interesting… but ultimately futile. No matter how well grounded these nets, they are only nets, and the rock is only rock.”

Little Tito snickered from the left.

The Dark Lord brought the lightning back to a crackling green haze around itself, and began to stomp its feet, sending great cracks and fissures into the ridge below it.

Damon held his breath. Had Werdria been right, or were they about to die?

Another stomp. Another. The ridge shook. Damon heard Tito stumble and fall.

Another. The rock crumbled, and melted, and the Dark Lord suddenly sank half its height into the ridge. Then half the remainder.

The Dark Lord redoubled its efforts, and boomed out something incoherent as its mouth began to fill with dust and rock. Its eyes and ears remained momentarily above the ridge. A single word was intelligible,

“HHOOWW?”

Werdria smirked. "The ore under your feet is primarily magnetite. It greedily eats back all that you have stolen, and returns that to its mother.”

Damon continued. “For a thousand years, you have mispronounced what was written."

Tito, ever precocious, pronounced the Dark Lord's doom as he danced a little jig. "The word was not English ‘won’, it was Japanese ‘oh-ney’.”

Werdria laughed as the creature's head sank below the surface, yelling after the Dark Lord, “You were defeated by the Chosen Ridge.”

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/This-Ocelot-646 on 2024-10-01 16:43:59+00:00.

---

Every species had a gift. That was the way of the Gods’ will, that was the way of nature’s flow.

The Dwarves, short and stocky, were gifted by the Mechanical God with the gift of creation and innovation. Their small, calloused hands worked swiftly, creating large monuments to their crafting prowess, castles nestled within mountains, large machines and weapons the likes of the other species had never seen before. 

The Elves, tall and slender, were gifted by the Magician God with the gift of wisdom and magic. Large, towering libraries and spires dotted forest landscapes, a testament to their abilities. They weaved tree trunks like twine to create large castles, conjured up the tastiest foods, one even raised the dead, but that was very quickly outlawed.

The Orcs, large and broad, were gifted by the War God with the gift of strength and ruthlessness. Thundering, war hungry brutes that were natural hunters and battlers. Their Orc shamans used powerful blood magic and runes to strengthen their troops and weaken their enemies. While their civilization was primitive, they were still powerful enough that given the chance they likely would have taken the full continent. Had it not been for the humans.

Ah… the humans. 

The humans were not particularly tall. Taller than dwarves, but shorter than elves and orcs. Average. They were not particularly strong, or durable, or in tune with magic. They were… quite average. They had quite a bit of innovation, and the dwarves thought that perhaps humans were taller descendants of them, but they were not as mechanically gifted as a dwarf. No, while they had blacksmiths, for a while the humans could only achieve the works of basic steel armor and weaponry. They were average. Even the one thing they excelled at, which was their stamina, endurance and hunting prowess could be outdone by a bloodlusted orc or even a lowly centaur.

What the humans did excel at, more than any other, was speaking. Perhaps not their gift, but the humans were certainly gifted in the ability to negotiate and broker even cross species. They convinced the dwarves out of their little mountain castles, negotiated, traded, and formed alliances with them. They paid for the dwarves’ gift, receiving in turn machinery and well forged items in exchange for servitude and livestock. Soon, humans were as well stocked as the dwarves, equal if not exceeding.

They spoke well with the elves, brokering a deal with the machinery they had just received from the dwarves. The elves had never before seen dwarven works, and were fascinated. They managed to trade this to learn the magic of the elves, and soon some humans managed to excel above even the elder elves and weave wooden webs with trees like a spider. Soon, the humans were powerful magicians and healers like the elves, equal if not exceeding.

The human’s most difficult challenge, however, were the orcs. 

At first, the humans tried the same approach as they did the elves, offering dwarven machinery, armor, weapons. The orcs refused, their bone clubs and blades would do just fine.

The humans tried to teach them magic, the art of wood weaving and healing.

The orc shamans scoffed at the pitiful display. Their blood magic could leave battalions bleeding from every orifice of their body, they had no need for wood weaving.

Instead, the orcs wanted a display of strength. They took their most powerful orc soldier, Al’Thrakk, and demanded a human jump into the orc gladiator pit and fight. Defeat him, and the orcs would ally with the humans. Fail, and the orcs would slaughter the humans.

The humans sent their most powerful warrior into the ring. A man named John.

John, like all humans, was deceptively average. He was average height, build, strength, intelligence. Maybe the most average human of all time. And yet, when the fight commenced, this ‘John’ fought with the bravery of an orc battalion, and the fierceness of one. Kicking groins, darting below punches, climbing up Al’Thrakk’s back and putting him in a headlock, the audacity! The human fought like rats, dodging blows and only striking when his opponent was off balance. Al’Thrakk threw a punch at John’s head, which he ducked under, overextending his stance. John delivered a swift kick to the leg, and Al’Thrakk fell like a tree. John stood over his groaning opponent, who may never be able to sire children with the amount of blows his privates received, and raised his hands into the air, victorious.

And so, the orcs respected the humans. They traded with them, taught them orc battle tactics, blood magic, and trained them. Soon, humans were feared warriors like the orcs, equal if not exceeding.

For a time, the species lived in a balance, with the humans at the epicenter of it all. They negotiated treaties between the others, negotiated trade terms, negotiated the Union of Species. The world thrived under their influence.

Unfortunately, under the ground, in pits and deep caverns, evil finds its way to brew. The Demon God, Malfalst, hated prosperity. Hated the Union. Above all, he hated the humans. He hated their diplomacy, hated their kindness, hated their determination. He vowed to take the world, and when he did, he would wipe the human species off the planet.

Rising out of every pit and cavern, every sinkhole and cave, the hordes came. Thousands of demons, creatures, aberrations of life that should have never seen the light of day. They crossed the horizon like a tsunami of destruction, closing in on Union territory.

It was the dwarves they slaughtered first. Holed up in their mountain castles, all the machinery in the world couldn’t stop them from destroying the front gates and battalions. Malfast turned the dwarves’ gift against them, taking over their machinery and besieging their castle. Plague demons swept disease throughout the defending dwarven forces, culling their numbers. Eventually, the horde broke through, tearing apart the remaining dwarves and hanging them off the machines they had created, making horrible half mechanized, half biological creations.

With the death of so many living creatures, the flow of nature was out of balance. As such, Elven magic began to malfunction and corrupt. Powerless without their gift, the elves were where Malfast attacked next. The elves had for far too long relied on their gift, and as such had lost much of their bodily strength and working ability. The pitiful army the elves sent out to meet the demon horde were quickly slaughtered. The forest burned with the flames of hell as Malfast destroyed the elves and their homes, taking their magic and goods for himself. A black cloud of remains and ash floated above the forest, billowing into the air.

The Orcs of course, noticed this. They sent a battalion out to investigate the smog, delving into the elven woods. When that battalion did not return, they sent another. And another. 5 battalions went and left before the orcs processed that perhaps they had not gotten lost in the woods but rather defeated. The orcs, unable to accept this defeat, sent the full bulk of their army towards the demons. Ready for vengeance, the orcs charged into the forest. Malfast took advantage of their gift, which was also their weakness, leading the unwise and bloodthirsty orcs into a series of traps, culling their numbers bit by bit. He burned the orcs bodies afterwards, so the blood shamans would have no magic to call upon in the heat of battle. The last of the orc battalion were surrounded, rounded up like cattle and slaughtered like such as well.

With the final obstacle crushed, Malfast turned his sights to the ultimate goal. The humans. Their houses and castles nestled in valley hills, Malfast was set on exploiting the human’s gift to crush them utterly. But the more he researched, the more he looked into the characteristics of humanity, the more he became confused. Humanity had no gift. They were average in every regard, they had no one thing that they excelled at. They had no strengths… and no weaknesses.

Malfast decided anyway to attack the humans, sending his horde of demons to the human settlements. Thousands of claws smacked the ground as they charged at the human walls.

The humans were not ill-prepared however. They had seen what happened to their allies, and they were determined to crush the demons for what they did. Thousands of arrows flew over their castle walls, spearing demons out of the sky. Thousands of swords slashed in unison, tearing the hides off demons and slitting their throats. Malfast tried all his tricks. Tried to siege the human castles, but the humans learned from the dwarves, and sent a group to attack from behind the sieging horde, destroying them. He tried to burn the human crops, but the humans learned from the elves, throwing water on the burning fields. The water evaporated some demons, and the humans learned from that, incorporating water into their counterattacks. He tried leading the humans into a trap, but the humans learned his traps and created their own, elaborate pitfalls and rope traps and tactical retreats into large ambushes. At each turn, Malfast was bested.

The humans beat back the demons, pushing them back into the forests, then back into the mountains, and back into the caves. They pushed the demons back to hell, cornering Malfast. In a desperate final gambit, Malfast offered his servitude to the leader of the humans, in exchange for his freedom. He offered them the gifts he had stolen from the other races, the g...

---

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One shot

Sure. Thought it would be about now.

If you don't mind, would you do that tail thing to let your friends know that it's on, but we're going to chat a minute first. Neither one of us wants to get arrested after this.

Before we start anything, we got to register with Jake here what kind of flight it's going to be. Given those claws of yours, First Blood would be to your advantage, but wouldn't be much fun for either of us. KO or Submission, that's more usual. Again, given those claws of yours, the pot's got to be at least 50 credits to replace my clothes and equipment.

Then again there's Deathmatch. That's just like KO but the fight will be shorter. We don't have to kill each other; KO counts as a win, but we won't be trying to keep each other alive. If you want to go that way, I get your gun. Dayteen model 059, damn fine piece, good condition, got to respect a man who takes care of his equipment.

Pardon? What the hell would I care? I'll be dead. All my kit.

Hey Jake, what's the under-over on a Deathmatch? Yeah, this here mountain of steel hide and sharp edges.

Sounds about right.

What? Son, in a death match, I can't afford to be kind. I know five ways to kill a Ralston, and I'm taking the first one there's an opening for. Maybe the second, can't be predictable. From your scars, looks only one guy you ever fought knew what to do and he was about an inch low — that's a half claw more or less.

Ah. I see in your eyes you got it. Pardon?

Oh, they always think that. No, tough humans come from lots of places, not just Florida.

Hey, Jake, you got one of those truth detector blinky things?

Yeah, bring it out.

Okay, truthfully, I'm from Tampa. I've been to Georgia, which is near Florida. I've even been to Florida, lots of times.

See. Red light, red light, red light, truth, right?

I've gone down to the Florida Everglade swamps where they have gators. But I was Tampa born and raised, which is pretty far from there.

Gator? If someone calls you that, they probably think it's a compliment. If it is, it just means they don't know shit about gators. Gators are ambush hunters, dumb as stumps. They have one good move, lunge and chomp on something. Good bite strength, but next to no strength to open the mouth back up. So if they miss, a human can hold their mouth closed with one hand. And a gator will NOT chase you, because it's not worth the energy.

You Ralston, you're brawlers. Scales don't matter— fight-wise, you're more like a bear.

So, even though you won't be fighting a Florida man — and, God, I wouldn't want to get a reputation for being that, or I'd never get any peace — but it should be a fun fight anyway.

Shall we?

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Engletroll on 2024-10-01 15:16:57+00:00.

---

Part 1 . . Part 2 .. Part 3 .. Part 4 Part 5 .. Part 6 .. Part 7 .. Part 8

Adam got out of the booth. He was glad the next call didn’t need to be video or audio. He went to the restroom to clean himself up. Roks noticed and came over.

“You okay?” He asked, Adam nodded.

“Yeah, we just walked down memory lane a bit. He was my roommate at the orphanage. I just realized he must have seen me as his big brother. I never knew. Anyway, let me clean up, and we are almost finished here. Did you check for the jobs? We can fill it up again. Make a few credits,”  Adam jokingly replied.

“Well, there is a Wossir farming colony 15 lightyears away. We can pick up a load if you want, sell half here on the hub on the way back.  Should earn you some pocket money.”

Adam thought about it. “How long will it take?”

“A week, different direction, might be smart now, in case somebody is trying to track you back to Dirt,”  Roks replied, and Adam smiled.

“Let’s do it, and we can also check if they have a few plants we want.  I don’t want a complete copy of the Earth's fauna and flora. Kinda want to make it exotic.  Which reminds me, any planet of animals you want on Dirt from your home world?” Adam asked as he cleaned his face in the restroom, and Roks thought about it. 

“The Hurnsa! But that means you need Busgan and Bolbska for their food. And they need Sashal to eat. So that’s a planet. Damn so much to think of. Can I get back to you about it? I need Vorts to help me there.”  Roks said, and Adam looked at him. Hurnsa? I think I remember that from your books. It looked like a mix of a tiger and a velociraptor, but it had yellow stripes and black fur instead. How big are they?”

“They won't get big; the biggest are around my hip. We use them for hunting and guarding our home.”

“Sounds like our dogs. Good, I need to get you a book about Earth.” Adam replied as he went to reception to arrange for the next call, which was more of an email order of things he wanted, such as food.  A hundred kilos of chocolate, he changed it to two when he remembered the children. Then, he added a library of entertainment and blueprints for toys. The last was a request to the Earth Administration about potential settlers.  He gave a vague description of his location. He quickly got a reply that they would have to send a inspector to check before they could officially approve the planet open for colonization, or he could try the private organizations. Adam knew that was a hit-or-miss; he might end up with a religious zealot group that would take over, something he wanted to avoid. He felt a little better dealing with humans; he understood their hints so much better and didn’t feel like a child among grown-ups. He approved the inspector and was told he would be there within eight months and expected to be picked up at the Hub.  Adam had no problem with this, as it gave him time to set it up. He had mixed feelings when he left with Roks; he was both grateful and worried. He hoped this would be the correct thing; at the very least, he could free his friends. He stopped and thought about it. Yes, they are his friends. It made him smile.

“What are you smiling about?”  Roks asked as he saw his grin.

“Oh, just realized something; anyway, let's go eat and then find out what this colony has ordered to be delivered. I'm sure we can use that as an excuse to visit them.” He replied, and Roks gave him his pad. 

“I already checked. There are lots of goods, and they will fill up your hauler almost completely, and we will end up with 5 K in pay.” 

“Well, let's see what they need: machinery and some closed boxes with private belongings. Wait. It also says six passengers. “ Adam commented.

“We can cancel if you want.”

“Naw, it would be nice to have some guests along. Let's help them settle.” Adam replied.

 

They had a great meal overlooking the nebula outside the HUB, where Roks told him war stories that sounded more like exaggerated fishing stories. They were told several times to quiet down, though Adam's check suddenly gave them lots of leeway and offers of female companions that they politely declined.

“My wife would kill me if she found out.” Roks commented as the waiter left after the offer.

“Wait.. what? You are married?” Adam looked at him, surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me? When can I meet her?”

Roks grinned. “You already have. I'm married to Kina, why do you think it was so easy to get them to come.”

“You're allowed to marry within your troop? Wow, back on Earth, they would never allow that. Now I understand the story of the pirates on the ice planet. If she is your wife, then yeah.” Adam replied as he thought about it.

“Soldiers are not allowed to marry in human worlds?” Roks looked shocked, and Adam laughed.

“No, No. Soldiers can marry, but you can’t be in the same troop. It’s to avoid potential trouble. “ Adam replied.

“What about you?  No wife or mate?” Roks said, and Adam thought about it.

“There was one. She grew up at the orphanage. She wasn’t one of... never mind that. Well, she found somebody else.  That’s when I joined the military for a scholarship.” He emptied the glass, and Roks looked at him.

“What’s an orphanage? You mention it a few times, and I thought it was a school, but I feel I'm mistaken.” 

Adam was glad for the change of question. “It’s a home for the orphans, children with no parents, either by a loss like Evelyn, abandoned by their parents, stuff like that. “ He said.

Roks stared at him in disbelief. “You abandon your children? Why? Is that what happened to you?”

“I don’t know why they do it; some people are crazy, and some are just evil. Some feel that they are giving their children a better chance of life by doing it. Tell you how bad their life has to be for them to do that.”  Adam avoids to answer about himself; it was not something he felt comfortable talking about. Roks seemed to notice but ignored it as he tried to wrap his head around it.

“You guys are crazy. You have prisons and can abandon your children. I have heard stories about your crazy military, hells, and your droids are illegal on several planets, which reminds me. You need a pistol for the colony. They will freak out at the sight of your droid, and you don’t go to places like that unarmed.”

”I do have weapons on board. I knew I needed weapons when I traveled here.”

“I should have known; how many other secrets will I accidentally find out?” Roks replied.

“As many as you will let me accidentally find out, my friend; when are we picking up our passengers?” Adam said as he called for the bill. Twelve credits or twelve thousand earth credits.

“Tomorrow, Its getting late, and we should check-in with the others. See if there the place is still standing.” Roks said and Adam smiled.

“And you want to check in with Kina?”

“Well, yeah. She and Hara need to hear about the clan and if they want to join.” He replied.

 

At the ship, Adam went to his weapons locker and got out the pistol and belt. He left the spare pistol and the two rifles in the locker and checked the storage. The tech droid had stored all the goods and was running a maintenance check, so Adam went up to the bridge where Roks was talking to his wife.

“Are you sure he will allow us? But he doesn’t know us. Of course, I will accept, and I'm sure the others will, too.” She said, and Adam leaned against the door frame.

“Am I disturbing?” He asked. Roks turned his head and shook it. “Nope, can you please calm her down?”

Adam came over. “Hello Kina, Yes. I would be honored if you joined my little clan. It's not much, but we have great potential.”

She looked at him on the screen, and he saw her smile.” I would be honored, too. Should I ask the other if they want to join?”

“Sure, but no pressure. Nobody has to join. So what else is happening?” He asked.

“The students are working on a presentation for you, and Jork has built two speeders that they are using to inspect different parts of the planet. Vorts said you would be okay with it. He has been guiding them around.”

Adam grinned. “yeah, I'm okay with that. So you're saying they spend most of the days outside the base? Good. Tell them we are taking a detour and will take two weeks, so we will be back in three weeks. I will send Jorks instructions on what I want him to build.  He needs to find a place and start the project. The blueprints are in the server.” He looked at Roks and back to the screen. “I’ll leave you two alone and take an early night.”

 

The next day, the six passengers arrived, and Adam looked at Roks as he saw them. One male and five females, all were dressed in conservative clothes, covering their full bodies.

“Thank you for the transport. My name is Fader Kungo Mytt, and this is my wife. They will not disturb you during the travels.” The elderly Wossir said as his young wife dutifully waited behind him. Adam tilted his head slightly.

“You have five wives? Well, I'm not the man to judge. Welcome onb...

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