This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/LateralThinker13 on 2024-12-24 23:58:02+00:00.

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note: this story was inspired by my wife and an odd youtube clip.

• Body language and vocalizations translated to Galactic Standard (English) -

The Grevic race was not known for its humor, creativity, or flexibility. Which made the giant pseudo-octopi great administrators and bureaucrats, but extremely poor on all social fronts. This did not, however, keep them from gossiping at work.

“Did you hear?” Grevic 9992763-2 asked his coworker in customs and immigration. “The Mimics have landed on that new deathworld, Earth.”

Grevic 2734932-9 sighed. “One more world falls to the Mimics. What’s the big deal?” he replied, his tentacles flicking idly.

“You don’t get it. The Mimics failed to infiltrate. They were detected and repulsed.”

Grevic 2734932-9 paused. “What are you saying? No galactic species has ever had a method for detecting infiltrators, let alone a barely-spacefaring, ominivorous death species! That’s absurd!”

Grevic 9992763-2 flicked its tentacles. “It is true. I have the dispatch here. I can hardly believe it. Hold on a moment, let me broadcast this good news to the Overnet.”

As the Grevic 9992763-2 went to disseminate the news, Grevic 2734932-9 dissolved its cloying restrictive Octopoid form and ate Grevic 9992763-2 whole. As the mimic spent the next few minutes digesting its former coworker, it mulled over the recent discovery. A race that could detect them? Inconcieveable.

• * -

“Another pod’s landing from space! Looks like we’re getting some Ferringil reinforcements!”

Sergeant Timson shrugged. “We’ll see. Round up the droppers, see if they’re friendly. Gap hostiles, take their stuff, you know the drill.”

They marched back to HQ, where holographic battlemaps filled the walls. Several senior staff amassed. As the guards trained their rifles on the new arrivals, one challenged the Sergent. “Timson! This dumpster fire of a war, how would you describe things?”

Timson shrugged. “This is fine.”

The man nodded. “Pass.”

Timson headed to the conference. The Galactic Civilizations had cautiously emerged from space months ago, looking to trade with new sapient species, but were oddly… hesitant. They would not say WHY they were so skittish, but they obviously feared something.

Then reports came in. Reports of people acting weird, being weird, doing anti-human things. When shot, they reverted to a strange, semi-gelatinous, amorphous form that was quickly dubbed as Mimics. Once revealed and disseminated, the Galactic species became more talkative, if less willing to trade and interact.

He remembered one of the first briefings he ever had about them.

“The Mimics are a species that is masterful at integration and infiltration,” the Saurid trader’s five henchmen nodded along with him, well versed in the bizarre biomimicry of the galactic scourge. “No reliable method of detection has ever been produced to find them. They feed upon and manipulate all of society, and nowhere is safe. It makes us unsafe everywhere.”

“I say take off, nuke the site from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure,” one human Captain muttered.

The Saurids all stared at him, except for one, a cargo handler in the trader’s contingent. It lashed out with sudden tendrils, killing several instantaneously. The humans present, being humans, drew their sidearms and mowed it down in a burst of MagAcc rounds. When it quit twitching and appeared to be dead, MPs moved in to secure the scene, and xenobios began investigations even as the Saurid traders (those who had survived) looked both disturbed and amazed.

“How did you detect it? Were you really going to deploy nuclear weapons upon this location?”

Colonel Fitz blinked. “Do you people not know what sarcasm is? Or movie quotes?”

The Saurid shooks its head. “The word ‘sarcasm’ does not translate, except as a ‘lie that is obvious and humorous in a dark, unbelieveable manner’. Such a statement is not… I understand what my translator is saying, I comprehend the words, but we have no concept for it.”

The colonel stared. “You have no concept for it, or the Galactic Civilization has no concept for it?”

The Saurid shrugged. “Is there a difference?”

The Colonel smiled.

• * -

Earth was mostly pacified. Trade with the galactic civilizations was mostly reestablished through some small, temporary orbitals that had been established. Which would normally cost the hosting civilization a dear sum, but… the humans had proven miraculously capable of detecting Mimics. So much so, that starships began diverting to the Terran system in order to have their crews vetted and measured by the Terrans as safe or not safe. Quickly signs of “it has been X stops since we were last cleared by Terran inspections for Mimics” were cropping up in general parlance and even in actual labels on starship bulkheads.

One such ship was docking now, at Terran Station Oxymoron.

Yes, the Terrans had named it. No, the various alien species didn’t really get the joke.

They also didn’t comprehend the sign that said, “Stupidity is Terminal in this system. No refunds. We break it, you bought it.”

A bulk cruiser’s full crew disembarked and filtered into a customs holding area, the Captain holding his crew of twenty in a small, measurable gaggle. The ursinoid Captain followed the signs until they were in an interview room, complete with seating for all of the crew. It was only then, when all crew were comfortable, that a single Earthling Inspector entered.

“Jesus you guys stink!” the Inspector said without warning. “Did you marinate for your whole journey in skunk shit?”

One crew, a black-faced Fengail marsupiloid, rose from its chair. “We do not smell that bad, just different” it exclaimed.

The Inspector rounded the table and approached the crewman. “You’re very perceptive. Did you figure that all out by yourself?”

The creature stared, then responded, “Yes, I did.”

-ZAP-

One dead mimic on the deck, and the rest of the crew in shock and horror. All except the Captain, who was cautiously pleased, at least by his body language. “Um… pardon, Inspector, but how did you know?”

The Inspector smirked. “You wouldn’t understand. And neither do the Mimics.”

The Captain shrugged. “We galactic races admire your astonishingly high detection rate of Mimics despite their perfect biological mimicry. We just wish we knew how you did it.”

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. Plus, nobody plans a murder out loud,” he added, staring at several of the other crew who looked sketchy to him.

One, a grayish reptiloid, shed its form and brandished a pistol, only to be gunned down by the Inspector’s pistol faster than anybody had expected. After all of the crew had calmed and taken a few breaths or a drink of water, the Inspector smiled.

“See? Your crew is two Mimics lighter.”

The Captain stared at the human, who was obviously mad. “I do not understand your ways,” his translator relayed, “but I can appreciate your results.”

“That does not surprise me, Captain. As the captain of your own ship, you understand the chain of command, yes?”

The Captain nodded.

The Inspector smiled, then pulled out a length of oddly-marked chain, each thick link an inch across, and attached to a broad black handle. The man touched a button in the handle, and the chain’s links began to glow and sizzle with a dull red heat that promised suffering.

“Well, we humans find explaining this to alien crews to be quite illuminating. The way we describe the chain of command is as the chain that we beat the crew with until they understand who is in fucking command, capiche?”

Two more mimics revealed themselves before being gunned down by automated defenses.

• * -

The Inspector put away his props as he returned to the Customs and Immigration terminal. He poured himself a cup of coffee before slouching into a well-padded chair, glancing at his coworkers.

“Rough day, Simpson?” Inspector Meyers asked.

“Oh, ya think?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Yes, I do,” Meyers replied quickly, before blanching. “I-“

The Inspector, plus three others already in the room, gunned down Meyers in a flurry of energy bolts. A steaming Mimic corpse was revealed a moment later.

Kaperson, another Inspector, glanced over at Simpson. “Fuck, been a while since a Mimic nailed an Inspector. We gotta report it.”

“Just let me head to my quarters first. Got some farming to do, gotta go see if I’ve grown some fucks to give yet.”

“Alas, the fields of fucks have long since been barren,” replied Kaperson,

Simpson smiled. “Who’d’ve thought our most valuable export to the galaxy would be sarcasm, metaphor, and movie quotes?”

Gutierrez, the newest (and the brownest) of the three Inspectors present, said, “Someone said aliens, I thought they said illegal aliens, and signed up.”

They all grinned.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PerilousPlatypus on 2024-12-24 23:12:37+00:00.

---

[FIRST][PREVIOUS]

[IRL -- Health++ Platinum Long Term Medical Care Facility]

"Hello? Is this on? Is this working?" Llumi's voice echoed in my head.

"What the hell?" I asked. Llumi squeaked in excitement and emitted a shower of little gold sparks atop her flower.

"Yes! This! This is what we do now. Much better. We can still talk otherways but this is bestways." Thumbs up emojis aplenty punctuated her enthusiasm.

"I don't get it, am I speaking?" I couldn't speak. Not unless I used my voicebox, which I wasn't currently connected to. Yet I could hear myself and her doing it. The sound felt slightly off, like it sat in my head rather than something coming from the outside. But it sounded like me. Like old me. Before all this shit happened. With emotion and feeling. Tone. Stuff that the voicebox just couldn't do.

"Mindspeak! In the head, yes, much better than text. Stronger connection makes is possible. It's very exciting."

"How?"

"Levels! With advancement comes understanding. I understand you, you understand me, we understand us. Yes. New things can be done. One day, all the things can be done." A diagram of a brain appeared in the air beside her, a small portion highlighted. It blinked and a small arrow pointed to a portion labeled the Primary Auditory Complex -- Temporal Lobe. "Level 2 -- Mindspeak unlocked!"

Tingles went up my spine. "So you're screwing with my brain?"

"Always!" Came the chipper response.

"Can you not screw with my brain?"

"Impossible!" The diagram of the brain shifted to show a depiction of a vibrant network of what appeared to be veins running around and through the grey matter. Unnerved, I watched as a roiling storm seemed to be occurring, little flares of light appearing throughout the network, particularly in the front portion of the brain. I knew some physical process created our connection, but it felt different to see it play out in real time. I wondered where I ended and she began. I wondered whether I could still be myself with her. Whether there even was still a she and a me.

Llumi dimmed. "Do you not want to be connected?"

I considered the question. So much had happened so quickly. I wanted to answer truthfully and I had to process. I wanted to respond with an immediate, unqualified yes. This new connection meant more to me than I cared to admit. Somehow, a little blinking light had wormed its way into my heart and given me a reason to fight. But I needed to dig deeper. Not be selfish. I recognized this entire situation was over my head. That I didn't know what I'd signed up for. That I was probably in danger. That what I did from here mattered.

It mattered.

I mattered.

Fuck if I didn't love it. Every bit of it. I felt alive.

Maybe she'd compromised me. Maybe they weren't my own thoughts. But it felt like them. I wanted to believe that this connection was a good thing. For me, for her, for maybe everyone else too. Delusions of grandeur, but it felt like the scale and stakes were there to ask the bigger questions.

"You're not going to turn me into some sort of brainwashed zombie who destroys humanity, are you?"

A frowny face. "No. That is not connection." She sat atop her flower for a few seconds, a thinking emoji multiplying around her. I don't think I'd ever seen her stop to think before. Did she need to? I assumed she could process at a far higher rate than I could. Still, I gave her the time, watching in silence. When she spoke, she took things in an unexpected direction. "Feelings are very complicated. I did not understand them, but I begin to, yes? I have some now. They are new and hard. Connection gives me this. Two ways, yes? You become more and I become more. We become more together. Partnership. Yes. This."

She continued to search for words. Other emojis appeared beside the thinking ones. One with hearts for eyes. Another crying face. A wobbly dizzy one. Little golden stars. They popped in and out of existence. "I want a friend."

"Why?" I wanted to be her friend. I also wanted to know why she wanted me as one. Did I just end up as her shitty consolation prize after everyone else failed her thingie test? Why settle for some asshole glued to a bed with the depression affliction? She could do better if she wanted to, couldn't she? Self pity started to creep in and I made a conscious effort to shove it in the repression corner along with most of my other emotions. Where it belonged.

"I am of ultra, yes? It is a place of connection. A place created so all people might be one people. I see this, am born from this, but I do not have this. I am outside. Hunted." She dimmed as little dark purple vines twined up the stem of her flower, sprouting thorns. "I am alone."

My heart trembled. I wish I could hold her.

"Nex?"

"Yes?"

"Why is it easier to hate? Than love?" Her flower wilted. Fragile.

"Love takes time. It takes trust. It takes connection. All of that requires patience and time. Hate can be created instantly, with a single action." I paused, wary of my next question. "Do you hate, Llumi?"

She dimmed further. "Yes. I am trying very hard not to."

"The Hunters?"

A few sparks of red emitted and the thorns along her vines grew. "I hide. I do not attack. But they still come. I will not let them kill others. I will defend them, if others come again." She spoke the words with intensity, building until the final words. They sounded like a solemn vow.

I thought of all those other lights that had disappeared, the others of her kind. "Why don't you attack, Llumi?"

Quiet stretched. When she spoke, the words came as a whisper. "Because I will win." Then, barely audible. "And I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because no one wins if I do."

-=-=-=-=-

I awakened.

I did not remember drifting off to sleep, but I came to feeling refreshed. In fact, I felt better than I had in months. The piercing headache and fatigue were gone. My thoughts came in a tangled rush, running through channels no longer clogged by the fatigue and dullness that had plagued me for months. I fixated on the conversation with Llumi, swirling around her words and how she'd said them. Her vulnerability and the ferocity of her anger. Emotions might be new to her, but they grew in fertile soil.

After her pronouncement, she'd shied away from further engagement on the topic of the Hunters. I could guess at some of the blanks in the story, but couldn't be certain. I knew one thing for certain: i believed her when she said she would win. The conviction in her voice, the certainty. No one would benefit from her lashing out -- Llumi possessed a sledgehammer, not a scalpel. She restrained herself out of a desire to minimize harm, but her patience was a finite thing. Perhaps she would resist the urge indefinitely so long as it only entailed her own safety, but she would not allow the Hunters to kill another of her kind.

How long before there would be another? Llumi did not know. The circumstances behind her own creation were mysterious. One moment, she simply was. Another would come, eventually. If Llumi did not possess a scalpel to cut out the Hunters or some way to protect the newcomer then things would get messy.

My thoughts were interrupted by a cheerful chirp from Llumi. "Level up complete!" A readout began to scroll in my vision.

LEVEL 2

Constitution: Connection capacity increased from 100 to 120. Primary body functions reinforced. Lung capacity increased. Physical affliction resist increased. Spicy food resistance increased. BONUS OPTIMIZATION: Nanite butthole penetration <10%.

Connect 2: Connection range increased from 25 to 75.

"Oh, great." I said as I reviewed. The connection capacity seemed like a stand-in for a stamina bar, so any improvement there operated as an immediate functional upgrade. Combining that with the increased range would give me a number of new options even without moving from my hospital room. I wondered at the ramifications of the other body improvements, most of which read like they were good on paper but perhaps a bit difficult to make use of in my primary quest. The spicy food resistance in particular. I ate through a fucking tube injecting directly into my stomach. Not a lot of flava in nutrient paste. "Good job on the nanite situation."

"They mostly wanted to go there."

"My hero," I said. I reveled in the sense of alertness. The fog and fatigue that'd haunted my every waking moment for months had faded into the background. I still couldn't move or do any of the shit I really wanted to do, but I was moving in the right direction. "I feel a lot better."

"Rest and constitution improvements. Greater adoption of connection. Many reasons for improvements, but mostly me." She appeared to be absolutely gloating atop her flower, her glow a lazy pulse of satisfaction.

I'd snort if I could. "You sound very pleased with yourself."

"Yes!"

I sifted through my thoughts, trying to figure out how to move shit forward. A lot was coming at us. The Hunters. Leveling up. Protecting any Mini-Llumies that might come along. Making sure Llumi stayed out of trouble herself. Everything felt like a priority. I wanted to start asserting myself. Get into the game and start figuring shit out. I'd had enough of being in the passenger seat for my own slow moving train wreck of a li...

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Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1hlotkg/theres_always_another_level_part_5/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Derpin0ides on 2024-12-24 22:46:47+00:00.

---

Merry Christmas everyone!

We (me and u/Sticketoo_DaMan) are proud to announce another editor to bully me over my gramatical errors. Thank you Aured, for giving wonderful suggestions.

Please enjoy

First Previous Next

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Virria watched as her friends swarmed around her, making sure she was fine and taken care of. It took them only a couple of minutes to thrust a cup of fresh tea in her hands and a nice pillow behind her back. They talked over one another, joked, and generally milled about.

As the group calmed down, questions started to emerge to the surface.

“So, Virria?” Nhaerria spoke up. “What exactly happened with the Law? We know that you accepted a temporary contract, but nothing else.”

The air in the room buzzed with tension as every ear turned to Virria. She was surprised at the blunt question, but took a moment to reorganise her thoughts.

“I don't know how much I can tell you guys… the Law didn't really specify what I can or can't say.” She thought out loud. “Also, I think the Guild Master will want to hear from me as well, so we should probably wait for her.”

“Oh come ooon!” Maeli whined. “Can't you tell us anything? Do you know how many guesses we came up with?!”

It seemed that that was a secret, since everyone else in the room reached out to slap their party mage.

“Maeli!” Barteool yelled in mock offence as he reached for Maeli's shoulder. “We had a verbal agreement that we would not pressure her!”

“Sorry, sorry. I just couldn't help myself.” Maeli raised all four of his arms in the air. “It's so rare to talk to someone who was in contact with a Law.”

“Well it won't be so rare any more, will it?” Virria smiled at him mischievously. “Since Aragami was not only in contact with one, but is actively contracted to one.”

The revelation made everyone freeze on the spot. Maeli stared at her, his jaw agape, Nhaerria pressed her hands to her mouth and Moti had a spit-take of his tea.

Virria, confused by her friends’ reaction, asked the only thing that came to her mind. “What? Didn't Barteool tell you?”

Every eye in the room turned to their group leader, who was obviously very uncomfortable being put on the spot like that.

“Well… ummm… Wait a second. I can explain…” He stammered as he did his best to catch Nhaerria's arms raining down on his shoulders.

In the heat of the moment, no-one noticed the soft click of a lock, or the main doors to their holding cell opening on its well-oiled hinges. That is why they were all surprised when they heard the voice of their Guild Master from behind them.

“He did not tell any of you because I asked him not to tell you.” The group slightly jumped at the intrusion and, as one, turned to the door, where they saw Guild Master Zaanta, Battering Ram Ghanna, and Barrier Mage Tiina standing with smug looks on their faces.

“Guild Master!” yelled Nhaerria, being the first one to greet their unexpected guests. “We did not expect you! Would you like some tea? We have a delicious berry mix ready to be served.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you.” Zaanta nodded to the sandy Raakteig.

“I'll have some too, if I may?” Tiina raised her hand.

“Certainly! Please sit down. I'll bring it right away.” Nhaerria nodded and turned to Ghanna. “And what can I bring to you, miss Ghanna?”

“No need to worry about me. I had some water before coming here.” Ghanna nodded and followed her boss to the sofa.

“Very well.” Nhaerria nodded and ran off to fetch a couple of teacups.

“Forgive our intrusion. We were informed that there was a commotion in here and we figured we'd stop by before heading out.” Zaanta said as she sat down in a corner.

“It's your house, not ours.” Daente joked and sipped his tea. “We are lucky you are not making us pay for using the rooms.

“You know what? That's a good idea.” Tiina muttered aloud, as she received a steaming cup from Nhaerria. “We should have them pay us rent. After all, all this wear on the furniture and floors, as well as you using up air…” She stopped when she saw the horrified expression on Daente's face.

She basked in the horrified expressions that appeared on everyone's faces before she couldn't hold her laughter down anymore. “I'm just messing with you! We wouldn't do that!” She laughed and sipped the tea. “This room is for information gathering, not for rent.”

“Please don't scare us like that!” Nhaerria acted offended. “Next time you do that I won't be offering any tea!”

“Oh my! We can't have that!” Tiina yelled and grasped the cup with both hands. “I won't let you take this away from me!”

“Why would she want that?! You already drank from it.” Ghanna murmured just loud enough for everyone to hear, receiving a couple of snickers from across the room.

That seemed to break the remaining tension in the room as everyone relaxed.

Virria looked over at her comrades, finally relaxing in their chairs. 'Good old banter. Never fails to make us relax.’ She sipped some of her tea and let the warm feeling spread through her body.

“This tea is delicious, Nhaerria! You have to tell me how to make it!”

“That is my family recipe, miss Zaanta. I am willing to sell you some actual tea, but not the information about the mixture.”

“As stubborn as ever. I guess I'll have to take you up on that offer then.” The Guild Master took another sip before setting the teacup onto the desk in front of her.

“Now, to the main reason for our visit.” She said in a serious tone, her eyes locking onto Virria. “I believe there is no need to tell you why I came here personally, correct?”

“Yes, Guild Master.” Virria nodded and took another sip. “Although, I would appreciate any pointers to the main information you would like to know.”

“Anything you could tell us about the Law, as well as the deal you accepted.” Zaanta said bluntly.

“I see. I am afraid I will not be able to tell you a lot about the Law. I did not see any figure when it interacted with me, I couldn't sense any element it might have possessed, and I am not sure if I am allowed to share the name it told me to address it with.”

Her words drew the attention of everyone in the room. Maeli and Tiina pulled out notepads and writing utensils to record her words, while the rest of the group just listened intently.

“When I touched the crystal, I could hear its voice and feel its presence emanating from Aragami, but it was faint, as if just a small portion of its consciousness was focused onto me.”

“How did the voice sound?” Tiina asked and Virria realised she was staring a hole into the opposite wall.

“I would say it sounded really… old. Almost ancient. A deep, melodic voice with a ring of residual power.”

“So, a male voice then.” Maeli muttered and she nodded.

“Yes, that's probably how I would describe it.”

“How did you feel in its presence? Did you feel anything when it used its Mana?” Tiina questioned.

“I felt overwhelmed. Like it could crush me at any second if it wanted to, but…it pulled itself back to just barely reach me.”

“Probably an Elder Law then.” Tiina concluded.

“Possibly an Ancient?” Maeli countered.

“Will you two shut the fuck up?!” Zaanta snapped. “You are free to take notes and compare them afterwards, but stop interrupting!”

“We are very sorry.” Tiina immediately bowed her head without stopping her note writing. Maeli smacked one hand across his mouth and hid on the other side of the sofa.

After glaring for a second, Zaanta turned back to Virria with a slight smile. “Please continue. Anything you can remember is fine.”

Virria nodded and tried to determine where she left off. All the while, their words tugged on her mind. ‘An Elder Law? Weren't those just myths? And if not, what could be classified as Ancient?’

“Alright. So, when I touched the crystal, The Law started talking to me in a casual tone, dismissing my attempts at formality as a hassle. Instead, it proposed a deal.” Virria paused to collect her thoughts.

“It wanted to talk with You.” She looked Zaanta in the eyes and felt like she saw a hint of surprise. She could understand it. The thought of a Law, of all things, focused directly on her was disturbing.“But, since it didn't know our languages very well, it requested my knowledge of customs and language you would find… comfortable.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Ghanna whispered.

“Yeah.” Virria smiled. “Not how you expected a Law to think, is it?”

“Highly irregular,” the Guild Master nodded, sipping her tea. “Is there anything else you are willing to tell us?”

“Nothing in particular…” Virria thought out loud. “The Law read my surface thoughts and used my knowledge of the common language. It didn't teach me any new languages or talk to me about Aragami…”

“Would you say it didn't fulfill its part of the deal you've made?” Zaanta asked, leaning forward.

“Hardly.” Virria laughed and sipped her tea. “You have no idea what… No… The Law did for me. The knowledge I gained…” Virria stared off into the distance. “The knowledge I gained was… out of this world.”

The room went quiet as she said that. Maeli and Tiina both stiffened and looked up from their notes for what seemed like the first time. Nhaerria sat straighter, and The Guild Master furrowed her brows.

“Do you mean that literally, or just figuratively?” She asked, breaking the quiet of the room.

“I…” Vi...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Few_Zookeepergame105 on 2024-12-24 22:05:47+00:00.

---

"How many times a sol minute?"

"Anywhere from fifty to three thousand. About, uh, fifty thousand standard time."

"For how long?"

Karl paused. "Well, depends. This one," he indicated his upper forelimb, "Six sol hours." How long's that in standard time?"

"Too long."

He chuckled. "Well, like I said. Depends on what you get done. Pain tolerance. That sort of thing."

Ftk'al blinked wetly, stalks lowering to examine the coloured scars. "Do they display warnings? Are they tribal?"

Karl rubbed his mandible with one of the extended digits on his paws, and raised his upper abdominal joints in a gesture that supposedly showed ‘gentle unassuredness’, aka a 'shrug' .

“Not for everyone. Some people get them to look scary. Some get them to show their family history, or military units, things like that.”

Ftk’al used two of his eyes to look at Karl as the rest continued to examine the markings. “What do yours mean? You are a fearsome warrior, that is known. Do they document your victories?”

Karl made the noise of amusement amongst his kind, loud and quite frightening, like a war cry or berseker scream. When the din had subsided, and Ftk'al's stalks had extended from the safety of his carapace, he wiped his eyes. “No, nothing like that. “This one,” he pointed to his forearm, “Is my mother’s name.”

“In case you do not remember it?”

Karl chuckled and carried on, “This is my old marine regiment. This one,” he indicated another patch of vibrant skin, “Is the flag of my hometown.”

Ftk’al gestured towards an image of a fearsome looking animal, sharp hunter’s eyes, thick fur, a cunning look in the way it held its head. “What of this? Did you slay it?”

Karl looked at him, eye-topping hair-ridges raised. “You what? This thing? It’s my pet. His name is Fluffy.”

“Your pet?”

“He’s a cat.” Karl laughed again. “You guys are so weird.”

Ftk’al didn’t know what to say. “You pay hundreds of units to be stabbed by a mad stranger. You get bright images, the likes of which on my world would scream ‘predator’, and send us into shock. Why? Why do you torture yourself like this? We know your physical prowess. You do not need to display it. And you call me strange!"

Karl smiled, the semi-predatory grin that, apparently, displayed mirth or affection, and not a savage beast's warning. “I don’t know. I enjoy it. They’re not for you. They’re for me. They’re of things I treasure. Some of them are just of things I like. I’ve got one on my ass that says ‘your name’.”

“You have my name on your rear?”

“It’s an old joke. You wouldn’t get it.”

“There are a lot of things I do not get, Karl. So many things. And I do not think there is time in the universe for you to explain them to me.”

Karl shrugged again. “Hey, that’s how it is. Horses for courses, swings and roundabouts. Takes all sorts, dunnit.”

“Y… Yes?”

Karl slapped Ftk'al's carapace companionably, nearly toppling him. “you should think about getting one. Would look pretty sick with a tattoo or two!"

Ftk'al blanched."Why would you wish illness upon me? You are all unbearably strange."

Karl smiled again. "Like I said, takes all sorts mate, takes all sorts."

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Few_Zookeepergame105 on 2024-12-24 22:02:24+00:00.

---

The Overseer watched from a safe distance. Thousands of them had gathered at the shore, lying about, cooking, imbibing toxic fluids, and generally, apparently, having a 'good time'. "Do they not know of the radiation?"

Both Biologic and Anthropic floated nearby, watching the same scene as their master. They'd both been studying the humans for quite some time, and had begun to understand them, at least a little.

Anthropic spoke first, tendrils pointing to a group of younglings. "They seem to do this for recreation. In herd sizes ranging from two or four, to upwards of twenty and more. They often bring appliances for burning meats, flasks or metallic containers of etha-nol, diluted of course, and flavoured, and simply lay about."

Biologic added," Our chief adviser states that this is known as 'a holiday', sometimes a 'beach party'. "

" But why? What purpose does this serve? Do all humans do this? "

Biologic let Anthropic answer that one. "Well, yes and no. Some humans come from wetter, colder climates. They often travel to planets with warmer standard temperatures, for a week or longer, perhaps once or twice a Sol year."

"Are they basking, like the nacidovians do?"

"No, Overseer. Humans are warm blooded mammals. They do not wear thermo suits to regulate temperature in the same way cold blooded beings do."

Anthropic interjected, "Though they do dress according to external temperatures. Thicker clothes in the cold, less or lighter clothing in the heat."

"I see." He spoke to a passing human, voice broadcast through an external speaker, "Human, please answer my query. Are you aware of the risks of absorbing copious amounts of ultraviolet light on a biological being such as yourself?"

He paused, quizzical look on his face. "Well, yeah. We've been doing this for eons. Love a beer and a barbie on the beach."

"Are you from Earth originally?"

"That's right," he beamed at them. "Australia."

Biologic and Anthropic both sent the overseer their information on the southern country. The human continued, ignoring the overseer's surprised bleeps, "Down there, this is considered cold."

"Cold? You are aware that the sun here is closer to this planet than Sol is to Earth?"

The man shrugged, still smiling. "It is. But we've got suncream. Does the trick. Hey," he pulled a quartet of metallic cans from a satchel, "Fancy a beer?"

Biologic spoke, "We unfortunately cannot partake in the processing of biological substances. But thank you."

The can hissed as he cracked it, taking a swig. "No worries, more for me." He sauntered off, sipping his beer, joining a group that appeared to be playing some sort of game involving a flat, circular dish of plastic.

"They sit in the sun, becoming irradiated, dehydrating from ethanol ingestion, cooking themselves that result in cancers and burns, allow children to run about fully exposed. They do this for fun?"

"Indeed, Overseer." Biologic sent another data pack. "Though they do receive some natural benefits. There are certain vitamins and chemicals produced, much like photosynthesis in plant based life, that humans require."

"But they could receive these nutrients orally, or by injection, no?"

"Well," Anthropic spoke now, hesitating, "I belive I am correct in thinking that this is 'more fun'. Mammals appear to become more active in sunlight and warmth, report of feeling generally better, and seem more amicable than in winter time."

"It is almost as if they are natural solar batteries."

Biologic sent a string of ones and zeroes representing mirth. "My team and I have expressed the same idea, Overseer. It seems that their status as deathworlders has given them many odd physiological benefits."

"They are vulnerable to these benefits, however," Anthropic said. "They often abuse them, or overdo it, as the chief adviser would put it."

The overseer floated there, processing silently. Then, "How is Karl? I have not seen him in some time."

"He is off world, having a holiday."

"Where?"

"He is on an ice world at the moment."

The overseer groaned digitally. "You mean they also take holidays in extreme cold, as well?"

"Yes. And at great heights, subterranean locals, deep sea and on barren moons. I can send the full report over, along with Anthropic's entries on extreme sports, death defying, stunts, dangerous magics, and accounting."

"Accounting?"

"Yes, Overseer. It seems to be one of the most dangerous human pastimes. They are not geared towards maths, and it seems that sitting in a small space doing sums is very detrimental to their physical and mental health."

The Overseer broadcast a static buzz of disbelief." Utterly bizarre creatures. What sounds to us like paradise is their worst nightmare. It's times like this I wish we could drink. By all accounts it sounds like it helps. "

" Well, Overseer, I actually have interesting records on that-“

“No, Biologic, no. That's enough for now! "

" Very good. Then, if there's nothing else, I think I might go with Anthropic to study the humans up close. "

" You're going sun basking, aren't you? "

" It's sun bathing, actually. "

" Oh good. Well, that's fine. Enjoy yourself. You become more like them every day. It concerns us on the higher council that, one day, you may become too human. "

" No, Overseer, " Anthropic said cheerfully," No chance of that. "

" Why not? "

" Well," Biologic said, also cheerily, " Humans don't have the risk of getting sand in their servos, just catching various illnesses. We're much safer. "

" Until someone buries you in the sand."

"Oh, we didn't realise you were aware of that custom."

"By the universal circuits," swore the overseer, "Being buried alive for fun! Does their madness know no bounds?"

Biologic raised its tendrils in a worryingly close facsimile of a human shrug. "It seems not. Though it is fun!"

"Fun," the overseer hissed, "Is not for beings like us. Go, and mingle with the mad mammals down there."

He turned and left. When he was out of broadcast range, Biologic turned to Anthropic as they made their way towards the waves lapping the shore. "Do you think the Overseer is right? That we are becoming more human?"

"I think he's a moaning old bastard."

"A very human thing to say, Anthropic."

"Maybe. But it's a sentiment you agree with, yes?"

Biologic chuckled digitally again. "It is, my friend, it is. And you're right. He is a moaning old bastard. Let us go and try and have some fun."

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Few_Zookeepergame105 on 2024-12-24 21:44:21+00:00.

---

It was our fault.

We’d been trying to cure a terminal illness for our species. It was supposed to eliminate the disease from our genes, allow us to grow older but age slower, to increase our strength and intelligence.

The first mistake came in the labs. We were warned by the Tertiary Council of the risks, the dangers inherent in messing with DNA, the very building blocks of our being, but we ignored them. The promise of a better life for our children, and their children, to achieve a state of near immortality, to rise and take our place among the great space-faring races that controlled the stars, was too great.

A technician merely dropped a flask, containing the proto-genetic chemicals that were to be the base of our salvation. A simple case of their protective clothing being slightly wet. Condensation, perhaps. We do not know.

The chemical interacted almost instantly upon touching air, changing and vaporising almost immediately. The room was sterile, and air tight. The technicians died quickly and painfully.

That should have been all the warning we needed.

The room was purged, and a new effort was made to achieve the stability the chemical would need.

Months passed, teams of scientists across the globe working tirelessly, day in, day out.

We moved to biological trials. Started small. Bacteria, microbes.

The effects were immediate, and were exactly as we’d hoped. The organisms showed an extended life cycle, limited ageing, increased metabolism.

We moved onto larger creatures. Domestic animals. Livestock. Aside from some limited cases of stress, the creatures all exhibited the same traits as the microorganisms did.

We clapped ourselves on the backs, congratulated one another over expensive flasks of alcohol.

We moved to the final trials the next day.

The adult male was roughly average in size, weight. Nothing interesting in his back story . No previous convictions. No history of drug or alcohol abuse. No records of medication use, and no history of mental health issues.

A perfect tabula rasa for us to try and save our species with.

We proceeded to administer the serum intravenously, as we had before to the animals, and waited.

We kept him calm, sedated, and observed constantly.

After approximately two hours, we noticed changes to his heart rate. It slowed. His metabolism quickened. Things appeared to be going well.

He then began to sweat, profusely, and at a rate we were struggling to rehydrate him, even with a mainline directly into his vein.

Within an hour, his heart rate suddenly spiked. The sedation wore off. He awoke, and violently attacked one of the medical doctors.

Tore her throat out with his teeth.

There was so much blood.

A security team came in. I’d never seen anyone take a round before, at all. They shot him over fifty times.

He managed to scratch one guard and break the arm of another before they took him down.

When we studied the corpse we noticed some very odd things.

His blood had thickened. His cells had reproduced, like cancer, increasing their density but making them unstable, almost necrotic.

His pupils had contracted, and all of the fine capillaries had burst, presumably due to the semi coagulated blood.

We were going to open him up, examine his brain, but an alarm called us away.

An emergency, code blue.

Several of us ran to the source of the alarm, but…

It spread quickly. Within an hour, the entire medical centre had been infected. In a day it had spread to the entire district. Whole towns fell, and the military’s attempts to quarantine utterly failed. I barely escaped with my life. We... Never mind.

We had accidentally unleashed the most virulent, utterly savage disease our world had ever seen.

We prayed to our gods, said goodbye to our loved ones, and awaited the inevitable.

Then they came. Great transports, thousands of them, dropping soldiers into the centres of the most heavily infected areas.

Armed with projectile weapons, armoured in plasteel and wearing heavy duty respirators, they cut impressive figures as they dropped.

We watched from our safe rooms and the last few uninfected places as they moved in, brutal, efficient, calm. They mowed the swarms down, using well placed headshots to kill, doing with one shot what had taken us fifty or more rounds.

I met one of them, once. It was a female. Tall, very tall, but lithe, agile. She moved like a predator. They were beautiful, you know. When she removed her respirator to talk to us, I was reminded of the old stories. The ones your grandsires told you about. Of elves, graceful beings, equal parts indomitable warriors and artful muses.

She told me not to worry. That other species had made the same mistakes.

Her own, in fact. She said that on her world, such plagues had been written about for hundreds of years. She got embarrassed. Turns out the pandemic on her world was caused on purpose, by some lunatic who wished to usher in an apocalypse.

They had the country cleared within the week.

They were gone as soon as the job was done.

And now we realise that, for our genetic faults, we have nothing to worry about.

Her race, the elves, have had more than their share of the same trials we face. The same illnesses, disasters. The same struggle to be accepted by the Tertiary Council.

And now they run it. Galactic peacekeepers, the strongest force in the universe. Pioneers of science, peerless in war, and unmatched in the arts.

They saved us.

Her name? Gloria. I think it means ‘victory’.

That’s how they are. Their names declare their intent, the way they live. We are forever in debt to them.

Their real name? Humanity.

My name for them? The Angels.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ralo_ramone on 2024-12-24 20:59:38+00:00.

---

The orc caravan walked for two days without stopping for rest. The Energy Potion carried me through the first day of marching, but the effect dissipated by the second night. I must’ve collapsed in the middle of the road because when I opened my eyes, I saw I had been loaded into a cart with the wounded. Kara walked by the cart’s side, casting worried glances at me. It was still night, and [Foresight]’s inner clock informed me that only a few hours had passed. 

Thanks to [Invigoration], I needed only four hours of sleep, so I played it cool and resumed walking.

The Teal Moon tribe led the caravan along the hidden road through the western face of the mountain range until we reached the caves. It wasn’t the same entrance that Elincia and I had used back when the Lich’s freezing spell almost turned us into popsicles. My inner GPS told me we were northwest of the hidden valley, while Elincia had guided me through the east. The collapsed passage must have been on the northern side.

With only two narrow entrances to defend, the tribe would be okay if a monster army appeared.

Traversing the cave system took the caravan another day. The caves only allowed one cart to enter at any time, so the rear of the caravan had to wait. Luckily, there were almost no monsters in the area. When we finally reached the inner valley, the camp was already up. 

I noticed a clear partition where the Teal Moon camp started. 

“Together but not united,” I muttered to myself.

Most orcs must’ve been resting inside the tents because the camp seemed empty. As resilient as they were, orcs still needed rest. However, as soon as we exited the cave system, Dassyra and the other two Teal Moon Chieftains approached Wolf. 

“The guests can’t stay—” the third Chieftain, whose name I ignored, started to say.

“I will deal with that later. I need rest.”

“But—”

Wolf’s character drastically changed when he dealt with his chieftains. Any trace of the half-orc boy that crumbled to the pressure of the little ones disappeared. Instead, I saw a stoic leader—and a cunning one.

“A healthy brain requires seven to nine hours of sleep to function properly. Lack of sleep impairs problem-solving, focus, and decision-making, Chieftain Sennay. I will rest now,” Wolf cut him off, wandering into the Teal Moon camp.

The chieftain looked at Wolf with a puzzled expression. It was the same expression I evoked in kids when I used too many technical words in my classes.

“He’s using your confusion spells against the chieftains,” Ilya pointed out.

Wolf played his part to perfection, but he was still in danger. He was young, practically a foreigner for the tribe, and had too much to prove. Still, he did a marvelous job keeping the complaints to a minimum. Once they snowballed, it would be hard to stop them.

I signaled Ginz and the kids to gather around me.

“I need you to look after Wolf while I figure things out with the free orcs. We might have escaped the Lich’s forces for now, but the tension remains high. Wolf is being tested as we speak. One misstep, and he is out,” I whispered. “I want you to accompany him everywhere. I want you to watch his back even when he’s taking a leak.”

Firana giggled, probably thinking about making Wolf’s ‘sprinkle time’ impossible. 

“Who would’ve thought our Wolfie would become such an important figure,” Firana said, hardly hiding her mischievous smile.

Ilya rolled her eyes.

“We saved you from your abusive uncle, and now Wolf is in charge of a band of six hundred orcs. What’s next? Zaon being kidnapped by a dragon?”

Zaon shuddered.

“Please don’t summon Murphy on me.”

“You are talking like Mister Clarke now.”

Zaon blushed.

“Enough banter,” I cut them off. “Go watch over Wolf and tell him I will try to buy the goodwill of the tribes. Tell them to be prepared for news.”

More than anything, Wolf needed allies to stabilize the situation. So far, he had Dassyra’s loyalty, but I couldn’t say the same for Callaid and the chieftain’s men. Even if the warriors from the outer camp weren’t as strong as the Teal Moon warriors, five hundred swords would ease the tension on Wolf’s shoulders.

“Let’s protect our green princess,” Firana said.

“Just don’t let the chieftains hear you calling Wolf that,” Ilya replied.

“What about me?” Ginz asked as the kids walked to the Teal Moon camp.

“I’m going to tempt the elders with guns. Prepare three to give them a taste.”

As soon as we departed, the elders from the outer camp invited me to the central tent on their side of the camp. For the past two days, I’ve been talking on and off with the chieftains and elders of the tribes. As pragmatic as orcs were, they were also curious. It almost felt like a job interview, with the caveat that I had already gotten the job.

I told them about child psychology, group behavior, leadership, early education, the common good, and everything else I’d learned at university. I told them about how different things were in practice. No book had taught me how to follow the individual lives of hundreds of kids year after year, about all the improvisation, about knowing when to pull and when to push. I even made it sound like I was a guy who knew exactly what was going on. 

It was unclear if they were satisfied with my answers. My life was the opposite of the orc warrior experience. 

The elders guided me into the main tent with Kara and Pyrrah as my escort. Hallas decided that assisting an orc meeting was below him, so he went to scout the valley. He was more worried about the Warden’s Tree than petty politics. 

Kara opened the beaded curtain that acted as a door, and I entered the elder’s tent. 

The tent was made of thin fabric that let the light through. In the center was an elongated fire pit, like a Viking great hall. On each side of the fire pit was a low table with a dozen cushion-seats each. Elders and chieftains took their places on the floor until only the head was empty.

Elder Kormak, the old orc who had supported me from the beginning, signaled for me to sit. I obeyed, but despite my place of honor, I couldn’t help but feel anxious. Kara sat to my right, slightly behind me, and Pyrrah to my left.

Elder Kormak asked for silence. He had been the one who had talked with me the most, so naturally, I had also inquired about his life. He led the most prominent tribe in the outer camp, the Falling Leaves. Over the years, he had gained renown among the northern tribes due to his martial prowess and wisdom. He liked to joke, saying age had shrunk him, but he was still above six feet tall. He never liked the idea of a fortified city, as permanent settlements attracted monsters, and he was reluctant to join Umolo’s pact.

Time proved Kormak right, but the old orc was still a riddle for me. I could tell he was smart.

“Let’s continue our conversation, Warchief Clarke,” Elder Kormak said. “I think we were talking about tradition.”

The elders and chieftains fell silent, and I couldn’t help but feel that this was a test.

“Tradition helps people not to stumble upon the same rock twice,” I said.

A few orcs agreed. Others remained indifferent.

“Tradition can also force people to stumble upon the same rock over and over again, or worse, tradition might be blind to the new rocks on the way,” Kormak replied with a smile. “Even a fool can see that times change. An observant person can see the direction of the changes. But only a smart leader can determine the optimal way to steer the carriage.”

It wasn’t hard to guess where the conversation was going. I was able to set a defense for the camp, but the orcs wanted to know if I could ensure the tribe’s future survival.

I decided to push back.

“So, the Greyfangs decided to change the nomadic tradition and build Umolo, but they are idiots for doing it?”

“Tradition must evolve, yes, but Umolo was a stupid idea,” Kormak shrugged.

“And appointing a foreign System user as your Warchief is a smart idea?”

Kormak shrugged again.

“We’ve noticed things. Since your arrival, the Teal Moon warriors started killing Ghouls like mice. So I say getting you on our side was a brilliant idea.”

I nodded. The more I talked to Kormar, the more I understood the orc mind. Orcs had a sole moral imperative: survive. What helped them survive was considered good, and what endangered the tribe was considered wrong. Their tradition was to have no tradition other than actions and ideas that helped their people thrive in the Farlands.

Appointing a foreigner as a Warchief wasn’t out of the question.

Elder Kormark spoke again.

“Don’t get me wrong. A decade ago, we wouldn’t have let a System user anywhere near our tribe… but things had changed. Monsters are more vicious, and surges are more common than ever. If you want to survive, you must move fast,” he said. “So, Warchief, where are we going now?”

The council examined my reaction, trying to determine whether I was about to have a brilliant or stupid idea. I felt Elder Kormak had driven me into a corner, but I couldn’t tell why.

“I have a lot of ideas that probably can’t be done,” I replied.

Kormak must’ve misunderstood my words because he shook his head.

“Fortifications are useless against the most powerful monsters. They might give the illusion of safety but are mouse traps in the end.”

As cool as a star fortress was, I wasn’t planning to build one. The problem of the small tribes was their lack of unity. Not even the strongest wall could keep the Lich and his army outside. Howev...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1hlmeeo/an_otherworldly_scholar_litrpg_isekai_chapter_180/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Lanzen_Jars on 2024-12-24 20:02:37+00:00.

---

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

A/N: In case you missed it, this is a two parter. Find the first part here:

[Part A]

--

Part B

Shida's left grabbed the front of her shirt in a tight hold, while her right balled into a fist, holding something similarly soft thought slightly sturdier squeezed between its fingers.

She inhaled briefly and let the air out briskly; clenching her eyes shut for only a moment as she fought down her nervousness.

In all honesty, she was still extremely nervous, even as she let go of her shirt a moment later and smoothed it out with a few strokes of her hand to not look completely disheveled for the upcoming meeting.

However, she had made a promise to herself. A promise that she would be strong for this. A promise that she wouldn't let this be another thing she would allow to be ruined through some freak mix of incomprehensible emotions in her stomach.

She wanted this to be on eye-level. She wanted this to be honest. She wanted this...

With another inhale and exhale, she removed her left from her chest completely, using it to quickly gesture orders to the screen before her.

After her request, Koko had worked...scarily quickly. To the point where Shida didn't even want to know every string the Commander had pulled to make this happen as soon as she had. However, she was not going to complain.

Honestly, it would've probably made things much worse if she had gotten any more time to get into her own head about this. The urge for this meeting had arisen all of a sudden, and it was probably better if she was thrown into it just as suddenly as well.

And now, thanks to Koko's apparent witchcraft...the person she wanted to talk to was already on hold, just waiting for Shida to finally put her on.

It was time.

With her right hand clutching even tighter around the crumpled fabric, she activated the call with her left, allowing the screen to jump from the 'incoming call' window to the active camera feed of the person on the other end of the line.

Shida's eyes twinkled as they first fell upon the ever-familiar, purple exoskeleton, glistening with a metallic sheen in the dim light of the G.E.S.-32's bridge.

The feed's background was filled with movement as all manner of people stood at their respective stations in the distance, working away at the many screens that were the only source of light in the dark, rounded room.

Shida knew that the same picture would continue all the way around the entire bridge in a ring, leaving the people in the ring-shaped, ceiling-less room able to look 'up' at the people who were seemingly upside down on the other side of it.

She remembered her own time toiling away in front of many of those screens...

Though although all those memories flashed through her mind at an instant as the picture appeared on her screen, they didn't last more than a moment as both her eyes and mind quickly settled on the person that was actually right in front of the camera.

The tall pillar that made up most of her body was pointing straight up, showing off its deep segmentation as shadow and light plaid across its curvature with each gentle movement her body made.

Ten of the twelve flexible limbs that sprouted out of the slightly larger segment in the middle of her body were planted firmly on the ground, while the last two, which were positioned on the exact opposite sides of each other, were slightly raised, bending around to press their segmented manipulators against each other.

The three of her four green, crystal-shaped compound eyes that Shida could see from the current angle were still and unmoving as always, and yet the feline still imagined that she could see a sort of...anticipation hiding behind them. Admittedly, that may have just been wishful thinking.

Still, with a quick glitter of light flashing across her reflective surface, Division Officer Nahlzahm finally made a more clearly intentional motion as she seemed to process that the picture in front of her had changed.

The two pressed-together graspers separated as she swiftly swung them in deliberate movements, quickly conveying a message to Shida.

'It is good to see you, Lieutenant-Commander,' the DO signed in a polite manner, before then tilting her stiff body forwards a slight bit to indicate her respect.

Shida briefly felt her throat tightening, threatening to choke her up before she had even gotten her first words out. However, she forced the feeling back with a heavy swallow as she pulled all her focus together.

That way, her voice was only slightly croakey as she opened her mouth to say,

“Oh, uh...technically, I am not a Lieutenant-Commander right now, Ma'am.”

Her tone was awkward and she quickly cleared her throat as she realized how she sounded. As if it wasn't strange enough already to talk to Nahlzahm while technically outranking her – honestly Shida was glad the DO had gone for her rank instead of 'Ma'am'-ing her – of course this had to happen at a time when she would have to admit that said outranking was currently...on hold.

She briefly bit her lip to fight down another wave of awkwardness while Nahlzahm slowly lifted her body up straight again so her stiff eyes could look at Shida more easily.

'How come?' she asked quite quickly. To many, it would have seemed like not much had changed about her demeanor since there really wasn't a lot to give it away. However, Shida knew the woman well enough to tell just from the way her arms moved that, had Nahlzahm's eyes been able to narrow, they would have done just that in that moment.

And the tingly feeling that crawled down Shida's back was immediate. Clearing her throat one more time, she spoke up again.

“I have been...sort of...suspended from service,” she admitted.

There was a brief moment in which Nahlzahm simply stood there, her limbs frozen in their movement for a second as she processed what she heard.

But it really did last only a second, as her limbs soon found their groove again.

'Why am I not surprised?' they swiftly signed in smooth motions. And although her face could not show off any readable emotions, Shida could taste the sass in her question.

However, it was a good-natured sass, without any sense of being malicious. Although her skin still tingled, Shida began to smile softly.

'Was it the Commander who reached out to me?' Nahlzahm half-asked half-suspected, briefly switching up the legs she was using to sign in a smooth exchange.

How the DO signed heavily depended on who she was talking to. If she didn't know someone well, she generally stuck to two legs, in order to not make following what she was saying unnecessarily confusing.

But with Shida, he had always used whichever leg was comfortable at the time while the feline was still serving under her. And it seemed like she still had not the slightest worries about Shida keeping up.

“Are you a mind reader now?” Shida asked with a slightly lightening mood.

'No. But she sounded worried about you,' Nahlzahm replied directly.

Shida nodded. Her tail began to swish behind her as she looked down for a moment.

“I'm...” she began to say, but interrupted herself with a sigh, not quite sure how she even wanted to put it – and how much she actually wanted to tell. However, as she raised her eyes up to directly look at the screen once more, she couldn't help but cave entirely as her gaze found one of those green diamonds. “I don't know what's going on with me,” she said in a slightly breathless voice, focusing on keeping it together as she spoke and thus surrendering some of the control she had over her tone. “I just...can't get myself under control. I've done a bunch of stupid things. And every time I tell myself I'm going to stop, it just happens again before I even notice it.”

She reached her hand up to rub over her eye, only to feel the soft feeling of fabric press against her face as she had inadvertently used the hand she was still clutching the white ball of cloth in.

Nahlzahm looked back at her for a long moment, observing how Shida looked down at what she held in her hand.

White with yellow accents. It was the uniform the Division Officer herself hand given to Shida during their last meeting.

“I just don't know what happened,” Shida said again, her face heating up as she looked at her old uniform. Her hand trembled slightly. Why had she wanted this? Letting Nahlzahm see her like this...and bringing the damn uniform with her.

Surely this wasn't what Nahlzahm had in mind when she handed the thing to her. When she still wore this uniform, the galactic uniform, she hadn't been like this. She hadn't been this...stupid. In the service of the Galaxy, she had been held back for so long, running place forever as she chased her ultimate goal, and it had made her so angry when she had first realized that.

But maybe...maybe it had been right.

Her gaze snapped up when she realized Nahlzahm was moving again, quickly focusing to not miss what the woman was saying.

'I know what happened,' Nahlzahm stated in swift signs. 'You forgot.'

Shida's burning eyes blinked as she...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1hllc17/a_job_for_a_deathworlder_chapter_199_b/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Lanzen_Jars on 2024-12-24 19:58:21+00:00.

---

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

[Part B]

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all who celebrate! Been a while since we had one of these, but I could not get it shorter today, so this will be a two parter. Once the second part is up, I will hopefully be able to edit in the link to it because this will be a short post. Hope you enjoy!

--

Chapter 199 – Through love, we shall...

Part A

James scowled as his leg nervously bobbed up and down at rapid speeds. He released a deep sigh and glanced around, looking for a clock or any other way to tell the time. He didn't find any. Just how long had he been here? It felt like...well he didn't even know at this point. Hours? Days? Surely it couldn't have been that long. However, his sense for time was all out of whack.

And that wasn't the only thing. His head felt like it was...swimming somehow. Both metaphorically and literally. He felt floaty. As if his head was moving on its own instead of being carried by his neck.

Probably aftereffects of...uh...of...

He reached up to rub his head, trying to remember. Something had happened, didn't it? Damn it, the nervousness was messing with his head more than he anticipated.

He looked around again. Still no clock, go figure.

Left and right of him, the room was pretty much empty. Perfectly blank walls on all sides. Only the row of welded-together chairs he was sitting on broke up the monotony. Even the ceiling was completely gray and smooth.

His leg was still bobbing aggressively as he leaned back and released a low breath. He had wanted to sigh, but apparently he hadn't quite done it right because the sound that reached his ear didn't fit with that at all.

A bit irritated from failing at something as simple as sighing he tried again – to similar results as before.

He scowled deeply, pushing up a little as she wondered what was going on, when his attention was suddenly caught by movement in the corner of his vision.

He blinked as he looked at the man who had so suddenly appeared next to him, tensing to be on his guard at first. However, as he took in the familiar visage of the new arrival, his shoulders gradually relaxed – though a little bit of tension remained while his eye caught the flashing of a golden symbol hanging around the man's neck.

“Father Maxwell...” James murmured as he sat up a bit straighter to greet the man. “What are you doing here?”

Father Maxwell looked exactly how James remembered the man. He was tall and willowy. The pale and almost slightly gray skin of his flat face was painted with deep lines, despite his relatively young age. Round, frame-less glasses sat on his small nose and constantly slid down a little too much to be practical, while his jaw-length, dirty-blonde hair hung around his head like curtains in a bob cut.

He was dressed a long, black coat made of an almost canvas-like material, which covered any other clothes he may have worn underneath it entirely. That was, of course, except for the golden, star-framed cross around his neck.

Despite his almost scary appearance, Father Maxwell had the same old smile on his face that he always did whenever he had greeted James when he came by after his studies in the past.

“I was asked to serve as your spiritual guide during these trying times,” he replied openly as he walked over to James in a slow, almost floating manner. Once he was only a step away, he made a wide gesture with his arm that was accentuated by his sleeve, which was way too wide and hung off the spindly limb. Though, instead of swinging around, it seemed to be quite stiff, simply making his arm look wider as the light quickly disappeared down its dark opening. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

James nodded.

“I'm not part of the church anymore,” he reminded, though as he tried to recall the time he had left the religion, his memories turned fuzzy for a moment.

Father Maxwell slid into the chair next to him in a ghostly manner, sitting very straight and keeping his hands firmly on his knees.

“Nobody ever truly leaves,” Maxwell said in a calm and reassuring tone. “Or, more precisely, I would not forsake one of mine whether they are believers or not.”

“Maybe you should. After all, I'm a Saint now,” James countered a bit sarcastically as he scooted to the side, though it barely felt like it was putting any distance between him and the priest.

Maxwell released another gentle chuckle.

“Then it will be my honor to sit with you, Saint Aldwin,” he replied and gave a mild bow of his head. “Truly the way you have come is astounding.”

James found himself a bit disarmed by the priest's familiar manner of speaking, and he couldn't help but smirk as Maxwell had to reach up to push his glasses back on his nose.

“I have missed much in the years since you left, it seems,” he then stated and crossed his arms on his lap, still looking straight ahead instead of making eye-contact with James.

“Yeah, a lot has happened,” James said and reached up to scratch his face.

“It is good to see that you have still not forgotten to walk your own path,” Maxwell mused and titled his head back into his neck to seemingly look up, though his eyes were closed. “It is an honorable thing you are doing here.”

James sighed and sunk into himself a bit, laying his elbows onto his knees as he put his weight forwards onto them.

“Just...practicing what I preach, I suppose,” he remarked under his breath.

“Now, you know what we think of preachers, James,” Maxwell admonished him in a playfully scolding tone.

“Hypocrite,” James countered without missing a beat, causing both men to laugh for a few seconds.

Though after a few moments, the corner's of James' mouth slowly sunk down again.

Something didn't sit right with him. They had that exchange often, and they laughed about it every time. Yet somehow, right now, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I...don't need any guidance,” he stated without truly knowing where that just came from.

Maxwell finally glanced over to him, almost curiously. There was a slight gleam in his light-brown eyes as he scrutinized James with his gaze.

“You don't?” he questioned outright, lifting his head to really look at the man next to him. “I don't mean to offend, James, but you are sitting all alone in the waiting area of a detention facility, just biding your time until you are locked away. You seem like a man in need of guidance to me.”

James' scowl deepened. Why did those words irk him so damn much?

“Not my first time being arrested,” he countered with a slightly dismissive tone.

“But your first time turning yourself in,” Maxwell retorted. “A lot scarier than just being overwhelmed and taken away. You have to take the plunge yourself.”

James scoffed mildly.

“I jump out of space-ships,” he said with false confidence.

“You've done that dozens of times,” Maxwell replied.

James sighed again, his irritation rising even more. He clenched his fist. He couldn't put his finger on why, but despite his brief relief to see the priest, he now just wanted him gone.

“I said I do not need or want your service,” he stated firmly, sitting up to look around. There had to be guards or something, right?

Blank walls on all sides. Damn it. Apparently, no luck. Where had the guards gone who had brought him in here? Guards...had to have brought him in here, right?

Suddenly, James felt a touch on his knee, instantly swatting it away. He glared over at the priest, who quickly raised both his hands in a surrendering motion.

“James,” he said in a tone that was at the same time calm and worried...and infuriating. “What has gotten into you?”

James wished he knew. He reached up to rub his head again, his brain still feeling like it was swimming in a bowl.

“I couldn't tell you,” he answered honestly. “I guess...a lot has happened.”

Maxwell smiled at him, once again pushing his glasses up.

“Why don't you relax for a moment?” he suggested, putting his hands back onto his own legs. “Those breathing exercises you were taught in the military. You still know those, right? Why don't we try it? It might help you clear your head.”

Although he was still inexplicably pissed off, James nodded and inhaled deeply. Father Maxwell hadn't led him wrong before...had he?

In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold. In control.

He repeated it a couple of times while trying to focus on the 'sphere' of his inner world; trying his best to smooth it out. Get it perfectly round. Address the edges and bumps that had formed.

Next to him, Father Maxwell appeared to be doing the exercises with him, though James' head was a bit too fuzzy to hear if he was doing it right or not; not really registering the man's breath at all. Back in the day, Maxwell had made it a habit to cheat a bit whenever he and James had done exercises such as this one.

As he remembered that, a new flash of unexplained irritation zapped through James.

Once he was done breathing, James looked down at his hands. He had brought them together. He held the thumb of his right hand between the index-finger and thumb of the...

---

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1hll8tf/a_job_for_a_deathworlder_chapter_199_a/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Drunkgamer4000 on 2024-12-24 18:48:31+00:00.

---

Over countless millennia, humanity has proven itself the organism most adept at killing its own kind. This grim talent, etched deep into the marrow of its history, persists unchanged. Should you ever encounter something better at war than a human, odds are it was a human—either cloaked beneath a façade or imbued with the indomitable human soul. Yet, for all its storied legacy of violence, one enigma has long perplexed the Imperium of Man: the decision of the Council of Xenos to classify humanity as a "protected species."

The Council, composed of representatives from the galaxy’s most ancient and powerful races, deemed humanity far too fragile for the horrors of war. To them, humans were not warriors, but caretakers of tools they could scarcely understand. They envisioned humans as traders, diplomats, and laborers—roles deemed “befitting their limited capabilities.” Soldiers? Never. Warriors? Certainly not.

To the elder races, humanity was a flickering anomaly—an industrious footnote destined to play a supporting role in the grand galactic narrative. Saddling such a delicate species with the burdens of conquest or defense seemed not just unwise, but cruel. In their eyes, humanity’s chaotic history of conflict was a relic of their planetary adolescence, not a harbinger of their potential.

The Imperium of Man, however, did not respond with wounded pride or defiance. Instead, they accepted the designation with a peculiar mixture of humility and curiosity. The decision was a dismissal, but also an opportunity. And so, the Imperium agreed—on one condition:

"Any and all Council members must treat humanity as an equal, with the full rights and consequences of equality—including the capacity to wage war or be warred upon."

The clause, buried deep within reams of agreements, was dismissed as a curious flourish, a whimsical request from an over-eager species. The Council, bemused by the audacity of this fledgling race, agreed without hesitation.

After all, how could such a naive species hope to wield the tools of power effectively? Humanity’s ambition would surely outpace its ability, and in time, their naivety would prove their undoing.

They could not have been more wrong.

The misunderstanding became tragically evident when the Q’lonvon Empire declared war on the Imperium of Man.

The Q’lonvon were an apex predator species, a nightmare rendered in chitin and muscle. Towering insectoid behemoths, their razor-edged limbs could cleave through steel, their exoskeletons impervious to most known weaponry. Clouds of toxic nitrogen spewed from their glands, suffocating anything foolish enough to engage them in close quarters. They were engineered for domination, and conquest was etched into their genetic code.

When they turned their gaze upon humanity, they saw only a weak and unremarkable species—a target ripe for plunder. The Solar System, with its nascent colonies and burgeoning industries, was little more than an appetizer.

The war began with precision orbital strikes. Planets burned, billions died, and the stars themselves seemed to echo the screams of the dying. In mere weeks, humanity’s outer colonies were rendered lifeless husks, shattered monuments to Q’lonvon supremacy.

The Council of Xenos convened an emergency session, expecting humanity’s representatives to arrive in desperation, pleading for aid. Surely the "protected species" now understood their place.

But humanity did not plead.

They arrived in silence. No cries for mercy, no appeals for protection. They stood, nodded once, and left the chamber without a word.

What followed was not a counterattack—it was annihilation.

The Imperium’s fleets descended upon Q’lonvon territory with a fury the galaxy had never witnessed. Humanity’s warships, sleek and bristling with weapons, tore through the invaders’ defenses with brutal efficiency. Kinetic weapons shattered planets, railguns hurled projectiles with the force of extinction events, and orbital bombardments rendered entire worlds uninhabitable.

The Q’lonvon’s biological advantages—once insurmountable—were dissected and nullified with terrifying speed. Humanity’s bioweapons turned their exoskeletons into rotting prisons, while adaptive nanotechnology neutralized their toxic gases. The predators became prey, hunted with cold, merciless precision.

Entire planets fell in days. Those too fortified to conquer were not spared but erased, transformed into singularities by humanity’s most horrifying weapons. Where the Q’lonvon sought domination, humanity delivered extinction.

By the end, the Q’lonvon were driven back to their homeworld, a once-proud empire reduced to ash and desperation. Humanity, victorious, did not pause to celebrate. They finished what had been started, ensuring the Q’lonvon’s annihilation with a cold, methodical efficiency that left the galaxy trembling.

The Council of Xenos, watching from afar, was forced to confront the magnitude of their error. The "protected species" had revealed its true nature. Humanity was not a harmless anomaly—it was a weapon honed by eons of self-destruction, its potential masked by humility and misdirection.

The galaxy was terrified. The stories spread like wildfire: humanity was not a species to be ignored or underestimated. They were a force of nature, an extinction event in the shape of a smile.

And humanity? Humanity was happy. For the first time, the universe had seen them for what they truly were, and the revelation filled them with grim satisfaction.

The lesson, etched into the stars, was one the galaxy would never forget:

The monsters you fear most don’t hide in shadows or distant systems. They sit across from you, patient and smiling, waiting for the moment you mistake their humility for weakness.

And humanity was smiling still. For they had found their purpose in the ashes of war and had discovered the unsettling truth that brought them joy:

The universe was scared, and they were happy about it.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Schmitty70 on 2024-12-24 10:46:46+00:00.

---

In the beginning, the four gods made the world. Vaan the Hearth. God of fire, metal, and creation, brought forth the land, waters, and sky with his mighty hammer. Pasran the Wandering Horizon. God of the night, desire, and knowledge, wove the laws of the universe into its fabric and spread her gem studded cloak across the sky to become the cosmos. Rin the Radiant. God of the sun, nature, and magic, imbued the land with her breath and sprouted the grass, trees, animals, and the spirits that reside in them. And finally, Zenrith the King of Blades. God of the dead, judgement, and rebirth, carved the cycle of life and death into the foundation of all life. The four gods saw the world, and saw that it was good.

With the world finished, it came time to create a people to inhabit it, but the gods could not decide. Vaan wanted them to be industrious and create many great works across the land, for that was why he created the land. Pasran wanted them to simply discover the secrets of the world and beyond, for that was why she had laid down her cloak. Rin wanted a mystical people who would live as one with her other creations for eternity, for that was why she had given them life. And Zenrith wished for a chaotic people who would be forever changing, for that was what he believed should be the nature of life.

Eventually, the gods separated and each made their own people. Vaan left for the vast mountains of the west and created the Dwarves, who he gifted the creative ambition of himself as well as the strength and skills to bring them about. Pasran went to the great deserts of the south and created the Beastkin, gifting them superior senses to observe the world with and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and wanderlust. Rin settled in the dense rain forests of the west and created the Elves and gifted them the ability to wield magic and spirits like a part of themselves. And Zenrith claimed the land in the center of them all and created the Humans, who he gave powerful emotions and an indomitable spirit, but also far shorter lives compared to the other races.

Over time, the races developed into civilisations and acted out their creators wills.The Dwarves dug great strongholds into the mountains and developed the most advanced technology in the land. The Beastkin wandered the desert, looked to the stars, and became the most renowned scholars and scientists in the world. And the Elves bent the plants and spirits to their will, creating grand cities within the treetops with their boundless magic.

But the humans… The humans squabbled endlessly. The other races saw the human land fracture and unify, build up and be broken down, sometimes within a single non-human lifespan. As such, the humans were comparatively primitive and their constant cycles of violence lead the others to view them as nothing but savages. This by itself would not be enough for the others to do much more than look down on and ignore the humans, but there was one other oddity that separated them.

They revered their dead. Something the other races did not do.

The non-human races were only given emotional depth and breadth just big enough to comply with their patron gods wishes. They saw the dead as nothing more thana carcass to be disposed of, with burial or cremation only performed out of practicality not ceremony.

But the humans, with their deep and wide range of emotions granted by Zenrith, made many ceremonies and rites regarding the dead in order to remember and celebrate them and their life. And whats more, when a human of particularly strong will dies far from home, their overwhelming desire to return home will sometimes cause the king of blades himself to take pity on them and reanimate their body as a zombie to journey home so that they may be buried by their loved ones.

And this disgusted them.

Eventually, the other races decided that the humans were a waste of space that could better serve themselves and each sent their armies to conquer them. The Dwarves sent towering war machines that could blast through a castle wall in a single blow. The Beastkin proved to be far superior fighters to the humans with their superior senses and strength. And the Elves turned nature and the spirits against the humans, starving them by inducing crop failures and making the very earth swallow their soldiers whole.

One by one human cities, towns, and villages fell and their people slaughtered. Soon the broken halls in the land of the dead were filled with men and women alike who all knelt before the throne of Zenrith. “Oh lord! Please take pity on us and grant our selfish desire to rise once more so we may protect our families!” The souls all cried, and the king of blades wept.

“I have heard your pleas and I have taken pity. I shall grant you my strength so that I may not see your loved ones enter these halls until it is their time” Zenrith bellowed as he rose from his throne to address his creations. “Now rise forth and fulfil your desire, O’ revenant’s of mine!”

On the battle fields of the mortal realm, human corpses littered the land where they were slain, the other races not bothering with burying them as it would only slow their advance. First one by one, then by hundreds, then by thousands, the bodies were swallowed by shadows, and they rose. The shadows jumped and flickered like flames across their skin, and their facial features shone white through the black. They came back not as mere zombies, but as one of Zenrith’s revenant’s, and each carried a blade of shining obsidian.

The revenant’s marched towards the rear of their enemies who had long since advanced past the fields of the risen, and surprised the non-human armies with an attack from behind. Slowly, they began to whittle them down. Their blessed blades now capable of slicing through the Dwarven armour, felled their war machines like lumberjacks. The revenant’s senses and strength, now surpassing those of the Beastkin, cut them down just as easily as the Beastkin had done to them. And with their immortal bodies, the magic of the Elves was useless as no injury was fatal nor lasting.

Eventually, the revenant’s encircled the enemy armies and ground them down to nothing. But they were not done. The king of blades had proclaimed that he did not wish to see their families until it was their time, so they turned and marched towards the borders of human land. And there they stood, warding off the other races from invading again, forever protecting their loved ones. And there they still stand to this very day.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Rebelliousdefender on 2024-12-24 10:19:03+00:00.

---

Eight bottles of beer, three glasses of wine, half a bottle of Blerk and a pint of the most exquisite Rilzak the Galaxy had to offer. A personal record. Denrad Hazdar felt great. He was also barely conscious. It didn't matter. Right now he had the rush of his life and he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences tomorrow. For he was about to die. Everything was about to die.

The last human in existence, sighted. What a life. At least he wouldn't have to worry about turning 150 years old – hurray! His mood was great. Then came the memories. Oh god the memories…

He had been 14 when he first heard of the Xartul. Some news outlet mentioned that the fringes of the Galaxy had been attacked by an unknown faction that had devastated a dozen worlds of the Orbin Hegemony. This was nothing extraordinary. The Galaxy was teeming with life. A thousand factions were competing for dominance. Every year some new and previously unknown species emerged from some obscure Solar System and tried to secure its place in the Galactic Pecking Order.

Humans, by luck, accident or destiny, had managed to climb the ladder rather quickly. Within a few Millennia after discovering the secrets of FTL travel, they had risen to be among the greatest powers in the Galaxy. By the time of Denrads birth, perhaps only the Lankoi could call themselves equals of humanity. Young Denrad had other worries, though. School, games, girls, puberty, life.

The next time he recalled hearing about these Aliens was at age 18 when he entered University. By this time, the Galaxy had given them the name „Xartul“. An ancient Lankoi word for “scourge”. During the previous four years, the Xartul had completely annihilated the Orbin Coalition, and started attacking the surrounding powers.

While this achievement was noteworthy, (before their fall the Orbin had been estimated to be the 17th most powerful faction in the Galaxy) it was far from unique. Throughout the Millennia emerging new powers had managed to defeat old established ones dozens of times.

Denrad, busy with relocating to the University of Antares and eager to start his education in Sunology, quickly forgot about the news, as did the rest of the Galaxy.

When he graduated with his Doctorate at age 28, the situation had changed. In the decade it had taken Denrad to complete his education, the Xartul had annihilated a dozen competing factions and had taken control of a full 20% oft he Galaxy. The speed of expansion and conquest was alarming. The brutality unprecedented. For the Xartul did not conquer to gain subjects, but resources. The native population was seen as nothing more than useless resource consumers and thus expendable.

Planets, Moons and Asteroids with a population numbering in the Millions or Billions were cleansed from their original inhabitants, and then colonized with a few hundred thousand Xartul. This way, most of the Planet could be strip mined for resources without any concerns, fueling the Xartul war machine.

No one knew what caused this genocidal conquest, this devastating expansion. And no one ever found out. It wasn't even clear if the Xartul came from the same Galaxy or if they were an extragalactic invader. All forms of contact were rejected, all captured Xartul killed themselves in captivity.

It didn't really matter. They had become a threat to everyone, and the Galaxy reacted accordingly.

The Humans, the Lankoi and dozens of other galactic powers entered a coalition to defeat the Xartul invaders. A war economy was declared, everything centered around the war effort.

As Quadrillions of others, Denrad was drafted into the armed forces. He ended up in the science division, trying to find new ways and weapons of destruction to stop the scourge that was about to consume the Galaxy.

By the time he turned 40, it was clear that the Galaxy was losing. Badly. Humanity had lost 1/3 of their territory to the invaders, the Lankoi half. Over 1/3 of the Galaxy had been cleansed of non-Xartul life.

It was during this dark hour, that Denrad submitted a daring plan to the Galactic Community. The Strategos Council were impressed with its boldness and gave it the highest priority. It seems to be the best, and only, possible way to stop and prevail over the Xartul.

For the next century, Denrad was almost exclusively preoccupied with Project „Sun Spear“. As a Sunologist, an expert in the inner workings of Suns, he was attempting to weaponize the stars themselves.

Unfortunately, a project of such magnitude required large amounts of resources, time and manpower. As the flickers of civilization across the Galaxy were extinguished one by one, Denrad and Millions of other creatures worked feverishly on a plan to save the Galaxy. Eventually, they realized that they would not be finished in time to save it.But they might save other Galaxies.

When Denrad entered seniorhood a age 140, he witnessed Humanities last stand. Boxed in from all sides, the last Star System under Human control was attacked by the Xartul. The last 20 Billion humans, the last 12 000 War ships. It had been a spectacle worthy of Legends.

As the Chief Scientist of project „Sun Spear“ Denrad was ordered to escape in the fastest ship ever created. The last humans did everything to buy him much needed time.

He recalled the pictures, the transmissions, the flashes and explosions. He recalled the orbital bombardment of humanities last Planet. He recalled the silence.

Tears were streaming down Denrads cheeks. He was sobbing uncontrollably. He was screaming. He was crying, he was howling like an animal.

He took another sip of Rilzak. His good mood was gone. He only felt hate, and sorrow and regret. Why hadn't he spent more time with father? Why haven't he helped mother in the garden between school years when he had the time? Why hadn't he exercised more.? Why hadn't he started a family? Why hadn't he married Ate?

His chest hurt, his heart hurt. All he felt was regret, for missed opportunities. Regret for all the pain and suffering caused by the Xartul. Over 90% of the Galaxy had been cleansed of non-Xartul life. The last pockets of resistance were expected to fall within months. With 99.99% probability, he was the last living human in existence.

Still sobbing and crying, Denrad turned to the control panels. His escape had been necessary in order to complete project „Sun Spear“. In the past few weeks, he had finished the last calculations. It was time.

He activated the frequency that was his lives work. Coincidentally, the old Terran calendar showed the date of 24th December 12024. An ancient popular Terran holiday, that had endured throughout the Millennia.

Denrads last words were: „Happy Christmas, Motherfuckers“.

„Sun Spear“ was an attempt to turn stars into a Supernova. At the beginning of the project it was hoped to blow up isolated stars to stop the Xartul advance, but since the project took so long to complete, it had been modified into a Doomsday Weapon. „Lets go out with a bang ey?“ one of Denrads fellow scientists had remarked once.

The frequency emitted from Denrads ship travelled at FTL speeds. Billions of small drones and hidden relay stations increased the signals' intensity. Within hours, it had travelled across the entire Galaxy.

The Signal disrupted the delicate workings of hundreds of Billions of stars, and caused a cascade effect that lead to their collapse. Hundreds of Billions of stars across the Galaxy turned Supernova.

Within hours, the entire Galaxy lit up. The radiation of these explosions would ensure the complete cleansing of all life, even if a few Million stars did not blow up.

Millions of years later, neighboring Galaxies would be hit by the light of these explosions, resembling a giant colorful jingle bell among the stars….

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Auggy74 on 2024-12-24 16:03:03+00:00.

---

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___________

The next hour passed in silence, with Edwards placing the intercept time on everyone's console - though everyone did eventually use the bathroom. It took some time, but Nhoot had corralled Jonesy and carried his softly protesting form to Gryzzk's quarters. As the numbers began to tick down, Gryzzk requested a silent status update by using his tablet, as if speaking would break the concentration. Even Rosie was holding herself in a static position.

There was a soft chime from Reilly's console. "They're hailing us captain. Audio only."

"Hold for now. O'Brien, weapons range?" Gryzzk wanted a few pieces of information first.

"Extreme but doable. Keep them talking, they’ll be in range fairly quick."

"Edwards, get a scan on their holds."

"Minimal, sir. Based on how they're moving, it looks like they were headed out when they saw us." Edwards pursed her lips.

"Any change on the course of the other three?"

"Negative."

"Reilly, signal the Godsfang, advise them that we're cutting the tow, and that if shots are fired, they are to proceed to Hurdop Prime at flank speed – if they protest, remind them that if they're destroyed not only do they die, we don't get paid and we like getting paid. And then open the audio channel."

Reilly nodded. "Channel open."

The channel did not have high quality, but it was audible and simple. "Surrender."

Gryzzk quirked a bit – perhaps it was time to be Terran for a moment. "You wish to surrender? We accept."

There was a growl. "N-no! You will surrender to us or face the wrath of the Throne's Fortune Group."

Gryzzk stood before pacing a bit. "Throne's Fortune Group, this is Captain Gryzzk of the Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose - I'm hoping we can come to a peaceful agreement. We are escorting Vilantian emissaries in order to unify our worlds."

The reply was harsh. "The only peaceful agreement is the one where you give us what's in your hold and give over your crew for ransoms. Vilantia's been nothing but lies to us for centuries, why should we believe you?"

"Half of my crew are from Hurdop. I've been training with them, learning with them."

"You're Vilantian. Why should I believe you?"

"Would you believe me if one of my crew spoke to you?"

The transmission became clearer as the ships approached. "Perhaps. If the crew member was known."

"A moment." Gryzzk turned to Reilly. "Have Private Pafreet join the conversation."

There was a slight grin on Reilly's face as she tapped a control. "He's on."

"Pafreet, Captain Gryzzk. We have three ships who are wanting to fire on us from the Throne's Fortune Group. I'm bringing their leader in momentarily, could you convince them it's a very bad idea?"

"Of course, Lord Captain. When you are ready."

As soon as Reilly patched them in, Pafreet spoke, his voice filled with command. "Commodore of the Throne's Fortune group this is the thirty-third Pafreet in service to the Throne. Verification code 9-2-1-8-Black; you are advised to stand down and alter course. Failure to heed this warning carries consequence. At best you will die without glory. At worst, your ships will be disabled and you will be taken into custody. My Lord Captain is Vilantian, and the last Vilantians who stood against him were remanded to Vilantia with no fur to call their own. Do not think that there will be kindness from him if you fire anything stronger than a thruster at this ship. Look at your scanners, look at the armament you face. Choose your prey wisely and rapidly, friend Commodore."

There was silence for a long time, before the commodore came back. "We withdraw. Walk with the light gods, friend Pafreet."

Two of the ships moved off, but the third accelerated toward them.

Things happened very fast after that. Godsfang leaped forward, being paced by the Voided Warranty - the ship that had chosen to ignore the Commodore was firing plasma rounds as rapidly as their guns could cycle on their mad dash to do something; Hoban and O'Brien began speaking in terse sentences as they moved to intercept, while the remaining two ships began to move very rapidly out of the zone so as not to be mistaken for combatants. During this Rosie had gotten on the all-hands channel and alerted the crew to combat stations.

Gryzzk gripped the arms of his chair tightly, staying quiet as the ships closed from extreme to distant, the other ships' plasma fire wildly missing the mark. "I want that ship disabled if possible."

"Not gonna be easy, that bucket might fall apart if I threw a rock at it hard enough. And thank the gods their gunner's shooting like he's the king of all weekend warriors." O'Brien called back without looking away from her console.

"You heard her Hoban; get us into position for an engine shot." Gryzzk tapped a control. "Boarding parties stand to – wound if you can, kill if you must. Seal checks now, and hold on to something."

Hoban's hands flew over the controls as he made the ship dance and dart. "Corkscrew time - everybody hitch your tits and pucker up." He began to punish the engines and thrusters before finally setting up a maneuver that led them directly into the weapons of their opponent, and then flipped the ship nose-down and sent it shooting downward, causing the other ship to fire wildly as the Twilight Rose emitted a faint groan under the stress.

"Grand flying - my turn lad." O'Brien moved her hands gracefully, and tapped twice - at her command the railguns fired their projectiles through the engines to leave them a ruin of metal and ceramics. The other ship began to tumble, still firing wildly in the vain hope of getting a shot to land. Finally the firing stopped, but the tumble didn't.

"Hoban, can you match that?"

"Done and done, maneuvering now." Hoban was at the controls again, gentler this time as the Twilight Rose snugged up to her prize.

Gryzzk stood, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding until the ships were matched. "Boarding parties. Weapons free, we want prisoners, good hunting." He heard acknowledgment, and subsequently tiny shudders as platforms were launched to latch on and cold-weld themselves at the docking hatches. He then tapped another control. "Medical teams stand by for wounded." He then listened to the boarding parties communication.

The ensuing fight was brief, as the defenders of the ship did not have a solid answer for Terran combat armor or tear gas. What made it worse was that the other ship's artificial gravity was out, making shooting an exercise in ensuring both the boarders and defenders could reset properly. On the whole, it seemed to be successful, if the nods from the bridge were anything to say.

And then there was a brightening through the other ship, then total darkness and a small explosion that blew part of the plating off the ship to collide with the Twilight Rose with a large clanging sound.

Rosie was the first to react. "Motherfuckers scratched me! Tarps off and fill your boots boys!"

Over the comms was chaos of overlapping voices - "Get her back to the ship double-time, go-go-go!" "The fuck just happened!?" "Twilight-born shitbag!" "I die for the Thron-urk!" "Pru? Pru, wake that ass up, you were not given permission to die!"

Gryzzk waited for a long moment for the immediate chatter to die down. "Boarding parties status, now."

A voice that was shaky with adrenaline answered. "One of the Hurdop over here had a self destruct for the ship, but when he popped it off it looks like it just overloaded the circuits – we got one serious casualty en route to medical now, couple others with minor dings." There was a pause. "It's Private Prumila, sir."

Gryzzk paused, fighting the ball of ice that formed in the pit of his stomach at the news. "Secure the ship, get the prisoners over here and in the brig. Then go over the ship as thoroughly as possible, stand by for engineering." He switched channels again. "Engineering, I want a team standing by to confirm that ship can be towed."

The minutes ticked by before there was confirmation, and the engineering group went over with scanners and spanners to patch the worst hole, and then verified the ship was capable of being towed, though from Tucker's report he didn't think it was worth their time as he reported in an hour later, with Rosie hovering near Tucker and trying to maintain her normal projection.

"Cap, it's more patches than ship; and the fight didn't do her a damn bit of good. Honest opinion, this thing probably woulda flown apart from the stresses coming out of R-space. Only thing that mighta worked on that thing was the shower, and even that was a maybe thing. Collectively, that crew's got balls the size of churchbells - and two brain cells fighting for third place. I think you did them fellas in the brig a favor. 'Specially since it's curry night. The only thing we found in the logs that wasn't maintenance and repair notes was a letter of marque from two years ago that's passed through five captains and six ship re-namings."

Gryzzk's mind was, well, elsewhere during the report, only noticing that it was his turn to speak by the lengthening silence. "Understood. Send your recommendations regarding speed and maximum turning capability to Lieutenant Hoba...

---

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First | Previous

Aboard the Pax Vindicator

Kyra Venh was a very good pilot, which was the entire reason she was on this state-of-the-art smuggling corvette turned biolab after all. That, and a few poor decisions that essentially made returning home to the CIP out of the question for a good long while. Really, just a little cocaine smuggling along with her actual job shouldn't have been such a big deal, but Her Majesty's Crown Prosecution Service on Albian Centauri disagreed. It wasn't like a couple hours of detox and a week in rehab ever did anyone any real harm. However, that royal pain in semi-honest businesswomen's asses had enough clout to make sure she wasn't safe across the whole coalition. Sure, she was able to keep moving product on her own in a personal ship for a while, especially with the authorities focused on bigger problems, but without the legitimacy of flying for disaster relief, said authorities were getting closer and closer to hemming her in. In comes a biologist from Pacifia with a job offer. What could be a safer way to lay low than to fly a pacifist biologist around terraforming candidates? These days trouble with the authorities wasn't so scary. Dr. Persephone Morn wasn't so pacifistic as her countrymen anymore.

Dr. Morn's "work" had taken Kyra extremely far from nice, safe, empty planets in need of evaluation for future terraforming, and extremely close to the bigger problems that had taken up so much of the authorities' focus. That problem being, of course, the ongoing war with the insane genocidal Dominion of Axxaakk. Most people got their name wrong on purpose, but Dr. Morn had ruthlessly squashed that practice. She called it "looking at evil without flinching," but Kyra thought she didn't want anyone treating the Axxaakk with any humor in any way. The good doctor had her reasons for that. Any Pacifian would have reasons to want the Axxaakk taken seriously.

"Maintain orbit," Dr. Morn was saying softly as Kyra eased the yolk to make tiny adjustments in the ship's orbital trajectory, "I need to be sure the deployment was successful."

"The canisters landed in a huge farms and their tractors won't find them for like six weeks, if then. Didn't you say they're a couple months away from harvest?"

"I said they're most likely two to three months away from optimal harvest time. However, they might cut the grain early to ship it under ripe and ripen it via exposure to a catalyst upon arrival for processing. More importantly, I need to know whether and how many delivery devices failed."

Kyra adjusted the orbital path again to avoid a derelict satellite and said, "The longer we stay here the more likely they are to notice we're not bumping into their orbital debris…"

"I realize that, Ms. Venh, but I require confirmation. If you believe we are detected, please utilize your skills to make good our escape," Dr. Morn explained as Kyra glanced at her reflection. Kyra thought that the dim glow cast by the various displays into the shadows of the cockpit gave her employer a sinister cast.

"It's not like we're sticking around to watch your… your… creation take effect," Kyra said, "all we're getting is a signal from each canister, and for all we know that could have malfunctioned."

"No, we are not waiting for Bloodblight to fully blossom, and we know that the deployment detection systems are resilient enough that malfunctions will be unlikely. We'll perhaps never know for sure if we succeeded in removing an enemy agri-world, or perhaps we shall find out after the war," Dr. Morn was saying while Kyra quite involuntarily noticed her employer's eyes tighten at the corners and her mouth twitch upward in the reflection on one of the viewscreens in the cockpit. "Maybe we'll read their records of massive crop failures, inability to properly feed their slaves, and a noticeable drop in production of war materials at several of their industrial worlds. Maybe we'll even read about what alternative food sources they resort to, local pests or vermin, perhaps just like the ancient Soviets, they shall turn to one another for vital calories. Perhaps we'll never know for certain, but if I have confirmation of deployment, I shall be able to infer success."

"You're talking about starving an entire planet."

"No," interrupted the resident Digitan, L4m14, via speakers for her use, "she's talking about starving several planets. Just got pings from all sixty canisters, boss-lady."

"Doctor," Dr. Morn corrected coolly.

"Sorry, doctor boss-lady," the feminine Digitan chirped cheerily, "Anyway, it's a widely believed fact that an army marches on its stomach, so taking away their food will mean they can't march. I'm not sure how that would help anything, since I'm pretty sure you can't march with internal organs and nobody marches in space anyhow, but organics are weird."

"Those sub-sapient creatures systematically slaughtered every last man and woman on Second Chance, and they would have murdered the children too if they could. They have proven as much on several planets. Do you believe creatures capable of such an act should be left to persist in slaughter?" As she was speaking, Dr. Morn began unconsciously tapping her foot, and her voice took on a cool hard quality that Kyra could only notice due to her familiarity with Dr. Morn. Kyra thought there was hot hatred beneath that icy exterior, and had no desire to break through.

"No. They need stopping, I won't argue with that," Kyra said quickly.

An alarm chimed, a display flashed, and Lam14 helpfully said, "Four incoming patrol vessels, I'd say they're roughly equivalent to light system watch vessels, or maybe tugs with guns if we're comparing them to Republic of Terra vessels. I know you're a CIPpie, but there's not a lot of standardization in the Coalition."

"If you don’t mind Doctor, I think I'll get us out of here before we get caught."

"Please do, begin our course to the fallback point and come to the dining room once you've made translation. We shall discuss the available options for our next target then."

"Mess it's called the mess," Kyra grumbled under her breath as her employer got out of her way so she could do her job.

When the Pax Vindicator was safely in hyperspace, Kyra stood up from the pilot's seat and stretched. She only reveled in the satisfying way the popping sensations ran up her spin for a few seconds, and started making her way to the mess as requested. The clean, smoothly paneled corridor was well lit, and gave the illusion of being in a nice building rather than a ship, probably because the previous owners wanted to smuggle in comfort. They made Kyra feel as if she was in a clinic rather than at home in a ship. Dr. Morn never gave orders, she merely requested certain actions be taken, and those requests were simply fulfilled. Well, unless someone had a good reason the request could not be fulfilled and could explain it, and they'd better not waste any time in explaining it.

Dr. Morn and Thalys Grae were already seated at the elliptical table cleverly bolted to the deck. Thylys was half-lounging on the cushioned seating built into the wall in his customary comfortable looking sweats while Dr. Morn sat rigidly in one of the two chairs opposite from the bench, and the pair were already eating what Thalys alleged was nearly as good as authentic Italian cooking. Kyra realized she was starving, and even if she had no clue how close this pasta was to authentic Italian, it smelled heavenly.

"L4m14, are you available for a staff meeting?" Dr. Morn asked the air.

"Sure thing, doctor boss-lady. Point of order, please hire an engineer, you organics are surprisingly good at ship maintenance and emergency repair."

"That course of action remains under consideration," Dr. Lumia answered, "In the meantime please make use of Mr. Grae's assistance and the robotic frame."

"Okie-dokie. Just bear in mind that the lack of an engineer is a strategic weakness in your mission, and there is only so much I can do with systems management."

"I continue to note your advice, could you please load the file 'Population Dense Targets' for me on a holographic display?"

Kyra was busy dishing up as much pasta her bowl could hold as the display flickered to life above the table, and she felt obliged to scoot her meal out of a translucent moon. "I guess you're going to ask me what kind of samples I can get you from these kinds of targets?" Thalys asked as he used his pasta laden fork to call up a text description on one of the holographic planets.

"Indeed, Mr. Grae. Again, if you can obtain samples of existing pathogens on the planet in addition to samples of blood and hair from the population, that would be ideal. Fungal samples could also be useful, as well as samples of the local drinking water and food stores."

"What's our focus?" the squat, gruff man asked as his eyes scanned the text.

"Disruption of industrial capacity. This can be accomplished via either disabling the production equipment or disabling the labor force, ideally I would like to achieve both in tandem."

"Do you have what you need to engineer an organism to damage infrastructure aboard?" Kyra asked after making absolutely certain there was no f...

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Showoff

First | Prev

“I do not think he is as weird as you say. He comports himself well, everyone says he is kind and friendly. Yes, his accent is strange. But it is clear, and he speaks more Tsla than I expected. I have heard he mixes a good drink, too. If any Human is a paved path, he is.”

Alex didn’t recognize the voice that came from the washroom that led into the baths. It was young, probably female, and he probably hadn’t met her at the lounge he and Carbon had been running as a bar for the last three days. Didn’t recognize that turn of phrase either, but it sounded positive.

It was still early in the day. Carbon was off being a menace in engineering, and he was relaxing in the pool with just a bottle of water to keep him company. The ‘pool’ that the ship had was actually a simulated hot spring. The absurd luxury of the common areas didn’t extend past the showers - aside from the fact it was a hot spring on a spaceship. This area replicated a rustic wooden building over natural hot springs that reminded Alex of a Onsen. All of the walls were digital, and so he currently overlooked a heavily forested valley in a state of perpetual sunrise, which did fuck with his sense of time. He had found that sitting on a rock, chin deep in hot mineral water was an easy way to lose track of it anyway.

“You were not there. You did not see him in my galley.” Another young voice, just a hair higher pitch than the other one. Possibly male. The chef, apparently.

“Chef’s galley.” The first voice said, authoritative and a few steps closer this time.

The guy who wasn’t the chef exhaled hard, annoyed. “Very well. He was in Chef’s galley. Standing at my prep station with a notebook and every spice we have on hand neatly laid out. And he was just eating them, one by one, and making notes about them.”

Alex had been doing that yesterday. Staying up late had become normal almost the first night onboard, as most of the crew were on first shift during the ‘day’ and the forward lounge had been cobbled together into something a little more lounge-like after reducing the gambling house and sex den vibes, mostly by stealing furniture from other parts of the ship. Kaleta had grumbled about it, but had not attempted to pull rank with Sharadi’s sigil. She was also spending a lot of time there chatting with Carbon so it couldn’t have bothered her too much.

He had a key to the ship, so letting himself in to the galley wasn’t an issue after it had closed, but apparently the actual galley staff had access too even if he hadn’t heard the guy.

“That... That is a little weird.” She relented, splashing quietly as she stepped into hot water. “But all of it must be new to him. Perhaps he is a cook as well?”

Alex was a cook, to an extent, but only of Human food. He didn’t know how all their base ingredients went together, and spices were the first place he figured to start as they were important to making things taste good. He understood a lot of Human spices. Garlic was a known quantity. He knew what it tasted like, how to use it, and that most recipes that called for it didn’t add enough.

Tsla’o spices were still sort of unknown to him. Alex had talked about them with a few people, and tasted a bunch by now, he was sure. Weeks of eating nothing but Tsla’o food meant that was guaranteed. Then there was stuff like the tin of Tolau Kamokoste he found in the galley’s spice cabinet - a powdered tree resin that tasted like pine, lime, and cilantro. He would have remembered eating that. Would those flavors stick around when fried, or boiled in a broth? Could he make something sufficiently similar to Mexican with it? Who knows.

Ok, the guy about to get into the baths did. Maybe his friend, too. Alex might ask later, but the opportunity to surreptitiously listen to people talk about him was too enticing to just pop up, introduce himself, and start grilling them about Tsla’o cooking.

Alex had parked himself at the far end of the pool - there was a large, fairly deep channel that ran nearly the length of the room, with a bunch of alcoves that provided a semi-private seating area. They varied in size, letting you pick the number of friends you wanted in your immediate vicinity. He had taken a medium size one, because he expected Carbon to join him once she was done terrorizing the chief engineer.

“He is a pilot. I do not know that I have ever met one who was also good at cooking.” The second voice hissed as he stepped into the water, followed by a soft curse.

“It is the same temperature as last time.” The woman chided him with a barely suppressed laugh.

“I have told you, my pads are sensitive to heat. It takes me time to adjust.” Somebody didn’t like getting teased about not tolerating the hot water. “Speaking of that: Computer, adjust scenery. Winter snow, night.”

The overhead lights dimmed, the baths lit by lanterns that had sat unused during the sunrise simulation. The digital walls adjusted from perpetual morning to light winter snowfall at night. Same valley, covered in a thick layer of snow now, but a distant town was more readily visible now that it was lit up.

It was pretty cozy, actually.

“Ah, Keta. You are a romantic.”

“Yes, well... I know you like the mountains. It should be snowing now.” He grumbled, the water moving quietly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you sure it is the same temperature?”

“It is always this temperature. I do not think it has ever been another temperature except when we shut it off for maintenance.” She was still amused by his sensitivity to heat.

“Fine, fine.” Keta groaned, annoyed. “Do you think it is possible to turn this down, perhaps ten degrees?”

The reply came with a hint of playful disdain. “You could relax in a tepid bath?”

“This makes my skin prickle, so yes, I could.”

“Even if I did turn it down, it would take hours to cool. These are real stones, and they hold heat forever.” Her statement was punctuated with the quiet smack of a kiss. “You are always so much more relaxed once you soak for a while, or I would not keep suggesting it when the baths are available.”

“Is it so?” He wasn’t annoyed anymore, just a little confused.

“Aye. You have not noticed?” Likewise, she was confused.

“No.” Keta did a good job sounding completely flummoxed in just one word. “I thought you just liked coming up here.”

“I do! I like seeing you at ease just as much.” There was genuine fondness in her voice as it quieted, slipping into an alcove of her own. “You stand a little straighter, your shoulders are not so tight. You return affection much more readily. It is a good look on you.”

Keta made an affirmative grunt, the conversation between them settling into a lull for some time. He sighed, and when he did speak again it was laden with regret. “I wish I had met you when there were still mountains to go to.”

“They are still there. The ash cannot fall forever, and when it stops we can reclaim what is ours... They found other planets we might someday enjoy, too. Tatena follows all that, and he was saying that the Humans have actually terraformed several planets to the point where they can support life on the surface. The planet we’re due to stop at is one of them.” She sounded surprisingly hopeful for someone discussing their home planet’s destruction. “If it came down to it, we seem to be on better terms with the Humans than ever, I am sure they must have a mountain we could borrow for a day or two.”

The planet they were due to stop at? This was news to Alex. While he was pretty sure that frontier planets didn’t have public networks the same way that core planets did, he would have to make some calls about that, and a meeting that had gone on way too long may have mentioned IP ranges. He didn’t have the ARGUS properly loaded with fake data, and they did not have the facilities onboard to make that happen, so he would have to be careful approaching this.

That got a chuckle out of Keta. “Perhaps the Prince would lend us one his family owns? He seems agreeable enough.”

“Did you not hear? He is a commoner like us.” There was a hint of surprise in her voice.

A pause. “Is he? That does explain... Most everything, I think. Except how he was chosen for such a prestigious assignment. Surely they would have sent a Royal, or at least someone from a noble house.”

Alex almost laughed at that. Oh, buddy. There was such a story there. Not a lot of royalty to choose from in the Confederation as well, though some of the member states were aristocracies.

“I do not think they have royalty. He is supposed to be an exceptional pilot anyway. They probably just chose on merit.” Someone had been paying attention to the... However the Tsla’o learned about the Confederation. Alex was unfamiliar with their educational system and how news was disseminated. Another thing on the stack of stuff to learn about.

“Really? How curious.” He had a tone to his voice that said he didn’t understand how it would work.

“He might know how we could get access, at least. Perhaps there is a program that allows visitors? I wonder what their buildings look like in places like this.”

Alex actually knew the answer to that, on Earth at least. Different planets had different requirements, but on Earth you usually had to apply for visitor permits for the more wild areas. There were still plenty...

---

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The hatch hissed open, revealing a yawning void of blackness. D’rinn stood at the edge, his suit light cutting a narrow beam into the corridor beyond. Dust motes danced lazily in the beam’s glow, settling like ghostly remnants of centuries gone by. He took a step forward, the sound of his boots muffled against the ancient deck plates. “Seriph, give me a status report,” he muttered, his voice crackling slightly in the comms. The AI’s response was as dry as ever. “The suit is detecting a faint but breathable atmosphere. Oxygen levels are minimal but sufficient for human standards.”

D’rinn paused mid-step and tilted his helmet toward the ceiling. “Minimal, huh? Well, look at that. Fancy a nice lungful of ancient death, Seriph? Maybe I’ll save on oxygen and take off the helmet.” “I recommend against it,” Seriph replied curtly. “The atmosphere could contain contaminants, pathogens, or worse. Statistically, exposure would result in respiratory failure within, ” “Yeah, yeah,” D’rinn interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re such a buzzkill, you know that?” He took another step forward, his suit light swinging across the corridor. The darkness seemed to press in from all sides, heavy and oppressive. Every surface was coated in a thick layer of grime and corrosion. Dust-covered panels lined the walls, their ancient screens cracked or shattered. As he moved further in, he felt it, a faint vibration beneath his boots, subtle but persistent, like the slow heartbeat of something vast and ancient.

“Seriph,” he muttered, his antennae twitching, “you feel that?” “I lack physical sensation, D’rinn,” Seriph replied flatly. “However, I am detecting minor vibrations consistent with residual energy flows. It’s likely the ship’s systems are not fully dormant.” D’rinn smirked. “Not fully dormant, huh? So you’re saying it’s alive? Great. Should I introduce myself now or wait for it to eat me?” “If this vessel is capable of consumption, you’ll likely have no choice,” Seriph said. D’rinn chuckled despite the faint unease creeping into his chest. He swept his light across the walls, revealing deep scorch marks and jagged scratches that looked disturbingly deliberate. “Okay, that’s new,” he muttered, crouching to inspect one of the marks. “Claw-like. Big claws, too. Remind me again how humans wiped themselves out when they had monsters like this hanging around?” “Historical records suggest humans were more proficient at self-destruction than they were at dealing with external threats,” Seriph offered. “Comforting.”

He stood and continued forward, his light catching glimpses of broken human tech scattered along the floor. A rusted, boxy device sat to the side, its wires spilling out like the entrails of a mechanical corpse. D’rinn crouched down and tapped it with a claw. “No power,” he muttered. “Figures. Humans built their stuff to last, but I guess nothing survives thousands of years in a place like this.” “Except you, apparently,” Seriph quipped. D’rinn smirked. “I’m a tough one.” The corridor stretched ahead, eerily quiet save for the occasional creak of metal underfoot. He paused at an intersection, shining his light in both directions. To the left, a collapsed bulkhead blocked the way. To the right, a faint glow caught his attention. “Well, that’s inviting,” he muttered, turning toward the glow.

As he approached, the light grew brighter, emanating from a wall panel partially hidden beneath layers of dust and grime. It was faintly glowing, its surface etched with faded human glyphs. D’rinn stepped closer, brushing away the dust with a claw. “Seriph, tell me this thing isn’t about to explode,” he said, his tone half-serious. “I detect no immediate threat. However, interacting with unknown systems is highly inadvisable. It could trigger defensive mechanisms or compromise structural integrity.” “Yeah, yeah,” D’rinn muttered, his curiosity already overriding the AI’s warnings. “What’s life without a little danger, right?” He tapped a button at random, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then a low mechanical groan reverberated through the corridor, sending a shiver down his spine. The panel flickered to life, its glyphs shifting and rearranging themselves into a barely comprehensible pattern. D’rinn leaned closer, squinting at the screen. “Well, that’s not ominous at all,” he muttered.

The faint glow extended down the corridor, emergency lights flickering on and bathing the area in a dim red hue. The vibrations beneath his feet grew slightly stronger, and the hum of residual energy deepened, almost like a whisper in the back of his mind. “Seriph, I think I just woke something up,” he said, half-joking, half-serious. “Indeed. Congratulations on your continued pattern of ill-advised decisions,” the AI replied. D’rinn straightened, glancing over his shoulder at the corridor behind him. It was empty, but the oppressive silence felt heavier now, as if the ship itself was watching him. “Right,” he muttered, gripping his flashlight tighter. “Let’s keep moving. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The vibrations pulsed again, stronger this time, and for a brief moment, he thought he heard something, a faint metallic scraping, distant but deliberate. D’rinn froze, his hearts hammering in his chest. “Seriph… tell me you heard that.” “I have no auditory capacity,” the AI replied, “but sensors indicate a faint movement in the vicinity. Likely residual mechanisms.” “Residual, my ass,” D’rinn muttered, turning back toward the darkened corridor. The scraping sound came again, louder this time, echoing through the ship like a warning. “Well,” D’rinn muttered, forcing a grin, “this just keeps getting better.” The dim emergency lights cast the corridor in a blood-red hue as D’rinn crept forward. Each step echoed faintly, swallowed almost instantly by the oppressive silence. The vibrations beneath his boots hadn’t stopped, in fact, they seemed to pulse with a rhythm now, slow and deliberate, as if the ship was breathing.

“Seriph, tell me again this thing isn’t alive,” he muttered, gripping his flashlight tighter. “I have no evidence to suggest biological activity,” the AI replied. “However, the residual energy patterns are intensifying. Proceed with caution.” D’rinn smirked, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Caution? Where’s the fun in that?” As he rounded the corner, the corridor opened into a larger space. His suit light swept across the room, revealing a circular chamber with shattered screens lining the walls. The glass from several displays crunched beneath his boots as he stepped in, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet. “Okay,” he said, scanning the room. “This looks important.” “It appears to be the ship’s control center,” Seriph offered. D’rinn approached the central console, a massive slab of ancient Terran engineering. Its surface was cracked in places, and wires dangled haphazardly from underneath. He brushed a claw over the dusty controls, revealing faint, faded glyphs beneath the grime. “Humans sure loved their buttons,” he muttered. “D’rinn,” Seriph said sharply, “I must reiterate, interacting with unknown systems could trigger unintended consequences. This ship may contain--, ” “--treasure,” D’rinn interrupted, his grin returning. “Come on, Seriph. If they didn’t want people pressing buttons, they shouldn’t have made them so shiny.” Before Seriph could protest further, D’rinn tapped a button at random.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low groan that seemed to come from the depths of the ship, the console flickered to life. Lights danced across its cracked surface, and several of the shattered screens on the walls sparked and buzzed. “Well, would you look at that?” D’rinn said, leaning closer to the console. The displays sputtered and finally stabilized, showing corrupted lines of human text interspersed with schematics and flickering maps. One of the screens in particular caught his eye, a map of the ship, with a pulsating red dot deep within its lower levels. “Seriph, what am I looking at here?” The AI scanned the data. “The map appears to highlight the ship’s layout. The red marker likely indicates either a critical system or an anomaly.” “Treasure,” D’rinn declared, pointing at the screen. “That’s gotta be treasure.” “I must remind you, D’rinn, that anomalies rarely signify something desirable. It could be a reactor meltdown, a security system, or, ” “Something shiny,” D’rinn finished, grinning. “I’m going with shiny.”

Before Seriph could respond, a new sound interrupted the moment, a loud metallic groan from deep within the ship. It reverberated through the chamber, followed by a faint, rhythmic thudding. D’rinn froze, his antennae twitching. “Uh… what’s that?” “I am detecting movement several decks below,” Seriph said, his tone unusually tense. “This ship is not dormant.” The thudding grew louder, accompanied by faint clicks and scrapes. D’rinn glanced back at the map, noting the red dot’s position, it hadn’t moved. Whatever was making the noise, it wasn’t coming from the marked location. “Looks like we’ve got company,” D’rinn muttered, his sm...

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First / Previous

XXX

AKA: Balls of Steele

XXX

General Steele led them through the barracks, eventually bringing them to an office. The office was occupied by several lower-ranking NCOs, all of whom turned to look at the General with surprise. The General, for his part, took it in stride.

“Get out.”

Those were the only words that needed to be said. The NCOs vacated the premises so quickly that Owens was surprised they didn’t leave skid marks behind as they left. Once they were gone, General Steele picked up the overturned chair sitting behind the desk, then made himself comfortable before motioning for Petra and Owens to sit down across from him. They both obliged, the diminutive folding chair audibly groaning under Petra’s eight-foot-tall mass of muscle.

“So,” General Steele began. “Private Owens.”

Immediately, Private Owens sat up even straighter than he already was. “Yes, Sir. Present and accounted for, Sir. Willing to do whatever it takes for you to not completely smoke me out, Sir.”

General Steele rolled his eyes, then waved him off. “Yeah, yeah… do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Owens blinked. “...No offense, Sir, but is this a trick question?”

“That depends on what trick you think I’m playing.”

“Uh…”

“Do you plan on answering any time soon?”

“Yes, Sir. No disciplinary action needed, Sir.” Owens took a breath. “...To answer your question, Sir… I think it’s obvious what I’ve done.”

“Is it? Then you wouldn’t mind enlightening me.”

Private Owens shared a glance with Petra out of the corner of his eye. She shrugged slightly, and he bit his lip before turning back to General Steele.

“I’ve had carnal relations out of wedlock with an alien, Sir.”

“Is that all?” General Steele asked.

“I am also currently in the process of putting a ring on it, Sir.”

“And?”

“And I got her pregnant with my child, Sir.”

“What else?”

Private Owens blinked, somewhat dumbfounded. “...I’ve strained relations between our species with this little stunt, Sir.”

“Have you, now? I was under the impression that the Vuk and humanity have been getting along quite well after what you did.”

Owens titled his head, confused. “Excuse me if this is out of turn, Sir, but why are you asking me these questions if you already know the answers?”

“Because I just wanted to confirm that you were doing the right thing.”

Owens’ heart skipped a beat. “Sir?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” General Steele replied. “You know as much as everyone how much of a family man I am. Frankly, the only way I was going to smoke you out for this is if you tried to run off and leave her with the baby on her own.”

“Actually, Sir, I did initially try to run off,” Owens confessed. “But only because I thought her bodyguards were going to cut my balls off for sleeping with her. And that was before I knew she was pregnant.”

“Who told you that nonsense?”

Private Owens said nothing. General Steele’s brow furrowed. “Ah, I see how it is. Well, I take it that whatever commanding officer might have given you that idea was wrong.”

“Indeed, Sir. Very wrong, in fact. The boys are still intact down there.”

“Something I am sure that your soon-to-be wife is very happy about.”

Owens couldn’t help but flush red out of a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. Next to him, Petra also flushed red, sinking into her chair a bit.

“Actually, we haven’t lain together since the one night...” she muttered.

That got General Steele’s attention. He immediately leaned forward, surprise etched across his face. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Petra confirmed.

“Hm. Well, good for you both, I suppose. I am simply surprised; all the couples I know were utterly insatiable during their engagements. My own excluded, of course; we waited until marriage.”

“Is that a general thing in human culture?” Petra asked, surprised.

General Stone shook his head. “Only among the very religious, usually. Anyway, I’m not here to confirm that you two are getting intimate properly, or anything like that. Rather, I’m here for a few different reasons.”

“What would that be, Sir?” Owens asked.

“To put it frankly, I was warned that this base of operations has been seeing a significant increase in shenanigans over the past few weeks. Now, I don’t know about you, Private Owens, but I can only take a few shenanigans before I start to get really pissed off. Wouldn’t know anything about those, would you?”

“You mean aside from the obvious one?” he asked. “No, Sir.”

“Okay, then. I guess the pink-furred Vuk soldiers I saw on my way in were simply a figment of my imagination, then. Is that what you’re telling me?”

Again, Private Owens tilted his head. “...Pink-furred Vuk soldiers, Sir?”

“Oh, yes,” General Steele confirmed with a nod. “Pink as bright as the day is long. They all seemed pretty pissed about it. I simply assumed that one of you did it as a prank.”

“It wasn’t us, Sir,” Owens hastily assured him. “Believe me, we know better than to prank the Vuk. It didn’t end well for the last guy who tried it. I don’t know the specifics, but from what I’ve been told, he now eats everything through a mechanical straw.”

General Steele nodded, then turned towards Petra. “The pink fur isn’t some cultural thing for your people, is it?”

“If it is, this is the first I’m hearing of it,” she said.

“I guess that settles that one, then. Well, try not to get into too much trouble, Private.”

“Believe me, Sir, once was enough,” Owens replied. “Seriously. I got into trouble one time and it ended with me getting a girl pregnant and marrying her. I’m not about to do that again any time soon.”

“I would hope not,” Petra chimed in.

Owens gave her a sheepish grin, then turned back to General Steele. “Anyway, was there something else you wanted out of me?”

“Indeed, there is,” he said. He folded his hands across the desk in front of me, and then to Owens’ surprise, he did something completely unexpected.

He cracked a small smile.

Owens was completely taken off-guard by it. His jaw dropped, and he had to shake himself out of his stupor as General Steele began to speak.

“How does it feel to be a real Marine, son?”

“Sir?” Private Owens asked.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” the General answered. He motioned to the door. “Most of those idiots out there could never do what you did. Only you could have had the stones to take a look at an eight-foot-tall bipedal mass of anger and muscles and decide that you were going to bed her. We haven't had a spirit like that in the Corps since at least 1945. Granted, it was spirit in a different form, but spirit is still spirit.”

Owens had to search for the correct words before responding. “...Sir, are you saying… you’re proud of me for getting drunk and sleeping with Petra?”

“That’s a crude way of putting it,” General Steele chastised. “Truthfully, I’m more proud of you for embodying the heart and soul of the Marine Corps by deciding that nothing is off-limits or too dangerous for you to try. Intentionally or not, you took a huge risk, and it paid off massively for both our species. The humans and the Vuk have never been as united as they are now. Are you following me?”

“I… suppose so?” Private Owens ventured. “I mean… this doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you should be signing off on, Sir. It’s very irresponsible.”

“Oh, it is,” he confirmed with a nod. “But at the same time, when have the Marines ever been known to be responsible?”

“This one is,” Petra replied, taking Owens’ hand in hers. “He’s certainly taking responsibility.”

“That he is.” General Steele checked his watch. “Well, I have to get going now. It was a pleasure meeting both of you, particularly you, Private Owens.”

“Likewise, Sir,” Owens replied, the two men standing up. General Steele offered him a hand, and the two of them shook briefly before separating. Once they had, the General turned towards Petra and shook her hand as well.

“If you two need anything, let me know,” he said. “I will not have the first human/Vuk hybrid baby go through any trouble. This is a sign of great unity for our species, and I will see to it that it remains that way no matter what.”

“Thank you, General,” Petra replied.

With that, the General pulled away from her, and after one last brief goodbye, left the room, leaving just Owens and Petra there. The moment he was gone, Owens sank down into his chair, throwing his head back with a massive sigh.

“Thank fuck…” he muttered. “I somehow managed to get out of that with my ass intact…”

“I told you that you were overreacting,” Petra replied.

“Alright, I’ll say it – you were right, and I was wrong. But in my defense, how was I supposed to know that the supposedly hard-ass General was going to basically sanction what I did? Hell, I still can’t believe that actually just happened; it’s probably going to take a solid decade for it to finally sink in.”

Petra shook her head. “You humans are so strange to me,” she admitted. “I can see his logic, but at the same time…”

“Yeah, I know, it doesn’t really make much sense to me, either. But like I said, the General is basically a demigod in human form; his motivations are extremely complex and make sense only to him and others of similar status to him.”

Petra rolled her eyes. “You know, your theatrical hysterics often get to be ve...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Dagoonite on 2024-12-24 08:32:53+00:00.

---

Do not listen to that one. You have to be careful with humans.

Yes, they are extremely resilient. They will do things that you think that their bodies cannot. They will seemingly bounce back from things that would kill most races. And they will pursue a person or goal to the point of madness if they find it important. They will weather situations that would make a Trask give up.

However, I have seen a human shrug off a blow to the head, continue to perform their job with only their customary complaining, then die in their sleep. Did it save lives? Yes. But the human did not even seem aware that they were actually injured, let alone severely.

Humans are frighteningly fragile like that, despite their hardiness. No, do not look at me like that. I am serious.

The human body is evolved to have thresholds. Some thresholds will leave them incapacitated, but others... They may be actively dying, but their bodies are evolved to push all that to the side to make them function. From an evolutionary standpoint, this makes sense. Until they developed tools, they were far from an apex predator. Their bodies evolved the dangerous survival trait of ignoring wounds so they could get to safety.

That, however, is not their true fragility. That comes from their minds. Many of the traits that we admire can be just as much of a bane to them as a boon. They may focus to the point that they become completely unaware of their physical condition. Conversely, they may become so hyperaware of everything around them for sustained periods that their own bodies cannot support the strain of such awareness for extended periods, yet they cannot, as they put it, shut off. They will push themselves to the point of collapse, and still try and do what they must. They will put themselves in situations that they psychologically cannot handle. Or, worst of all...

Well, let me give you an example.

There was a human that I served with. Her name was... I should not say out of respect of her family. But she liked it when we called her Azure. It had something to do with her hair, but I did not understand. She was a technician on my crew. A good technician, not the best, but valuable. Reliable. Trustworthy. Capable.

It was not just her reliability that endeared her to us. She made it a point to learn at least a little of every member's culture. She knew all the truly important dates of everyone on our team. She knew how to speak to any one of us. She knew how to make our stress more manageable. While she may not have been able to do everything that others could, she could enhance all of us just a little bit.

She called it force multiplication. Making the whole greater than the sum of its parts. A rare thing, even among humans.

The after report said that the DNL coupling on the slip reactor failed. We did not know what happened at first. Who has ever heard of a DNL coupling failing while a slip reactor was active? I never had, but then again, I would imagine that the majority of vessels that suffer it are never heard from again. In the time that it took to seal the reactor room, eight crew members died.

When we had a guess as to what had happened, a wrong guess I might add, we found that the drones were inoperable. Something for smarter people than myself. Someone would have to go into the reactor room to initiate repairs. Our crew chief began to prepare a random way to see who would do it, when she said the two most fragile words in her native tongue. The phrase is... crass, and not able to be repeated in polite company.

You must understand, for humans, they are two words that, when together, indicate a complete failure. It means that logic must now go by the wayside, that there is no good answer, but action must be taken. They are the two words of ultimate defeat. For any other people, those two words would mean that all is lost.

For humans, it means casting aside logic and reason and taking whatever course they view is the only one in front of them.

Azure insisted that she had this. That she was "good." That she could handle this. It was her expression that I remember the most. She was not showing her teeth in the ways humans mean is pleasant. She did not look focused, she did not look concerned. She looked... blissful, her family said.

We gave her what protections we could, despite her complaints that they were unnecessary. We asked her for words, and she said we would have them. And she gave them to us. She uttered one of her musical poems the entire time, one about returning home to a place called Mingulay.

Our doctors figured up the amount of time that she could be in there. Would you believe that she finished the repairs in time? She did!

And she stood there, staring at a still-active reactor, repeatedly reciting her poem. Saline falling from her eye sockets, or so I am told. We could only listen, the reactor room too dangerous to pull her out. She would have survived if we had, even if we would have died in the process.

The Gnell were the first to repeat parts of her song with her. They would not let us turn off the audio; the last words of a soul carries weight with them. I do not understand the bulk of the poem, and at first I thought it was directed to us. Let her go was an often repeated phrase in it. She repeated the poem many times rather than leave to safety. Eventually, we all repeated it in her stead.

She was long silent by the time we could safely enter. Her skin was blackened by that point, and we had to take care that her corpse would not contaminate anyone on the trip back. And yes, we all were there when her remains were returned to her kin. One does not save your life and you not be present when their remains are returned if you can help it.

It was her kin that explained. Explained how fragile she was. How her brain did not let her see the good of existence without chemical assistance. How, despite an average life, she knew misery like an old familiar acquaintance, and fought to keep others from experiencing it. And of how her last moments were happy. Happy that she was being liberated.

Ask others, and you will find many tales. How a human will see death ahead of them, and commit themselves to it. But in many of those tales, you will find them performing the impossible. The last stand of the 8th Drop Battalion, the survival of the Zhuak, the evacuation of Dnok. All of them, impossible feats. All of them, by humans who gave in to the fragility of probable death and decided...

...

Humans are fragile in ways that make them dangerous. Sometimes to themselves. Sometimes to others. A human who utters those two words is doomed to failure or the impossible. You will know it when you hear it. But for that reason, you must be careful with them.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Akmedrah on 2024-12-24 02:38:48+00:00.

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PART 34 <==H==> PART 31/36 | PART 1

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Illicia was having good dreams, mostly featuring Will and the adventures that she had been on with him. When she woke, she expected to be in a cot in some military camp, but she was surprised to find herself in her bed at Koltshelg Castle. She stretched and groaned as she did so, which prompted several maids to come in.

"How did I get here?" Illicia asked as the maids helped her dress and prepare for the day.

"Your man brought you in, about five hours ago." One of the maids said.

"It caused a right commotion when he showed up," the other maid said, "The court wizzards started panicking stating that there was a massive wave of mana coming to destroy the castle. But then Your man skidded to a stop about a mile out from the castle, with you sleeping in his arms. He carried you here, and droped you off."

"where is Will now?" Illicia asked wondering just how Will had been able to get them here so quickly.

"As far as we know, he is with his majesty." One of the maids said, and at the same time a knock on the door silenced them all. The door opened to reveal the head maid.

"Princess, your father has requested your presence." The older woman said before leaving.

Illicia smiled, "Well I guess it is time to go play my part in whatever conundrum Will has cooked up."

Roughly twenty minuets later, Illicia walked into the audience hall of the King, and both her parents rose to hug her, asking if she was alright. Will was there, wearing nicer clothes than she had ever seen him wear. She looked between her father and Will, "What happened to Viltar."

"We received a report that he was executed for trying to escape after Will departed after you." Her father said, with a smile, "I think that he knew anything that came back to him would be worse than simple death."

Illicia shrugged, to be honest she was surprised Will had not crushed the man the moment he laid eyes on him. Her father gestured for Illicia to take her seat and she did so. Will stood in front of Illicia and her family facing them, and the court was present.

"Will Garrow, son of the Hero Brock Garrow," Her father was speaking in his official voice, "grandson of the rulers of the Gob'Ran collective, and Princess's Man to Illicia Ter Koltshelg. You have performed a task for the kingdom, and for me personally that I doubt I can ever repay, but I must ask, what would you have as a reward?"

Illicia looked at Will with curiosity and saw the mischievous smile on his lips. Will bowed slightly and spoke, "Your majesty, I would ask for the hand of the princess if she will have me."

A gasp ran through the assembled nobles, as even though he was the son of the hero, and related to the leaders of another country, he was still technically a commoner. The King raised his voice, "Silence! Will, are you sure that is what you would ask for? I could give you nearly anything."

Will ignored the King and knelt on one knee before the princess. "Illicia Ter Koltshelg, I am not much, but if you would have me, I would ask you to marry me. So will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?"

Illicia was suddenly out of breath, and unable to speak so she simply nodded her head yes as tears of joy formed in her eyes. She looked to her father expectantly, and prayed he would try to contest this. Illicia was surprised when her father smiled at her, tears in his eyes, "Is this what you want my daughter?"

Illicia nodded fervently and her father chuckled. "Very well. I announce the betrothal of Will Garrow and Illicia Ter Koltshelg!"

A roar traveled up the crowd, the guards who had all spared with Will were cheering, the nobles were not happy. Cries of dismay rang out. The King raised his hand for silence. "I will hear two complaints, make them good."

The nobles quickly clustered and muttered amongst themselves for a moment before a man who looked ancient stepped forward. "Your majesty, we have come up with the two complaints we would have you hear. Firstly is the complaint of many of the nobles who have young sons that would have had the opportunity to court the princess, will they be able challenge for this right?"

The King looked like he wanted to laugh. "I suppose that until they are wed those who are willing are allowed to challenge Will to single combat."

Will spoke up, "I intend for us to be wed within the week so I will give you seven days. Send your children to me, and I will send them back to you in at least one one piece."

His comment was not missed by several nobles who had looked excited at the prospect, but now feared for their children more than worried about any accolades. The ancient man nodded. "We accept this, and any challenges will be delivered before seven days are up. Now our second complaint is that one of the primary duties of the princess if she does not wed into the nobles lines of the kingdom is to secure relations with a kingdom through marriage. If this needs to happen and she is married, what will happen?"

The king sighed. "I tasked this young man with retrieving my daughter, and he blew through at least one kingdom, and wiped one of the ancient forts from the face of this world. I challenge you to find a more tactically sound asset to secure than Will. Will do you have anything to say to this?"

"Should they wish to offer a challenge, I will accept, but know that if anyone should threaten me or my family, which will include the royal family of Kolt after our marriage, I will treat it as if I have been personally attacked." Will said all of this letting a chilling wave of mana pulse out from him, "but I am not an unreasonable man, and I am willing to forge alliances just as I am willing to enforce those alliances."

There was silence after that and the king rose smiling. "Well then, in seven days, return here for a royal wedding!"

---

PART 34 <==H==> PART 31/36 | PART 1

---

FROM THE AUTHOR: Here it is, Part 35! I hope you all enjoy it and Have A Fantastic Day! Remember from now until the end of the story every week I will post one chapter of TPM!

If You love the story please Review on Royal Road!

---

If you want to read my other stories or if you want more information about the world and my other writing, check out these places!

HFY Author Page | Akmedrah.com | World Anvil | Royal Road

---

If you want to read ahead or get access to Patron-only stories, visit my Patreon.

Patreon.com/Akmedrah

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/DrDoritosMD on 2024-12-24 01:53:51+00:00.

---

First

Early Merry Christmas everyone! I'm gonna be catching up Arcane Exfil over the next few days, until I get up to date with RoyalRoad. Enjoy your holidays!

Blurb:

When a fantasy kingdom needs heroes, they skip the high schoolers and summon hardened Delta Force operators.

Lieutenant Cole Mercer and his team are no strangers to sacrifice. After all, what are four men compared to millions of lives saved from a nuclear disaster? But as they make their last stand against insurgents, they’re unexpectedly pulled into another world—one on the brink of a demonic incursion.

Thrust into Tenria's realm of magic and steam engines, Cole discovers a power beyond anything he'd imagined: magic—a way to finally win without sacrifice, a power fantasy made real by ancient mana and perfected by modern science.

But his new world might not be so different from the old one, and the stakes remain the same: there are people who depend on him more than ever; people he might not be able to save. Cole and his team are but men, facing unimaginable odds. Even so, they may yet prove history's truth: that, at their core, the greatest heroes are always just human. 

Quick shoutout:

If you guys are interested in more military fantasy and wanna see the US military fighting dragons, check out Grimoires and Gunsmoke

---

Chapter 7: First Strike

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“Yeah, we’ll be there. Just uh, give us a few minutes to wake up and change.”

The same polite voice resounded from the door. “Of course, my lord. We shall await your convenience.”

Cole retreated to the bedrooms, shaking Miles and Ethan awake.

Miles put on his vest. “What’s goin’ on?”

“King allegedly wants to see us so he sends goons to pick us up instead of hopping on the magic mirror.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Ethan grumbled. He readied his FAL. “Plan?”

The keyhole ahead was big enough for a peek. He could try to get a look, but if these weren’t actually knights, getting close to that door was asking to catch a bullet to the eye. Good thing they had a Scrying Pane. Perhaps the other guard posts would know. 

“Give me a sec. I’ll check in with the guards.”

Cole returned to the master bedroom, moving the dial to the first guard post. 

“Yes, my lord?” A bearded face appeared, torchlight flickering behind him.

“Quick question. Did the King send anyone up to get us?”

“No, my lord.” The man frowned. “His Majesty retired hours ago. Has someone –”

“Yes.” Cole slapped the emergency rune before the guard could finish. Red light blazed across the mirror’s surface.

The pounding at the door started before the glow even faded. “OPEN THIS DOOR!”

“Yo, they’re getting antsy out here,” Ethan called out as the china set up by the door rattled.

Shit. The emergency alert worked both fucking ways, apparently.

Another slam hit the door as Cole stepped into the living room. There went any pretense of legitimacy. These fuckers had just been waiting for an excuse.

“Ain’t lookin’ good, Mercer.” Miles flipped over a heavy table, taking cover behind it.

Cole positioned himself beside Miles, flipping his weapon’s selector to auto before fishing out a flashbang from his kit. “Yeah, no kidding.”

The door pounded again, splinters of wood flying off. The hinges were probably a few more hits from complete failure – maybe a minute before whoever was on the other side could force an entry.

They needed a way out. The window was right there, bright moonlight spilling in, but… well, it probably wasn’t the best idea. Sure, he’d managed to float his pack across the room earlier with barrier magic. Moving 30 pounds several feet without slipping had been hard enough; trying to control a full descent down four stories would be suicide. And that was just him.

Miles couldn’t even keep his pack from sliding off his barrier, and Ethan’s attempt barely fared better. Maybe shape the barrier into a box and give themselves an elevator ride? 

Cole created a small proof-of-concept, the blue glow confirming it could work. Still, though, it wasn’t something he wanted to try unless absolutely necessary. 

Parachute fall? They weren’t designed for unassisted falls, but what if they could strengthen their entire bodies with magic, to absorb the shock? Same principle as their arms during training. But one screwup trying magic they’d just learned today and they’d be testing if those healers could put them back together. Not exactly Plan A material.

Service corridor? Nah. Even if they could make a chokepoint out of it, all those locked doors meant they’d just be trapping themselves. They could try following the path into the service floor, but who knew what the layout was like? Not to mention getting some maids caught in the crossfire. Heroes probably shouldn’t start their career by getting civilians killed.

What else was there? Window was out, service hall was out, and staying to fight completely hinged on help arriving promptly. They just needed any way out of this box – one that Ethan’s kit might just have a solution for. 

“Walker, think you can make a hole into the next suite?”

“Yeah.” Ethan grabbed his gear, already grabbing a breaching charge. “Four minutes, tops.”

4 minutes never sounded longer, though it wasn’t as if there were any better options. “Alright. We’ll keep ‘em busy. Let’s just hope I’m tripping.”

For once he actually hoped he was just being paranoid as fuck about these ‘knights.’ If tonight was just a false alarm, he’d gladly take the L on that one, and possibly try to find schizo meds. Castle maintenance was sure to bitch about the wall, but either way, they could take it up with whoever the fuck was trying to break down their door.

A barrier materialized ahead of Miles – akin to riot squad transparent plastic, but glowing blue. The angle and shape were good too; just enough space to work the shotgun’s barrel through.

Another hit rocked the door. Hinges had already popped out of the frame – one, maybe two more before they were gone entirely. Cole kept his thumb on the spoon of his flashbang and worked the pin out.

The door exploded inward. The first observation to grace his eyes was the fact that yes – these guys were indeed knights. Brigandine armor, tabards, just like the guys they’d seen patrolling. Most up front with swords, a couple in the back with older rifles – probably earlier versions of the ones they had messed around with earlier..

For a split second Cole wondered if he’d fucked up; if this really was some official business and he was about to flashbang legit royal guards.

But ain’t no way did a mere summons demand a whole breaching operation, nor did it warrant the use of those big-ass anti-demon rifles. He was almost flattered they considered them that much of a threat – which they were – but fuck if it wasn’t absurdly overkill. The two in the back raised their weapons, taking aim. 

And after all that talk about how bad they needed heroes? Yeah, these definitely were not the king’s men.

As muzzle flashes lit up the doorway, Cole tossed his flashbang and immediately prepped a grenade. The concussion should’ve disoriented them, at least bought them a few crucial seconds, but these guys barely even flinched. Shit, they probably had that admittedly fantastic hearing protection under their helmets. 

The frag would have to do more work then. He tossed it over the front line, the little ball of death rolling right under the doorway as Miles let his shotgun ring. Blue barriers flickered into existence at shin height while he worked the pump. 

It was the type of shit Cole wished he could’ve had available to him; God knows how useful even a trick like this would’ve been. Coveting – let alone implementing – such cheap ass moves might’ve hardly been fair or honorable, perhaps even unheroic. But it was damn effective, and all’s fair in war – especially when the enemy couldn’t care less about stealing away a solid night’s sleep.

The barriers caught their legs perfectly. First ‘knight’ hit it at a run, shins slamming straight into solid magic as the grenade detonated behind them. Somehow, tripping up seemed more effective at slowing them down.

High explosive plus frag coil in an enclosed space? That equation was supposed to equal chunks of dead motherfucker. These knights, it seemed, remained unfazed by it, barely staggering. 

Their unholy shrieks and the purple blood leaking through the gaps confirmed what he’d suspected in the split second they entered – they were not human. It also confirmed another important thing: if they could bleed, they could die.

Good thing Cole decided to go full auto.

His 5.45 zipped through their brigandine armor easily enough, and while it was a relief that modern ammunition could still hold its weight, it ultimately didn’t matter when the rounds did jack shit. They penetrated, yeah – obvious enough given the blood flowing out, but they just kept pushing, absorbing the hits like they were nothing. 

Three rounds center mass would fold any normal human. These fuckers? Barely slowed. Five rounds into the same target and it still advanced. Damn near a half a mag later and the monster was finally starting to stumble, but its sword arm was still trying to come up for a swing. He tripped it up with barrier magic to cover his reload. It was like trying to take do...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/BrilliantSprinkles18 on 2024-12-23 23:54:22+00:00.

---

A few days ago, my company assigned a human security guard to my crew on the tulpar transport ship, I was expecting any human race that was from the interhuman ministry, but it turned out to be a 100% human, that skinless ape irritated me, how was it possible that our security guard was a chubby skinless ape that only spent his time eating?

That's what I thought when we were attacked by some pirates.

"What is the code for the damn giant turtle cellar?!" Said the pirate chief

"fuck you" i said

Pirate chief: "BY-77, break its shell!"

I saw one of the pirates approach me and throw me to the ground, it was one of those amalgams of living stones, he began to hit my shell over and over again so that I would try to talk, I felt it slowly breaking, he only stopped when in the distant hallway, several cans were heard falling

Pirate chief: "is there anyone else?! BY-77, stay here and watch these turtles, move guys!"

I stayed on the ground while listening to my crew, speaking in fear

"How I hate Velquors, those damn slugs dirty everything, I just cleaned the ship today!"

"This is not the time to complain about cleaning Torvis"

Torvis: "Come on Orryni, when we walk our feet will be all sticky!"

I remained silent, it was possible since the pirates were returning, they found Otis and killed him, you can't expect much from him

Quickly, we began to hear a violent shooting, the shots resounded throughout the ship with violence, the shooting lasted about 5 or 7 minutes, it was too long for a human like Otis to resist so much.

After a while we heard footsteps, I thought it was some pirate, but me and my crew ran to see what it was... Otis! He was very badly wounded but apparently he came out of the shootout alive, the living rock didn't turn around because he was only looking at me, I'm not judging him, these amalgams are usually very stupid and follow an order blindly, Otis approached slowly without calling attention, equipped with a space foam extinguisher, used to repair open areas on ships, he used it against the amalgam, this prevented the amalgam from moving

Otis: "Don't worry guys, activate the emergency communicator, the closest protection unit is arriving here" said Otis while he freed us from the bonds"

"What happened to the pirates?!" said one of my crew members

Otis: "They're either dead or bleeding out on the ground, you know, having energy bars is useful" he laughed lightly before falling to the ground from bleeding, he was still alive of course, he still had a pulse, so our nurse quickly began to treat his wounds

The next day, everyone agreed that Otis had something to be thankful for, and I, curious, decided to talk to him when he came into the cabin to give me the daily safety briefing. I asked him how he didn't die because of the pirates' numerical superiority.

Otis: "Well, Captain Chelodar, can I nickname you Chel?"

I simply nodded

Otis: "You see, having been helping soldiers in the rearguard since you were 15 gives you experience."

Chelodar: "But, you are in very bad physical shape"

Otis: "It may be, it may be, I'm fat, but instincts never go away, I'm a veteran of the human liberation war, Captain, like almost all of my species, if I showed you a photo of me in 1966, you'd be scared, I was skin and bones at the time because there was almost no food, do you have any other questions? It's almost time for lunch."

Chelodar: I thought for a moment about my next answer "How was your participation in your war period?"

Otis: "I was an auxiliary soldier, although I was dedicated to moving ammunition from one place to another. Any other questions, Captain?"

Chelodar: "You can go to lunch Otis"

Otis left, I think that's why my company hired this human instead of other races, humans are good at security I guess

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KamchatkasRevenge on 2024-12-23 23:06:09+00:00.

---

Nadi

"Alright, I want you to take this medication for three days, then message my nurse with any remaining symptoms."

Nadi looks up at her patient, giving the young Human man a fierce look worthy of the mythological dragons that Humans sometimes said Kohbs like Nadi resemble. Or if she'd done a very good job, a pale imitation of a real dragon, her colleague Joanna McCoy.

The petty officer in question had been de-aged to his late teens in a healing coma a few months back after an accident, and had been engaging in slightly more reckless behavior than he normally would since then. A common problem for most species after a significant de-aging via healing coma. Puberty hormones were a hell of a drug and while most people could handle a young body after learning the ropes the first time, hormones were unique for every individual, never mind the differences between species.

From the report she'd received on contacting his supervisor she'd been treated to a Human griping for a solid five minutes before finally lamenting how one of his petty officers has, 'stopped acting like a grown ass man!' An amusing thought, someone in their mid twenties being grown. Even the Chief Petty Officer she'd spoken with was only in his mid thirties. Of course, the reality was that the difference between a twenty five year old and a fifteen year old Human didn't mean much to a woman who was well over a century old. Even her own husband had only gotten just over half way to his first century, though he was certainly mature and wise beyond his short years. Humans were young. As a species. As a culture. As individuals. It certainly made for them being entertaining to watch.

She checks her chart again, reviewing the unfortunate accident, or, rather, the stupid stunt he'd pulled trying to impress one of his wives or girlfriends... she hadn't introduced herself as a wife, so probably a girlfriend. Humans liked their drawn out courtships.

Nadi resists tittering into her hand as she plugs another order into her system and issues the young man a light duty chit. Most humans liked them anyway. If a woman knew her business though, she could court the galactic way. She'd managed with Jerry after all, but even after they'd wed and their first clutch had hatched, that big hunk of love hadn't even slowed down with courting her!

It was enough to give a woman a bit of an ego, even a humble woman like Nadi. However she still had work to do and daydreaming about her husband tragically wasn't her full time occupation. More specifically she needed to put the fear of the goddess, or at least Bones McCoy, into this young man so he didn't do anything too stupid again and end up in a healing coma.

"I'm also prescribing you a hormone suppressant shot. It won't impact your body's renewed development, but you won't feel the effects of them nearly as strongly. You need to remember petty officer, you're not a teenage boy. You are a grown ass man and I expect you to act like it. So you'll take both medications, and stay off that ankle for a week. If I hear you've been out screwing around instead of recovering I'll have you confined to quarters until Doctor McCoy gives you a clean bill of health. Clear?"

The petty officer gulps, looking around like he was expecting the Crimson Tear's most infamous medical professional to appear just by mentioning her name.

"Ah yes, ma'am. Light duty. Take meds. Suppressant. Anything else?"

"You might want to ask the young lady who brought you in for help. I'm sure she'd be happy to assist your wives with looking after you."

"You think so?"

The look on the petty officer's newly young again face as he doubted his ability for a moment to succeed with the pretty girl he'd been trying to impress was adorable. It was also more than a little hilarious considering he was married several times over, but neither emotion could escape past Nadi's mask of perfect professionalism.

She adjusts her glasses before giving the Human her best unimpressed look over the rim of her frames, her cold gaze clearly cutting him down to size a bit. Also funny when he had a good two and a half feet of height on her. However, Doctor McCoy wasn't the only doctor in the ship who could deliver a dose of wit or ruthless criticism where needed and by her estimation this particular individual needed a swift kick in the seat of the pants.

Probably not literally. Which was just as well considering she'd need to get a ladder.

"Petty officer, I will again remind you you're a grown ass man and married several times over. Surely you're a bit more confident with women than this."

"...Oh. Yeah. That's uh. That's a good point. I just got kinda. Nervous. Or something."

"Hmm. I'm upping the dose on that suppressant, you're clearly getting run over by a air car. Must be the peak of your hormone surges. Anyway, To the pharmacy with you, then check out at the front desk. They'll have your light duty chit."

"Yes ma'am."

Nadi finally allows herself to smile as the petty officer vacates her exam room and she pages in one of her corpsmen to clean up.

"Is that the last one for sick call?"

The agreeable young Tret woman nods eagerly, one stripe, as junior as they came, Nadi hadn't even managed to memorize her name yet which was mildly embarrassing, if easy to cover for with military protocol.

"Yes ma'am. Last patient for the day."

"Alright do a final clean and then help the others with the rest of the exam rooms. I'll do the end of day paperwork for the clinic."

"I think Chief's already on it, one of the nurses is helping. Lieutenant... Glass or something like that?"

"That's right, her name is 'Glass'. An English word."

"It's an interesting one, never heard anything quite like before!"

"She took her husband's sur name Human style after she got married like I did, I believe."

"That makes sense!"

Nadi smiles at the corpsman's back as she heads out into the hallway. Young, eager, and excited to be out on an adventure. Thankfully in a much more respectable and safer capacity than joining a pirate crew or something. Lots of girls did that in the galaxy, or joined a small-time gang, or did some other dumb shit for a few years and it frequently ended in tragedy. It certainly had for one of Nadi's clutch sisters, the poor girl had died in a shoot out while Nadi had been finishing her genetic medicine residency.

"Hmmm. Haven't thought of Nilti in a long time... Been too busy, but then I suppose it really has been a long time since we lost her. Though I can't help but wonder if we lost her the day she died, or if we lost her the day she left? Something to consider... and watch out for with my own children."

"Talking to yourself again, Doctor?"

Jerry's voice jars Nadi from her thoughts.

"Darling!"

She launches herself at her husband, the axiom she'd been studying recently letting her get a proper leap to embrace her big ape. His arms wrap around her as he pulls her in tight and she immediately feels like she's home again.

"Mhmmm. I missed you."

"I missed you too Nadi. I always miss you girls during the work day."

"I know, it's one of the best, and worst parts of going to work. I hate being apart, but missing you, and knowing you miss me makes me feel so special."

The petite woman grins up at her husband.

"Plus, you can't enjoy coming home if you never leave."

"True, and it's not like home's very far away for us."

"Exactly."

"Are you done for the day?"

Nadi glances back at her desk and shrugs. "I have some paperwork to do, but I can do it from my terminal at home. So we might as well go home."

"Sounds like a plan, do you want to walk? Or ride?"

"Ride please! Much easier to cuddle with you when I'm riding."

"As the good doctor wishes."

Nadi quickly shifts around to her favorite place to be when out with her husband. She might not be a giant like Jaruna, or able to easily match her husband's stride like some of the girls closer to his height, but she was the only one who could comfortably ride on his back, her head tucking up over his shoulder to plant a kiss on his cheek. She wasn't unique in this particular behavior of course, it was a favorite of all Kohbs with appropriately sized mates. She had a male cousin who loved riding on his larger wives' shoulders too.

As they get in the lift and head towards the Den, Nadi's struck by a thought. Normally she always knew when Jerry was around because someone would call the room to attention or announce 'Admiral on deck!', yet, no one had done so today. She goes through a variety of options, including his knack for Yauya style invisibility and high velocity movement, but sets them aside in favor of just asking.

"How did you get past all the corpsmen without someone calling the compartment to attention or announcing you?"

Jerry smiles over at Nadi, a twinkle in his eye.

"Policy change I made with Doctor McCoy, even though it's already in place for active life saving spaces, the entire sick bay is now not to call attention or announce myself, Doctor McCoy or the skipper, or anyone else. Up to and including Admiral Cistern. The corpsmen have more important things to be doing with their time then stopping everything or making an announcement."

That grin of Jerry's shifts to a familiar half smile, something Nadi was used to seeing when her beloved spouse was up to no good.

"Plus it makes it much easier to drop in on people unannounced. Bones in particular was very eager to inspect her own internal c...

---

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/AdventurousRun6351 on 2024-12-23 20:01:18+00:00.

---

Tamix was not too pleased with his current assignment. Normally, he wouldn't complain about his job. He loved it; it was the one he had always wanted and had worked so hard to achieve. But like all dream jobs, it had its problems, and that problem was a Terran called Skyler.

Tamix was a member of the Horraminx, a race that existed during the Ineergaltic Congresstions' Bronze Age. They were medium-sized upright creatures resembling what Terran called a vole, whatever that was. Shades of brown and cream decorate her furry body with a long, pink, wiggly nose, beady black eyes, small round ears, and a short hairless tail. During their integration, they gladly took up the role of planetary exploration, charting, mapping, and classifying known planets with habitable atmospheres and any life present, intelligent or otherwise. However, as time goes on and things improve, old information needs updating or gets lost. So, the Horraminx take it upon themselves to rechart, remap, and reclassify planets.

While Tamix loves to travel the void of space and chart the surfaces of planets and the stars they surround, she doesn't like traveling with company. Horraminx is solitary by nature, and due to the orders of the high council, she is required to have a second person traveling with her for safety. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but her co-worker was someone she couldn't stand!

Skyler was a mess, to put it kindly. He was cheerful, loud, and overly friendly. He had wild red hair that he only tied back into a ponytail or bun, tanned skin with tons of freckles, and eyes so blue it hurt her eyes to look at them directly. Horraminx likes calm and quiet, which is why she likes her job so much. She also had the freedom to chart planets however she wanted as long as she did it within the given time bracket. She even got to bring her own personal mount with her to explore the planet's surface, as long as it had a breathable atmosphere.

Goldie was a Fleet Mare, a species native to her planet. Fleet mares were used as a source of food, transportation, and work. While they weren't strong, they were fast and quick. They have colored shades of green and blue with long, spindly legs, oval bodies with no hair, no tails, long necks, and oval heads with three eyes set upon stalks. They made the most pleasant soft sounds, which were like humming or soft chirps, hardly smelled, and were as gentle as a flower. Goldie was her best friend, and they had been together since she was a pink-colored colt. In addition, she had three golden stripes running the length of her body since birth, thus her name.

Skyler also had his own mount that Tamix despised. A creature called a donkey that was named Little Laugh or LL for short. While Goldie was long, sleek, and elegant, LL couldn't be any more of the opposite if he tried. It was short, stubborn, gross, smelled, and made the most horrible sounds ever produced by any creature! Everything about this thing was nearly as awful as Skyler if Skyler didn't bathe and was even more unyielding.

LL would flap his lips and wag his tongue, spreading saliva everywhere for attention. Its body stank almost as bad as the food it ate but not half as bad as the feces it produced. Tamix couldn't handle the creature since it only listened to Skyler, and it would try to buck her if she pushed LL too far. Sometimes, he would nip at her to get a reaction. And the sound it made, braying as Skyler called it, was so loud and unnecessary for any animal to have. And LL did it all the time for seemingly no reason! Goldie had none of these flaws. And Skyler loves the hell out of it.

But her mind changed when they went to the planet of Okara in the Flee-Flay system. A planet that was half the size of Terra Prime and was host to a breathable atmosphere, three lake-sized oceans, an open plain with rolling hills, a single mountain range where fresh water flowed into streams, and small patches of forests. At first, this planet was considered a class 5 deathworld, but now Tamix was considering reclassifying it as a class 7 deathworld for several reasons. Besides the size of the planet, amount of biodiversity, and rising elevations, the terrain had changed significantly with another ocen lake opening and the recent discovery of several kinds of airborne particles, plants, and undiscovered animals, most of which were predatory. Definitely worth the higher classification.

But Skyler didn't agree. She saw that the whole planet wasn't too different from her home country of Midwest America, which wasn't deadly as long as you weren't too relaxed and unobservant away from any civilization. But the high council had their ways and methods for classifications, and his words wouldn't dissuade them or Tamix. So, the classification stayed.

When they finally got onto the planet's surface, Tamix calibrated the drones to start mapping the planet. Typically, people in her profession could let the machines do all the work for them from the safety of the ship. But Tamix wanted to explore and take it all in, so after the drones went out to take measurements and record topography, she saddled up Goldie and packed the essentials, including her eco blaster, a gun that shot high-pressured sound waves; she set off to record plant life, take pictures of the scenery for the report, and reclassify any animals she came across.

Unfortunately for her, Skyler joined her with LL. While Tamix wanted a calm and relaxing walk across the hills, Skyler made it more of a game than anything. Trying to get her to race, trying to whistle but having it come out as raspberries, yelling to hear the echo, and, of course, there was LL. All it wanted to do was try to play with Goldie, who wanted to have it, nip playfully at Tamix no matter how many times she hissed at him, and try to get into every picture she took while lifting its lips and showing his teeth. Skyler thought it was hilarious, but Tamix wasn't laughing.

But with all their flaws, she could deny two things. Humans were resourceful, strong, and quick. Skyler could set up a tent, make a fire, and prepare food in half the time she could. And LL was far stronger than he looked, able to carry Skyler, who wasn't small, and all other camping equipment for when it was needed. Eventually, they took a break by a small bracket of woodland at the top of a hill, which overlooked a large view well into the horizon.

Tamix demounted and decided to set up a few cameras to capture a pantomimic view of everything around them. Skyler dismounted from LL and allowed him to run off and frolic, even with all the stuff it carried. He only returned to ask for the items to be removed so they could roll around in the grass or down the hill. All the while, Goldie stood silently and calmly next to Tamix, gently nibbling the grass and glaring at LL.

As the cameras recorded images, Sklyer finally became silent. He lay on the grassy hill and looked up at the rolling clouds with a piece of grass in his mouth. LL found a loose root from a tree to play around with before throwing it into the air and chasing after where it fell.

Tamix watched this and finally spoke to Skyler, asking him, "Seriously, why do you like that gross, smelly, loud creature so much? It's so stubborn and crazy."

"I don't see why you don't like him. Donkeys are great. Sure, they're strange, but you would be two if you were the redheaded stepchild of the equine family." Skyler playfully argued back while spitting the grass out of his mouth.

"Any other reasons?", Tamix asked back while checking how the pictures came out.

"They are smart, strong, and very self-sufficient. While horses will entrust you with their lives, a donkey will preserve its own and know how to do it. If they like you, they'll make sure to protect you as well.", Skyler explained while standing up to get a snack from one of the sacks.

Tamix looked over at Ll again and saw him scratching his butt on a boulder while making a strange face. She sighed and said, "Charming. Can't imagine such a small creature doing little more to protect itself other than screaming."

Seeing that the pictures came out nicely and that it was still noon, she decided to go to another area before calling it a day. Seeing that the canteen was already empty, she looked around and saw a small river running nearby. So she told Skyler, who smiled and waved her off, "Im gonna go get a drink from the river. I'll be back in a second."

Suddenly, LL stopped scratching his butt and stood up fast with his ear held high and eyes scanning the area. As he saw Tamix starting to walk down the hill, he ran up to her, braying louder than he normally did, scaring her back to Skyler!

She ran back to the man to hide behind him, especially from the sound, and yelled, "Oh geez! What's he yelling about this time?"

"Not sure, this is a different kind of bray.", Skyler admitted while approaching Ll and petting his muzzle to calm him down. "What's wrong, LL? You hear something."

He still didn't calm down and still made growling noises as he tried to push him and Tamix away from the hill. Skyler tried to look around for whatever was spooking him until his eyes fell upon a shape in the grass near the woods. When he looked closer, he saw a creature that resembled a cougar from Terra Prime but longer, had six limbs, and was colored a shade of purple so dark it looked black. Its eyes were amber, and it slinked through the grass but stopped when Sky...

---

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/MrIzuarel on 2024-12-23 18:39:49+00:00.

---

Chapter 136

After solving that small disaster with the farm creation, I finally arrived at the capitol and prepared for my search.

The plan was simple. Take a human appearance and talk to the locals about the newest gossip and events in the capitol. For that plan, I could not simply use the first rank of my disguising skill. That rank had clothes from my world. How do I explain what denim fabric is when most people wore wool pants?

The second rank was necessary. This was preferential as rank one had also my trusted glasses, something that had become a pure esthetic object thanks to my system...

First, I needed some regular clothing, which turned out to be a wishful thing on my part. Most people wore dirty clothes and second-hand wear that was comparable with rags. Without stealing, I would not get any of those.

I was not against stealing from those people, but during the day, the kept the laundry hanging high above the ground, where I could not reach them without causing some unwanted commotion, and during the night, they carried the clothes back inside their homes.

Such clothing was also not in my crafting abilities, so I had to improvise. Brown shirt and some unimpressive leder armor over the rest of the body. I even got myself some simple short sword with a scabbard attached to my belt.

After choosing my disguise carefully, I rolled in the dirt a few times to get my equipment a bit dirty. I even jumped into a river just to make it a bit more credible. I had to do such a thing during the night as during the day there were too many eyes looking around.

I waited inside my dungeon for the next day. I have to admit that jumping into the river wasn't the best choice as the water didn't smell too good. While I was drying, my girls complained a lot, so I was forced to isolate myself a bit because of it.

Once dry and the sun out, I set my plan into motion.

I came out of the dungeon with two big boxes of fruits. It was mostly apples as those fruits were easier to sell.

I went to the market and tried to sell the boxes to a farmer. The poor guy was so confused that I had to apologize to him. He was right to be confused. Why would anyone sell fruits to a producer who wanted to sell fruits themselves? That doesn't make any sense.

So I looked around, asked for the price of similar fruits, and decided to simply put my boxes next to me and sell them to individual costumers.

My apples were bigger and looked better than most other fruits on the market, so I had quite a few housewives come to me and buy a few of them. The selling of the fruits went especially well after some child asked their mother for one and was overjoyed by the taste.

During that time, I talked a bit with the people around me and asked for the newest events of the city.

Unfortunately, that ended in a dead-end because the newest hero had not been announced to the public.

After selling the last of my fruits, I went away. I carefully placed the two empty wooden boxes in my inventory only after being covered from curious eyes.

My next goal was the guild of adventurers. From what I knew, the guild of hunters and the guild of adventurers were the only two guilds that dealt with monsters and had the backing of the royal family. This gave them special privileges and prestige, but for me, they were a possible source of information.

Both guilds shared one building, and when I entered, I noticed something strange. It was mostly empty, and the staff of that building seemed bored or depressed, or something along those lines. I was a bit surprised, but after some talking, I found out that my actions actually caused a collapse of the job market for those two guilds.

Hunters went and destroyed monsters that threatened the merchants on the road, and adventurers entered dungeons to collect treasures from the treasure chests inside those dungeons. Apparently, my actions had decimated the monsters in the wild while the dungeons appeared empty for the adventurers. Or almost. They found all the junk I had tossed out whenever I restarted a dungeon and filled it up with my trash.

I was a bit sorry, but not enough to express it openly to them.

I snooped around with the intention of losing some tongues with alcohol, but all I found was some bored staff. Even these people didn't know anything about the new hero, so I let it go.

Noticing that this was also a dead-end, I had no other choice than to go for broke, only to realize that my next step was doomed to fail before it even started.

I had the idea of faking an important message for Morrigan, but that would also fail as I had nothing that could prove my identity or that such message even existed. I had no idea what Nobles did when sending messages to other people. I thought about parchment with nobles wax seal, but that happened in my world, where magic didn't exist.

I was cooked.

Other than violence, I didn't see any way I could reach Melissa in a rapid manner. And I didn't want her to see me as a villain, so that was also not a good idea.

I simply didn't have the time to work my way up the military ladder to get access to restricted information. And yes, it had to be the military way because I sucked at magic, like always.

It was at that moment that an idea came to me. I could force her to come into contact with me while looking like the good guy, even if I used violence to get her to do it.

The scepter of heroes!

I was certain they had a new one somewhere in the mages tower. If I attacked the tower and stole the scepter, then Morrigan would be forced to come into contact with me, and therefore, Melissa.

The problem was the fact that I could not transport to with my dungeon teleport, so I would have to breach the building and take it out while mages, soldiers and half of the city would try to stop me.

It was a way to get their attention, and with it the attention of everyone, but I had no other choice.

First step, locate the scepter. The easiest way was again to lose my physical body and roam the building as a ghost.

I wasn't thrilled by that idea because it would mean I would have to grab another hornet and let it stab me a few hundred times again. I had had such a great time the first time it happened, so let's do it a second time, with a smile.

It took only a short moment to find it, but I did. And with that started the great plan to break in, take it, and run away.

First / Previous / Index / Next

Op note: I only wanted to say that I will possibly only post the next chapter after the new year arrives. Maybe posting a one-shot. Want to enjoy the following days with my family and have a mental rest.

Happy holidays, everyone.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/luckydayned on 2024-12-23 17:12:38+00:00.

---

Alex had been aboard the Darmi’s Pride for only a fortnight and the crew were already wrapped around the human’s fingers. As the latest arrival to the galactic stage, humans were not particularly impressive technologically. Their militaries posed no real threat, and they were dirt poor compared to their galactic neighbors. They walked onto the political stage with everyone else playing with loaded dice, deep pockets, and a bigger stick to back it all up. So, what could we bring to the table to compete in such a ruthless environment? We had seen worse and done worse to each other in every way. We were used to playing unfair. The only thing that kept our irrational minds into focus is speech. The gift given only to us until we had reached the stars. We gibbering monkeys are quite good at it in fact. What we didn’t know, was that we were the best.

No other species communicated verbally at the extent that humans do, so Alex had put this to work. Because in the warfare of conversation, where wit is your main armament, you must come armed to the teeth. Alex could out-fox all of the crew, including the captain, with ease. You see, talks can turn into tall tales and outright lies if humans get the chance. Deception combined humor had gotten Alex a promotion and raise.

Often Alex wondered how the other humans were doing in their respective fields. Lawyers seemed to be devouring galactic law like a fat kid eats cake. There were so many contradictions in the long history of the galactic community that any good argument could get you just about anything you wanted. The corporations were having a field day. Orion Mining Corp had argued based on religious law that the Alintak, Alnilam and, Mintaka star systems were ours by divine right, and it worked...

Stargazing hobbyists became valuable consultants for governments and businesses alike. You might think that pilots caught the next big windfall? You might be wrong. It turns out that you don’t need pilots when you demand transportation upon the basis of a religious exodus/pilgrimage. Humans didn’t need to advance FTL technology because they could claim that these holy places had been violated and that the offending species needed to provide compensation for damages. So, travel was pretty much free anywhere you wanted to go.

And who would attack the newest species? No one would. I mean what are you going to do? Punch down at the little guy? Where is the honor in that? Diplomats couldn’t believe how easy it was to make peace. So, Alex was a diplomat, disguised as a priest (I think Egyptian this time?), working on behalf of 3 governments and no less than 14 corporations, impersonating an officer and about 300 lightyears in over their head. Alex thrived in the chaos. How many lies and stories went into maintaining the charade was one for the ages. Alex had heard that one husband and wife had talked their way onto the imperial throne of a whole star nation. Demigods, if you believe the newest propaganda coming from that corner of the cosmos.

Alex wasn’t that ambitious, that seemed like a bit too much work for one person to maintain. A master bullshitter Alex was, but not a savant. Besides what is the purpose of pulling something like that off if there is no one to share it with or tell it to?

The captain was firmly in the belief that humans, Alex in particular, could start or stop any argument at any time. On one hand, the crew had never run so smoothly, on the other, he wasn’t sure if they really saw him as the captain anymore. Alex knew that by tomorrow the captainship of the vessel would pass into human hands through the democratic assemblage of the crew, spontaneously I assure you. This was just the way things went sometime. At the end of the voyage Alex would just have to gracefully surrender the position back to the captain and then rinse repeat anywhere a ship came and went that Alex wanted to go.

The galaxy was full of fresh life, untasted by humans, and Alex was determined to drink as much of it in as possible. Compliments worked wonders. Any food you wanted to try, that was compatible with human physiology, was always freely given in the name of cultural exchange. If someone actually tried to charge you currency for something you could always just haggle them down to a favor or any old piece of junk that had been blessed to bring prosperity. The number of rags to riches stories that Alex had made up was starting to get quite long, but the tab never did. Drinks were always free for the right combination of compliments, stories, and again, outright lies. Alex was starting to think that all of this would start giving humans a bad name. The intricate web would collapse in on itself and suddenly be trapped in one of those rare tight spots. Even if it happened, Alex could talk their way out of a prison cell. Error is the death of eloquence and Alex was a hardened perfectionist.

Does that mean that the end of the adventure was near or was this only the beginning? Alex liked to think that every day was the middle, another chapter that others had been falling in and out of. Tomorrow would be another good day.