u/KyleKKent

(Oh my god I can’t focus, day before a trip and some random bullshit happens while I’m trying to write an emotionally fraught chapter? Are you fucking joking? And when I’m fresh from being reminded why I sometimes silently pray for the erasure of all phones from existence?)

First

Many Faces of War

“So... does being a sorcerer mean being a serial killer? I’ve seen the Bonechewer movies and...?” Eric asks. There is clear concern on his face.

“No, that’s... uh... Sorcerers are connected to an entire area that’s alive as both individual beings and as a whole thing. It has a different method of retaining memory and remembering things and that... uh... well it makes sorcerers vengeful. Basically a sorcerer never forgets something our memories are fresh and strong thanks to the forest so a big, huge personal injury? That never goes away. It stays traumatic and painful until something is done about it. Then the memory of the pain is tied into the memory of the relief. It’s why the Bonechewer keeps showing up, the people that did him wrong aren’t individuals, it’s an organization. One that new generations of criminals keep taking up the banner of and setting him off like a bomb.”

“And you?”

“I’ve already gotten my revenge. What I didn’t defer to other, more upset sorcerers.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I only really get upset at the people who were part of The Supple Satisfaction, either as customer or employee that escaped justice. And I know a fair amount did. And about... half the ones that were employees are people I can recognize on sight.”

“And what did you do to them?”

“I fought them to submission, then gave them to the Apuk authorities. They’re going to publicly execute her. You see the Apuk Empress has a vested interest in ‘taming’ sorcerers and she does this by encouraging things like that and a bunch of legal nonsense that basically backdoored a citizenship to the Apuk Empire.”

“Has it now?”

“Yes... so that would make me... Fleetborn, Undaunted and Apuk Imperial Citizen.” Jacob notes. “Still nothing compared to some of the other Undaunted but... Sorry, that was off topic. I’m not really sure how to talk to you or...”

An alarm starts going off. “Okay, alright, fine.” He mutters.

He checks the communicator and nods. “Okay... no one here was ready for this today and that includes me. I am out of time. My legal break is at the five minute warning mark so I need to be back in my pilot seat. Okay... alright. Sister? Cousin, whatever the actual proper title is in our family. I need everyone’s contact information right quick. I’ll give you mine so you can send things to me. It’s time we all started talking again and get to know each other, but I need to get back to work. I have a ship to run.”

“Right, as soon as you can send me the identifiers of your ship so if, no when, we have our fleet close to your ship there will be no mistaking things.” Chloe says.

“Okay, yes I... yes mother. Juliette? Communicator?” Jacob asks and she pulls out hers and he brings out his own. IN moments she has his contact information and the moment he confirms it he gives everyone a look and a smile. Then hugs Juliette. “Weird luck eh? Gotta go now, and if you need me back in an emergency tap the flower.”

“The flower? What flower?” Juliette asks but Jacob has already vanished.

“There’s a white six petalled flower in your headfeathers.” Eric notes gesturing above his right eye on her and she quickly uses the screen on her communicator as a quick mirror to check. It’s a lovely thing. “Uh... Juliette dear? Could you check the privacy settings on the holo-chamber you’re in really quick?”

“Of course, just give me a moment.” She says and quickly heads out. Confers with Private Stream who sets things to private and turns off the recording for her. Then she goes back in. “We’re in the clear. As far as I can tell... Now what the hell do we do!?”

“Juliette!” Amanda protests in reflexive surprise.

“No! No! Nothing of that! Him vanishing was HORRIFYING and now he’s back thirty five years later but with only solid memories of the last twenty! He spent fifteen fucking years as a sex toy to psychopaths! Literal fucking years! As a child! A son of our family! Fucked! Years! As a child!”

“I know! I know. Fuck! Good fucking grief! Just... FUCK! FUCK! What do we... what can we? How does this get solved!? Oh good grief getting a definitive answer as to what happened to him did not make anything better!” Eric exclaims as he starts to pace. Everyone’s calm and hopeful faces were gone and there was panic, horror, deep revulsion and more all around instead.

“What even happened with him!? You guys told me NOTHING about it and buried it!” Juliette accuses them.

“We didn’t know! We couldn’t find out! He went off on a huff with a line of credit, drank himself stupid, maxed out his debt and then just vanished! The trail went so cold so fast that we had no idea what happened!”

“How did he even get into that situation?! He’s a male! We have so few why wasn’t he protected?!”

“We thought he was protected! We had contacts in the local police and we were going to basically buy off the loan sharks to deal with things and force the debt on him to try and teach him some goddess be damned responsibility and to calm him down and teach him some important lessons, but he was spirited away! Apparently by demons and straight into the depths of hell!”

“This is beyond fucked up.”

“What do we do?” Juliette demands.

“We make this right. Somehow.” Eric says.

“Okay, great. How?” Juliette demands.

“We figure that out. We failed him, failed hard and need to make this right.”

“Eric, I’ve been following the scandal of Lil Tulelb. It was a child trafficking ring. A brothel. Children used for the pleasure. Used in disgusting, horrifying ways. I’ve... some footage from the clients ‘fun’ has leaked. It’s... it’s horrifying.” Juliette’s uncle Duncan notes.

“Dunk...”

“Just... listen. When he said everything short of murder he wasn’t kidding. Some of the videos include staff members rushing into stop a particularly bloodthirsty rich woman from actively trying to kill the child and explaining that the price moves over by several decimal places if they kill the child. And according to rumours, some of them actually did it. Paid the full price and everything.”

There are dry heaves, sounds of utter horror and very pale faces all around.

“We almost lost him forever to a random whim.”

“Oh it gets worse than that. He doesn’t get it. Whatever loyalty we had or whatever is just gone. Who he was before. Gone. Just gone and now we have a trained warrior and an Axiom Adept who can apparently teleport at Light Years distance.”

“You’re all missing hte point that we failed a child of our own family so badly that he’s NOT that child anymore. Jacob is Dead because of our neglagence and now we have Jacob the second, happy to and more than capable of murder edition! Sweet Thermals!”

“Okay, everyone calm down! All of you!” Eric barks. He takes a deep breath and huffs. “None of us expectd this. Jacob apparently didn’t either. We messed up, yes. We are in an extremely messed up situation. Also yes. But we are adults, we are rational, reasonable people with functioning brains. We can find a way to solve it. And for that, we need to help him. To heal him and to do that we first need to figure out exactly what the damage is. We need to talk to him. A lot. We need to be delicate and careful and compassionate about this, because none of us know exactly how much or how little of a nightmare is inside his head. He’s been gone for thirty five years. He had escaped twenty years ago and then instead of running to safety, he found he didn’t know the way and went back to his abusers to sabotage them. How he did this? I don’t know. We need to figure that out. Why he did that, we don’t know. We need to figure that out. Finally, what did he actually do during his time as a saboteur? What lines did he cross? What did he see? What was done to him? How did a child get work at a child brothel without turning into product?”

“Oh sweet ancestors...”

“There is so much we’re missing and every part of the puzzle we have is razorwire and nightmare.”

“Why did he call his ship The Bloody Heron? Did a Coastglider help him or something?” Someone asks as Juliette finishes fiddling with her communicator. With her Uncle Eric taking up all the attention she had decided to get some things done.

Then everyone’s communicator goes off.

“Oh no... Jacob that’s not fair.” Juliette mutters as the first photo of many shows up. It’s an image of a large, repurposed Lydris craft with tons of armour and weapons. The caption is ‘So... my Ship! This is what family does right we try and talk to each other? I don’t know.’

“... Okay, so his home is a war machine...” Eric notes before the second image comes in showing an incredibly elaborate pilot’s seat which had been redesigned for use with talons primarily and numerous screens overhead in a mildly dark room. The caption this time reads. ‘The pilot’s seat and main screens. When it’s darker in here it’s easier to focus on things and just get into that place where the ship is just an extension of yourself.’

Or at least he had tried, the word extension is badly misspelled and then two other misspellings are spammed right afterwards before he properly gets the word extension down.

Then it shows the image of a young Apuk man literally trying to dodge the camera as he trails a cloud of dust with an annoyed look on his face. ‘Arden! The other Lush Forest Sorcerer! Kinda like a sworn brother but different.’

“At least he has friends.” Eric notes just in time for the next sent image to be instead a small bundle of older pictures of people in military uniform goofing off or being given a stern look by a massive Tret man who has muscle on the muscles of his muscles. ‘Bjorn and the platoon! More pain than the full payload of my cannons, special delivery to whoever needs an asskicking!’

Then the image of a large engine setup is next. ‘This took pain, lost feathers, more than a few impromptu showers in coolant or engine grease and a lot of trial and error to get working. He hums happily now.’

“That... Okay, his ship is either far larger than that first photo, or he has some monstrous acceleration on that thing.”

“Did he build that ship himself?” Someone asks and Eric sighs before typing out the question into the group chat that Jacob had set up for this.

‘Did you refurbish that whole ship yourself?’

‘I did! Took most all the money I could beg, borrow or steal until things really got rolling. The first non-essential I installed when I was done was a proper bed so I could get off the rags I was using as a nest until then.’ Jacob sends back.

“Rags? He was sleeping on rags.” Someone asks.

“This is all going to get so much worse before it gets better.” Eric mutters, mostly to himself. His answer to Jacob is something else. ‘Please tell me you at least have a comfortable bedroom.’

The reply is an image of a large, overstuffed bed, a music player in the corner, a perch with extra padding, several memory braids hanging from a post and numerous potted plants scattered throughout a very comfortable looking bedroom.

‘I think I’m doing alright.’ Is Jacob’s answer. ‘Although the picture isn’t fully accurate. It’s gotten so comfortable in there that numerous moths, small lizards, birds and snakes will often come in from The Lush forest to nap where there’s no predators at all. They like it there and I like having them there. Like these guys!’

The following image is of a small, spiked lizard looking very intently at a small white moth perched on it’s nose.

“Okay, so is he wholesome or horrifying?” Juliette asks.

“Both.” Eric notes.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Ship Helm/Pilot’s Chamber, The Bloody Heron, Between Systems)•-•-•

“So... You have a lot to take in.” Arden notes as Jacob is brooding in his pilot’s seat, talons off the controls and wings steepled together in deep thought. Arden had been the one sending the messages to provoke a reaction from Jacob’s family as he observed them through the flower he left in Juliette’s hair and thought about things. Thought about a lot of things and from Arden’s perspective Jacob’s mind was a roiling storm of thoughts and all sorts of different ides and issues slipped through. Then he suddenly lets out a chuckle. “OH? What are you going to do?”

“What am I going to do? I’ll tell you what I’m going to do Arden.” Jacob says with a smirk. “I’m going to do one thing in three ways. Undaunted, Sorcerer and Shriketalon. Something impossible, something vicious that twists the knife, and yet something peaceful.”

“And what could that possibly be?” Arden demands.

“I forgive them.” Jacob says and Arden gapes for a moment. His eyes search and there is a sensation of him trying to read Jacob’s intent and thoughts through their connection to The Lush Forest. But...

“You’re an asshole, that’s going to make it worse.” Arden says in mild awe as he realizes Jacob is being completely sincere.

“I know right?” Jacob asks with a grin and Arden starts to laugh. He then turns away and thinks again.

“And now you’re confused.”

“... I like who am I now and hate who I used to be. Did those fuckers on Lilb Tulelb do me a favour?”

“No. No they did not.” Arden states outright.

“Yeah, fuck em. Still, fucked up situation. Best I can do is offload all the trauma by refusing to pick it up. I forgive them, fuck I don’t even remember what to forgive them for and am disinclined to try and get those memories back. So moving the fuck on.”

“I think I can hear the nearest therapist screaming through the vacuum of space.” Arden notes dryly.

“Oh so it’s not just me? Fancy that.” Jacob says.

First Last

First

Many Faces of War

An emergency call for the heads of the family branches and the husbands was not a normal occurrence. But Juliette, Amanda’s Juliette not her own or Emily’s Juliette had basically spammed every single code that says ‘take this seriously’ and ‘I need help’ into the message.

So every fleet captain and her husband was at attendance in a holo-chamber on each ship as they all connect to a room in some place on Zalwore that wasn’t the Shriketalon Enclave. Which was worrying enough as is.

Then the rooms synchronize, taking three seconds but all the signs and warnings had everyone nervous. Then...

Her niece and a familiar... very familiar Shriketalon. She shares looks along her sisters. Shriketalons and Redfeathers interbreed fairly often and the pattern and plumage can swap back and forth like trading outfits. But coupled with that face. Those cheekbones... The exact shade of yellow in his eyes.

There is only one Astra Shriketalon man unaccounted for. But the body language on this man is worlds apart from Jacob. Fuck, the way he’s carrying himself this man is physically speaking a tongue that was born of another species entirely from Jacob’s drunken bitterness.

How the hell did they fail that boy so badly? It had been a shipwreck out of nowhere and everything had burnt to slag and sunken into a metaphorical ocean before anyone could even understand what they were seeing and he was just gone.

A person slipping into the cracks of society was tragic, but someone seemingly precision guiding themselves into one and vanishing was something else entirely.

And that’s not even touching the fact that the man is in a military uniform without any signifiers for being a medic and several weapons clearly on his person.

He turns to Juliette. “So how do we start this?”

“I really don’t know.” Juliette answers him.

“Fine! Hello family. I am Jacob. I have severe amnesia with everything past the age of seven gone and forced to raise myself while either hiding from a powerful organization that wished me ill or infiltrating the organization to sabotage it from the inside out in preparation to make full on war with it. I am a professional soldier, ship captain and warrior and have killed many people but for some reason Juliette insists that I won’t be rejected outright and that I’m missing so much cultural context now that she doesn’t even know where to start.”

“Oh sweet fucking goddess Jacob.” Juliette groans into her wings.

“What?!” He demands sounding offended. “No amount of flapping around the issue was going to solve it! Sink your talons in and tear it off! Now we got something to work with!”

“Okay, hold up! Wait a minute! Something isn’t right!” Someone says and it’s Mary-Ann, oh thank goodness something’s about to make sense. “You have at least DNA tested this man?”

“Yes. He’s been tested. This is Jacob.”

“Where were you!? What happened?! What is going on with all... that?” She demands before walking up and moving to examine him. As it’s all a holographic projection she can’t move him. But he moves with it and looks her right in the eyes. He’s studying her face. She’s a stranger to him. He... there is a flicker of recognition as his expression changes bit by bit and...

“Mom?”

“What did they do to you?” She asks.

“Probably everything short of murder. Then they hit me with a tainted healing coma and reset me to fresh for the next monster.”

“Lilb Tulelb... that’s where you vanished. It’s drowning in scandal. Children... how are you a grown man after all that?” She asks as it all starts coming together in a gruesome image.

“I escaped, but didn’t know how to run home. So I did the only thing I could, I went back to try and help the others. But even after two decades of trying, my best wasn’t enough. Thankfully The Undaunted filled in the gaps and stopped me from making any mistakes. I’ve been with them since. Training, growing stronger, getting ready for the next time something like that is found. To make sure my next attack on an organization of soulless monsters leaves neither survivors nor doubt.”

“Jacob are you trying to be... no of course you are. Sweet Goddess. Aunt Chloe he no longer has an understanding of Shriketalon morals and is convinced we’re going to throw him out for daring to be a soldier and enjoying himself as one. SO he’s self sabotaging because it’s the only thing that makes sense to him.” Juliette says and Chloe shrinks back to look Jacob in the face again and he’s looking a little bashful.

“Wait, what age was he reduced to?”

“Seven! He doesn’t even have the basic grounding of Shriketalon Pacifism or anything else!”

“If it wasn’t so fucking obtuse I might have some understanding of it and wouldn’t need this lecture! Why the hell is it such a massive secret!?”

“It’s not! It’s just developmental! It’s cultural! It’s not a big lecture you give out one day! It’s a million little lessons and sayings as you grow up!” Juliette protests. “Someone help me! He doesn’t get it and I do not have what I need to teach him!”

“What is there to get!? You are a pacifistic people born of an ancient oath to prevent you from being wiped out in the early stages of first contact. It became a cultural institution that binds the identity of this entire demographic of the Valrin Species. That’s it’s origin. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is that no Shriketalon has offered anything but sympathy or pity when I explain that I am a soldier, that I have killed, will kill again in the line of duty and do not mind these facts. What am I missing?”

“I’m not even physically there and I have a headache. Juliette my daughter, how are you holding up?” Amanda asks.

“Badly, I wasn’t ready for this.”

“Oh I doubt there was any way to be ready for something like this.” Amanda’s husband Peter notes he’s furiously rubbing at his downy goatee and clearly trying to find an answer that just isn’t coming to him as a few feathers are dislodged.

“I wasn’t looking to make this happen either, I was trying to get ahead of potentially insulting the Shriketalon medical fleet that’s going to same war I’m heading to fight in.”

“Do you hear how much he doesn’t get it?! Just how do we break through this!?” Juliette asks.

“And you’re on Zalwore. We’re at least a week away even if we turn the fleet around right now and your both heading to the La’ahbaron conflict. Meaning you’re both locked into your commitments and can’t exactly cancel or skip back to Zalwore or somewhere closer so we can do this in person...” Mary-Ann mutters, already trying to find the fastest and most effective solution to things.

“About that...” Jacob says.

“Oh no, this madness.”

“It’s not madness, it makes perfect sense.”

“No it don’t!” Juliette snaps with her feathers starting to stick out in her frustration.

“It’s no it doesn’t dear sister cousin, try to...” Jacob teases Juliette who lets out a furious screech at him.

“Oh yes. That is Jacob.” Chloe notes it’s from her Eric.

“Really? I was under the impression I was just some drunken idiot.”

“Before the Schleppa you were a problem on a good day. And it made you far worse.” Eric continues as he walks up. As a Shriketalon Erik just blends in. He’s a little taller than average though. Not by much. But it’s there.

But the thing that stands out is the chin. A little jutting that’s not quite an underbite. Something he passed down to Jacob. One of the few real differences between Jacob’s own face and Juliette’s. But what was really passed was the bright yellow eyes. Nearly golden.

“Tell me you have at least let go of that poison.”

“I have. I’ve made a point of staying away from it. I can’t even tell you with certainty what it tastes like. Though I have vague memory of something sour on the tongue.”

“Good.”

“I’ve also been augmented. I have a much more robust digestive tract now. Even if I was slipped Schleppa I might not even notice it. My new filtration organs are just that powerful.”

“Even better.” Eric says walking past him and glaring at the wall. “... As your father your rearing was mostly up to me. Juliette. Is this really him? Are you completely certain this is Jacob?”

“Unless Captain Courlain Shriketalon has suddenly developed a random and downright psychotic manipulative streak, it’s him. She recognized his story as he explained himself to her and requested a DNA sample. It wasn’t until it confirmed that we are closely related that she introduced him to me.” Juliette says.

“... Okay then. Okay... I’ll put things as plainly as possible then. Jacob?”

“Yes?”

“There is no solution to this problem. There is no one answer, lecture, piece of media or speech I or any other Shriketalon can possible give that will somehow substitute ten years of development and growth to give you the context, relevance and understanding of the Shriketalon way of life. From the age when we first truly grasp language and begin to read, until the main boiling madness of puberty is finished, we teach our young to be gentle, and peaceful and kind. Then we teach them why as well as the answer you’re looking for. The When. When we can break the oath and put it aside. Every family does it differently. The words are different from one mother or father to the next. But the meaning is the same. So here is the meaning, summarized. I don’t expect this to stick. It takes ten years to hammer it in properly. But if we don’t take the first swing, it’s never going in.”

Jacob is standing at attention and giving him an intense look now. Eric nods.

“Shriketalons are built to kill. To not only kill, but kill gruesomely. Our wings are small and powerful, allowing agile, near dance-like flight through the sky and around obstacles. The tips or our talons are sharp and viciously hooked. The grip we have with our feet is designed to sever the tendons in a joint and destroy it’s usefulness. When used on an animal it’s a dirty, cruel, pointlessly painful kill. When used on a person it’s a war-crime. He can casually sever limbs. There is a reason only two of the major Valrin demographics have Talon in their name, and it was not for being gentle. And both demographics needed to remake themselves or face potential extinction. We Shriketalons were merely the more dramatic and visible of the two. Which makes sense as Nighttalons are the thieves and assassins to the psychotic death cult we Shriketalons once were. Which is again sensible as a Nighttalon’s feet are more about holding your prize helpless as you get to work, as opposed to ours which is generally already doing horrifying things to people the moment we grab them.”

“Okay.” Jacob says.

“Okay.” Eric echoes. “Now, the reason you’re so confused, the reason it’s so hard to explain to you what the problem is and why it’s not sticking, is because we have two big lessons that each take five years to learn. And we have to start young. A Valrin generally has good mobility and a good grasp of language at five years of age, so we start teaching them to NEVER use their talons in anger. That is a bad, wrong and unhappy thing to lash out violently. And because a child still has a developing mind, not only does it stick deep, but we cannot fit in more of the lesson until later. At ten, the second lesson begins.”

“And the lesson is?” Jacob asks.

“You are not a monster.” Eric says. “That is the second lesson. Because as important as it is to teach the child not to bleed someone out in a temper tantrum or sever someone’s knee when throwing a fit, it always goes too deep and we develop a deep sense of shame. The shame must then be removed. Because we are not a shameful people. We have chosen to be better and it is the choice that matters. Every time the choice matters. That is not a thing of shame. To feel temptation is not shameful, surrendering to it is.”

“But I have.” Jacob says.

“Really? Every time you get upset blood spills? Can we track who’s had an argument with you by the number of people that needed healing comas to recover the use of their limbs?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you’re fine Jacob. The actual Oath of the Shriketalons? The ancient pact that basically hangs over our entire demographic? It hasn’t been sworn in seriousness for thousands of years. No Shriketalon past the first fifteen or sixteen generations from our uplift as a species has sworn the oath. It wasn’t needed. We changed as a people. It was a good change.”

“Then what am I?”

“A lot of things, but what you’re asking about is well... you’re a man who was pushed too far. You’re not the first Shriketalon who has been broken. Not the first who has been so spectacularly failed by others you had to do what was once unthinkable to survive. Some call it being lost. But unless you show up in warpaint, a loincloth and wearing the skulls of your enemies, no one is going to call you a traitor. And if you don’t hurt anyone they’ll think it’s some kind of tasteless advertising campaign or publicity stunt.”

“But I like it.” Jacob notes and Eric looks Juliette up and down.

“And she’s not hurt. Is she going to be hurt by you?”

“No.” Jacob states clearly and without any room to debate it.

“Then why would you liking it mean anything? You’re not lashing out randomly, you’re not hurting people without cause. The difference between a soldier and a serial killer are vast. And to be frank, anyone that can’t tell the difference needs time in a rubber room so they don’t hurt themselves.” Eric continues and he starts walking around Jacob to get a good look at him. “But this lesson takes a while to stick for... well anyone coming in from the outside to learn it, and you basically are. Seven years old... you’d have been watching the Huggy Wings and Downy Days.”

“Would I?”

“How much do you remember?”

“Faces, random words and a sour taste that satisfies.”

“Our faces?”

“Yours, mom’s, some of theirs.” Jacob answers sweeping his wing out. “But it’s... it’s all faded. Blurry enough that trying to fill in the blanks could turn it into almost anyone’s face.”

“And the words?” Eric asks.

“Bawoga, Tarata, Rrarrorra are the most clear.”

“Oh... of course. They’re gone now.”

“What were they?”

“Your pet fish when you were six.”

“I had pets?”

“They stripped you bare.” Eric says in horror. “Even with the drink you were nowhere near this...”

“Yes?” Jacob asks.

“I wish this wasn’t a hologram. You need to be hugged.”

“I’m fine, I’m just looking for answers.” Jacob says.

“Your formative years are a blur, and after that you just have fighting a criminal organization in the shadows for two decades. That’s not fine.”

“And he didn’t even bring up the fact he apparently has a mental link to some sort of amalgam Axiom consciousness.” Juliette says and everyone looks taken aback.

“She’s not only honest but accurate. I am a Sorcerer too now, so yeah.”

“Wait, is that why you think you’re a monster?” Eric asks.

“No, the sorcerer bit is more recent.”

“Okay then.”

First Last Next

First

Many Faces of War

He turns to see his backup arrive and smirks.

“Ah, I see they’re taking this seriously at least.” Danial states as he beholds the massive crimsonhewer forms. The one at the lead in particular has the entire front of her her armour painted bright red with the occasional splotches of blues, greens and blacks around the gauntlets and armoured boots. She’s clearly done a lot to a lot of people.

“You Danial Hutch?” She asks.

“Master Corporal Danial Hutch, Axiom Adept in the employ of The Undaunted.”

“Oh yeah? You some kind of sensor? Transmuter?”

“I induce nuclear fission at will and can make force barriers capable of shaping or outright blocking the blasts.” Danial says and there is a series of interested noises from the Crimsonhewer and her squad.

“Really? That’s... that’s a lot of fun to be had.”

“Unfortunately I’m also on the tail end of an invigoration effect and it could die off at any moment. And things are so damn dangerous that I’m going into reserve at the closest because if I suddenly get exhausted out of nowhere, which could happen at any moment now, then that level of firepower is a liability.”

“The hell?”

“Before all this bullshit started I was experimenting with Axiom Enhancements with my team and just waiting to see when it wore out. It’s been six hours and a few others have already started to come down from their manic states. I’m still in mine, and it makes me powerful, but if it suddenly turns off...”

“Right. Okay. So what are you here to do?”

“I was watching the perimeter until my relief, then I’m going to be an extra set of eyes here just in case while this gigantic mess gets sorted. We have experts dealing with the potential mess in there freshly in system via the laneway and should be with us shortly.”

“... How are they moving that fast?”

“The Haffara Thar, which is what the disease we’re dealing with is called, nearly destroyed the Haffria. So now Haffria Synths travel the galaxy in extermination ships, and incorporated into the ships themselves, to hunt down and destroy Haffara Thar. A few of those ships are now in system and we’ve directed one to this area to...”

“Master Corporal.” His Communicator states.

“Speaking.”

“Stay on the line. The Haffara Thar Expert is using it to triangulate the position.”

“And you’ve cleared this with the locals? She’s not going to be shot on emergence?”

“We’ve got an army of politicians badgering The Actura Arcology on all sides. So long as you don’t start attacking civilians you should be in the clear.”

“Oh thank god.”

“We’re not that bad...” The mostly calmed down Kruga Officer notes. Numerous medics, other officers and even their equivalent of Special Weapons and Tactics was there with them. She still wasn’t happy. At all. But she was coping. Somewhat.

“Alright, well we have my communicator being used as a beacon to...” Danial starts to explain as something suddenly skitters into the area. Chrome, faceless centipede woman. Easily fifty segments long and staring at him with a terrifying intensity that is impressive coming from a blank featureless face. “Hello.”

“Hello.” The Haffria returns before turning to the detonated wall. There is a deeply uncomfortable feeling as a scanner who’s sweeping beam is outside of standard visual range covers the entire area. “Infestation confirmed.”

“Fuck.” Danial mutters as the Haffria scuttles into the breach. His communicator makes a bunch of grinding and chewing sounds.

“Human. There are many guards. They cannot detect through my stealth. I have located the containment area of the tainted being.”

“Very good, is there a problem?”

“I require the guards absence to safely extract the Haffara Thar.”

“Confirmed, and we can ease that with a bit more information. Do you see any turrets, traps or unusual weaponry?’

“Numerous turrets, the nearby computers have explosives within them. All troops have half their respiratory organs replaced with explosives.”

“The more in the way of information we have the smoother our distraction will go. What kind of numbers and munitions are we looking at?”

“Four Railshot Turrets, Three of Plasma and three Pulse Laser turrets. All Vish forces are armed with coilguns. There are twenty two active. One thousand, two hundred within stasis.”

“I see. Thank you. Distraction will be there shortly. I doubt I need to remind you to prioritize the containment of the Haffara Thar for later destruction, but I will state it regardless, your mission is to get that wretched thing away from anyone it can possibly infest.” Danial states.

“I understand completely and will await the distraction.” She tells him and he nods.

“Good. Let me organize the forces and we can finish this as quickly as possible.” Danial says and the line cuts off, he then reconnects to The Undaunted, “Please tell me you heard all that.”

“We did.”

“Okay, what level of authority do I have here? I need to know if and when I can give orders.”

“We’re working on it. We’ve got some actual authority. And he’s getting a proper kick out of this. Put your communicator in projection mode.”

“Copy that.” Danial says as he holds out his communicator and puts it into projection mode. Then fights back a laugh as the masked face of Slithern emerges next. Of course. Their Lablan Noble.

“Crimsonhewers. I know you’re all eager to do what you’re best at. What few if any can match any of your clans at.” Slithern begins. “And the only reason you haven’t already is the weapon we’re all at risk by and the politics. But I can clear away the politics and we just need a distraction now to do away with the weapon. They have Railshot plasma and pulse laser turrets, just over twenty two hostile women holding coilshot and thinking they’re invisible, but they’re not anymore are they?”

“No sir.” The leader of the Crimsonhewers states.

“Good, are your suits hardened for coil and rail munitions?”

“They are.”

“Then you have twenty two targets, we prefer them alive for interrogation and deprogramming. But if they have to be killed do so quickly and without cruelty, your opponents are not hardened criminals or insane murderesses. They are brainwashed slave soldiers who have know nothing but obedience and the lash. The Stasis held ones are not viable targets unless they’re unfrozen and turn hostile and watch your fire. If the Haffara Thar are unleashed this world could very well be lost.”

“That bad?” The leader of the Crimsonhewers asks.

“Worse apparently. I haven’t seen it directly, but I have a list here of fourty seven known garden worlds reduced to glass that are in need of recovery after Haffara Thar containment. Including the ones that have been healed afterwards there have been one hundred and seven worlds that have been burnt to try and contain these things.”

“Damn. ETA until the Blue Shields arrive? We need Red and Blue for a problem this big.”

“You don’t think you can do it?”

“I think that if this is something that’s resulted in the torching of a hundred worlds I’d rather have a blue girl behind me to make sure nothing escapes my blade.”

“I’m almost touched.” A new voice says as a squadron of massively well armed Cannidro women in bright blue armour come marching in. “The Blue Shields are here to hold the line. What is the perimeter of the compromised area.”

“I’m having my people upload things to you now Commander. I am being advised that you yourself are particularly well suited to aiding in the containment of Haffara Thar.”

“I wasn’t always a Blue Shield. I was a Crimsonhewer once and I was enlisted to help contain a tainted world. It was ugly. We spilled oceans of blood and the madness only grew, girls drowned in the misery only to rise as monsters themselves. The people. The animals. Even some plants were all twisted.”

“We couldn’t save anyone. Everyone was tainted. We had to reduce the world to a barren rock to stop them. Alongside with nearly all my clan in those days. My bloodlust died alongside them. I can no longer stand to simply kill. But neither can I stand aside as there is killing to be done. So now I bear the shield.”

“And the world itself?” The Crimsonhewer leader asks.

“Terraforming has healed it’s biosphere. The world is habitable again, but it’s bloody reputation has left it a wildlife preserve. None of the cities survived even as ruins. Not a single post remains standing, the hypercrete was reduced to powder and not one wall remains upright. Grass grows through where roads once were. That which stands tall are the abused and broken mountains and the newly grown trees. Vurothin... she is a maiden world again.” The Blue Shield Commander explains in a haunted and haunting tone.

“But enough of my melancholy! I have just received the perimeter information! Shields! As you were trained! We are holding the line around this safehouse. We are ensuring that...”

“The Vish are moving.” Danial interrupts.

“Pardon?”

“The opposing force is starting to make moves. They just peeked out the door. Things are about to change.” Danial warns them all.

“Into positions! We can’t let the monster loose!” The Blue Shield Commander barks out to her fellows and the uniform Cannidor Warriors move.

Then Danial’s arms snap up and a huge shield covers everyone present seemingly at the same moment a wave of fire and shrapnel wash over things.

“They seek to unleash the beast!” The Haffria states and Danial swears.

“Fuck subtle, they need to be stopped!” He declares as the shield ripples and he has it shift to creat a fan to sweep the smoke aside. Lasers, plasma, railshot and coilshot start bombarding the barrier and he lets out a low growl.

“Are the shields one or two way?”

“One way! Fire at will!”

“You heard him! Drop those turrets!” The Crimsonhewer commander orders.

“Take out their arms! Mind your backdrops and do not allow your lasers to burn the stasis bound behind them!” The Blue Shield Commander adds.

“I have secured the beast.” The Haffria explains.

There is a sudden scream from the other sides. They’re speaking fast in some kind of code and even as the air between both forces fill with lasers, plasma, kinetic rounds and more, a single container is suddenly seized with Axiom and hurled into the space between.

It’s vaporized, as is it’s contents that are suddenly in a space too tight to hold it all.

Danial swears as he inverts the shield entirely and covers teh massive mess of dangerous chemicals that are already expanding into deadly gasses.

Each of the forces surrounding him move heavy and hard as he tries to contain too many deadly things that are reacting to each other in too tight a space. It’s like holding in an explosion that doesn’t want to stop and he was never good enough with expanded spaces to add it while concentrating on a shield like that while also keeping enough of an eye on the fight to avoid getting shot by something that’ll make it through his brand.

Then his left knee is PAIN and he starts falling.

The limb is a stump.

The barrier containing chemical death does not waver as he hits the ground.

A scream rips it’s way out of his throat and the barrier does not waver. He holds out his left hand as he pulls in ALL the Axiom he can to spike his adrenaline to extend the few seconds he has into minutes. Minutes needed to assess the damage.

He’s taken the shot right above the left knee and it’s shattered teh bone, pulped the muscle and torn the flesh. His blood is shooting out of him like a garden hose on full blast.

He shifts and his movements are blindingly fast from the outside but a slow crawl to his pain, adrenaline and Axiom spiked consciousness.

His right hand clamps around the ruined remains of his left leg and he starts shaping the barrier.

The wound is clamped shut. The blood flow stopped. The pain is nothing. He has been branded, that is true pain, this is just a distraction.

No. Not a distraction. A tool. A gift.

The pain gives him focus as the barrier finishes it’s shaping and glowing replacement for his severed and shattered leg slams into the ground and he rises up.

With the focus of the pain he can compress the space in the bubble of toxic chemicals and it shrinks to the size of his fist before rushing to him. He catches it in his left hand and flicks a single finger at the attacking Vish still standing.

They each are thrown backwards before he hits the area with a massive pulse to disable their bombs. The rise up and he pulls back to tear them towards him through the air.

There is fear and screaming, but all six survivors of the attacking Vish are now bound and helpless in the air in front of him, glowing bands of Axiom tying up their hands and feet.

He doesn’t register the silence as he scans them. Flicks of his fingers has weapons drop from them all before he pulls out several beacons from his now ragged coat and hits all of them with one.

“Sweet saints, someone tell me that bloodsoaked beast has room in his marriage.”

He puts that aside.

“Someone get hazardous material handling or whatever you call it here. This sphere has enough poison to empty this arcology of life.”

“Your leg’s been shot out!” The Agurk Officer exclaims.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. Now if you’ll excuse me. I need to do my duty.”

“Oh honey it doesn’t matter if there’s room in his marriage. We’re getting in on it.”

He puts that aside too.

First Last

First

Many Faces of War

“Is anyone injured? Do we have medics on the way? Bomb squads? This Arcology is under attack and we need to move fast and strong if we’re going to keep the people safe.” Danial asks even as he helps the Kruga officer up. He still maintains his shield.

“That blast! That!”

“I’m an adept, specializing in nuclear level explosions, both causing and containing them. My shield can take an almost incomparable hit without worry.” Danial assures her.

“A nuclear adept?! Why is a nuclear adept chasing some kind of Cloaken!?”

“Vish actually, a species sequenced partially from the Cloaken but I didn’t have time to get into an explanation, and Cloaken is the easiest way of saying something invisible or fooling the senses.” Danial explains.

“Lying under oath is also a crime.” The rattled but unhurt Agurk officer protests meekly.

“Thankfully I have yet to say anything under oath. Now I need verbal confirmation, are either of you hurt?”

“J-Just my pride.” The Kruga officer say as she fully balances on her own feet again and gives herself a little shake before standing straight. “SO, terrorist weapon’s cache?”

“Terrorist something. Last one was a staging ground and storage bay for a thousand hostile soldiers in stasis and a hidden superweapon. One dangerous enough that if not disposed of properly runs the potential of compromising the entire world of Zalwore.”

“What could possibly do that?”

“An extremely deadly animal infected with a virulent disease. Thankfully it’s transfer vector is contact and we didn’t get anywhere near it. But an outburst of this disease brought the Haffria species to it’s knees and to this day they still haven’t fully recovered. It’s to the point that synths based on them have to repeatedly remind the galactic council that they’re not extinct.” Danial says, relaying the information being whispered to him by a Private Stream on the line.

“A plague?”

“Worse. A civilizational level plague. We have containment specialists on the way, they’re going to dispose of what we have and scan for others, but if those bombs potentially breached the seal on one...” Danial begins to explain.

“Chief? We need bio-hazard containment down here. Potential weapon of mass destruction.” The Kruga says into her radio in a shaking tone.

“Hey are you alright?”

“No. No I’m not. You being a random asshole racing into the arcology is exciting, this? This is...” She staggers a little and Danial catches her. He then takes her radio.

“Hello, local law enforcement?”

“Who is this? What happened to Officer Karath?”

“Officer Karath is psychologically overwhelmed at the moment. I am here to confirm that the threat she was reporting is very real and very, very prominent. I request medical personnel to the area, bomb squad, special weapons and tactics and all reinforcements you have available. I am offering my complete cooperation with these affairs to ensure that the threat of the located terrorist safehouse is completely dispersed.”

“We can handle our own affairs alien! The very idea that-”

“Ma’am the threat level is on the scale that my people will be warning EVERY arcology and Polity on the planet if things even look like they’re going wrong here. The threat is THAT serious.” Danial states.

“... Potential Planetary Quarantine?”

“Some worlds with this infestation have been reduced to glass to try and contain it. Up to and including the cradle world of the species that first discovered it. The Haffria.”

“I have not heard of the Haffria.”

“Feel free to look them up.” He replies. “But we need to do something about this immediately if not sooner.”

“We? You are a trespasser and invader on Sovereign Actura Territory!” The police woman on the other end.

“Ma’am, please. This is a very dangerous, delicate situation and the more time spent getting stuck on semantics is just going to continually make things more and more dangerous for everyone.”

“Is that a threat!?”

“It’s a fact of a delicate and extremely dangerous situation. Of any delicate and extremely situation regardless of political context or location.” He says.

“Don’t presume to lecture me!” The dispatch on the other end says and he turns off the Radio and tucks it back onto Officer Karath’s strap. He then pulls out his communicator.

“Alright Dispatch, I know you caught all that. I need options. The locals are non-cooperative and we potentially have a planetary, if not galaxy scale threat. What kind of backup am I getting?” Danial asks.

“We’ve already gotten things moving. But we’re concerned about you. You’ve been running wired and hot for six hours now and the others in the experiment are starting to show signs of coming down from their manic states. Your timeline is potentially measured in minutes and we need to get things moving.”

“The others are already starting to wear down? Damn.”

“Ten of you participated in the experiment and four have already reported lethargy creeping in.”

“I’ve been actively using more Axiom and been engaged though, does that make me an outlier?”

“Potentially, but with the stakes this high we’re unwilling to risk things.”

“Understood.” Danial says with a bit of a sigh.

“I know, you’re eager for more. You’re in the flow and you’re ready to fight the whole galaxy to save it from itself. That’s probably one of the worst mindsets to have right now. We need to be very, very careful. This is EOD Squad time on a scale we’re not used to.”

“Right, okay right. I’m not that crazy. But I understand the concern. I will guard the area until I am relieved, but not venture any further unless there is a clear and immediate threat.”

“Good man.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Secure Medical Section, Undaunted Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

She’s a flopping thing now. After she had processed her situation she had just given up. She’s not resisting. No longer talking just... done.

“I don’t care anymore.”

And that was the worst thing a doctor can hear.

“So that’s it then?” Doctor Optimally asks. “All tough and strong when yer upright and fighting against some civilian girls. But the moment the price comes a calling ye give up?”

“Sounds about right.” She says. “Just let me die.”

“Oh really? And what do we put on the headstone? Her lies Jane Doe, did nothing, earned nothing, amounted to nothing?”

“Sure.”

“You put up with having your arms and legs hacked off, your spine flayed open and laid bare for augmentations just to be stronger in a fight and now you just give up?” One of the Assistants asks. “You put in all that work and effort to stand taller than all the other Vish, and you just accept this?”

“I don’t have a choice. My arms and legs are gone. I’m useless.”

“No, you are not. We can heal you. We can make you stronger than before. Strong enough to switch out your limbs like putting on an outfit and not that disgusting chop job you ended up in. But we can’t do that if you don’t want to live. This doesn’t have to be the end.” The other Assistant says as he comes closer to her level, before he’s whispering to her.

Something flickers in her, and he takes that as his signal to keep whispering.

“You’re not done, there’s more. So much more, and it can all be yours. All the glory, all the power, every sweet fruit of life itself can be yours, but you have to want it.” He whispers to her and her heart is starting to beat a little stronger and her breathing is deeper. “You can have more than any other Vish you have ever met. It’s all yours to have, glory, duty, loyalty... Love.”

Her eyes flicker to him.

“Did you think you were infertile? You are a woman, you may have children. You can be more than you ever even imagined. It’s been done. You can have more life, create life, end life. But you must first Live.” He whispers to her and she slowly, faintly nods.

“So we’re doing this then lass? Do ye wanna live?” Doctor Optimally asks and she looks to him. And offers a small nod. “Then let’s get started. The sooner we’re done fixin’ what was done to yer spine the sooner we can get you on yer new hands and feet.”

“... can I really have a child?” She asks and Doctor Optimally holds out his left hand and a mall projector pokes out of his palm. The image of a tiny Pink Vishanyan in Swaddling cloth, mid yawn with a tiny egg-tooth on her nose and in the arms of her massive, dark scaled mother.

“Should you have a daughter, she will emerge like that, with a tiny egg tooth upon her nose. Should you lay an egg, your scales will darken, your form will bulge with power and your instincts will shift. You won’t hide anymore, you will protect. You will make a perfectly safe nest for your child and keep it safe from everything.” Doctor Optimally slowly enunciates as the patient stares at the image unblinking.

Tears well up in her eyes, her presence in the Axiom grows as a sheer sensation of WANT pours out. So many little promises she made herself, every little compromise and lie and bit of restraint is tested against a flat truth. A truth staring at her in a projection above the doctor’s palm.

“I want it.” She states. “I want that.”

“More than anything else I want that. I want it, I want it, I. Want. It.”

“Then let’s get ye standin’ girl. So ye can go get it.” Doctor Optimally states.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Open Tundra, Just Outside Actura Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

“I hate Actura.” Is the first phrase that breaks the silence. A Crimsonhewer mercenary is the one who noted as such.

“You’ve been before?” The Pilot asks.

“Yeah. Cleaning up a small slaver base that was playing with borders to dodge patrols. They went into Actura and the fucking idiots not only did worse than the other ‘legal authorities’ but outright arrested us and detained us for so long the contract went unfulfilled and the bitches got away.”

“Sweet War Father, that is stupid.” The Urthani Pilot notes as all six of her antenna twitch ever so.

“Wait, you’re calling him Sweet War Father? The... The supersized, superpowered Urthani?”

“He’s a Primal, he touched every Urthani ever, even the long dead, and he’s a warrior! He conquered a whole planet with primitive tools so hard he became a god!” The Pilot protests.

“I’m not debating that a man that did all that nonsense isn’t worthy of praise. Just the name... Sweet War Father?”

“It’s an expression!” The Pilot protests.

“Okay enough tormenting our pilot. Remember, we’re a neutral faction that is allied to Lablan AND to Actura, meaning we’re allowed to work as security for a delicate as fuck situation with even more delicate rules.”

“How the hell has that mess of dumb uptight monkeys avoided war as long as they have?”

“Because they’re generally out of the way and usually just tell people to go away.” The Squad leader says. “Okay girls, we’re going in to look scary and be ready to kick ass if a bunch of invisible crazy snake women show up. We’ve all got updated optics for this courtesy of The Undaunted and need to watch our IFF’s because some of these weird snake girls are freeborn and on our side. Allied blood on the armour doesn’t count for shit in this clan.”

“What’s so damn dangerous that we need to just stand guard? That’s more a Bluey’s job.”

“The Blues are on their way, we’re just closer and everyone’s getting hired to help because there is a potential, impossible to control so don’t even think about it, superweapon in the area and it needs to have it’s presence or absence confirmed and then dealt with if it is here.”

“What kind?”

“Souped up super monster with a plague that ignores basically all biochemical barriers and can and HAS destroyed entire civilizations.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“How much are we getting paid?”

“Three times our regular fees and we get to keep the upgrades they give us up to and including a blueprint to make more. Meaning we’ve got some pretty heavy anti-stealth tech now.”

“Nice. Cloaken are always a bitch to deal with.”

“We also get to look damn good, so we’re getting paid three ways. This is a perfect advertisement of our strength, lots of actual coin and new toys. Win, win, win.”

“Provided there isn’t actually a giant super monster that wakes up that you now have to fight.” The Pilot says.

“Don’t freaking curse us girl. You know the Ancestors are just waiting for an opening like that to give us a proper test.”

“And drawing attention to it doesn’t?” The Urthani teases.

“I liked you moths more when you were scared.”

“Well too bad, I see everything now, and I can see how easy it would be for even my half-strength claws to peel you open like fresh fruit.”

“Hey boss, I think I’m starting to warm up to the pilot.”

“Yeah, she does have tits on her. That’s for sure.”

First Last Next

First

Many Faces of War

“Forward! Reports claim this as one of the final holdouts!” Slithern declares. He’s gotten into the proper groove now. His place was as a living figurehead and tactician, he wasn’t expected to get stuck in as much as he wanted to. But he would change his tactics to suit his forces and his enemies.

“Meaning we likely are barely half done.” The nearest Songblade notes between verses.

“A full half? I thought we were getting to a quarter.” He notes in the same volume as the Songblade who laughs at that admission.

“Think we’re in for a long on?”

“I think that a force of stealth experts has a lot of chances to sneak in supplies and people. And I’ve got Undaunted updates being whispered into my ear. An entire stasis regiment was found under this arcology. Smart money is the idea that there’s more. One of the commander Vish is being chased even now as she heads somewhere, but is moving with enough intent to clearly have a destination in mind. Meaning there’s another safehouse for them. And if ONE of of them had a whole regiment, then we’ve got-” He cuts himself off as he sees her expression. “One of the stasis regiment was stasis aware and surrendered. She knew little, but apparently knew that a regiment of Stasis Vish are a thousand in number.”

“We have not fought anywhere near a thousand.”

“The regiment was still in stasis. Only one of them was released and that was because she was showing signs of stasis sickness, revealed to be awareness. She’s surrendered, but broken. She doesn’t know much and what she does know are things we can confirm with our own eyes mostly.”

“Meaning our enemies are running on a dearth of information.”

“They’re slave soldiers. I thought that was a given.” Slithern notes.

“Are you sure you’re seventeen?”

“Seventeen and a couple of weeks.”

“Yes, because those weeks make all the difference.”

“Same difference as all the centuries that some people have over me some days.” Slithern says and she outright laughs before leaping into the fray. They had mastered a new modulation to their song already. Disrupting the bombs and the stealth at the same time.

It was almost like being back on The Chainbreaker, hard problems solved fast and easily.

It feels like home.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Secured and Monitored Residents Room 72-A, Undaunted Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

Her hand suddenly clenches around his uniform.

“What’s wrong?” Leonard asks.

“She!” She scrunches her eyes closed. “NO! Stop! I’m not...”

The compulsion in her head is massive, repeated and continual. “STOP!”

“What’s wrong?!” Leonard asks in concern. So sweet, so cute and so friendly and she needs that now to stay calm even as she can feel the commanders stoking her need for battle.

But it’s broken, jagged, jambled and just plain jammed. But the signal is still partially coming through. She buries her face in his hair as she holds him so tightly he is squeezed between her breasts as she warps her every thing around him as if holding this warm, soft and loving thing hard enough will shut out the thing in her mind that screams between broken and bloody teeth.

Tiny warm hands reach up and gently hold the sides of her head. Moving in little circles to massage her tensing muscles. The Axiom moves ever so and a sensation of the warmth and calm and care just spreading through her ashes over everything. The call in her mind goes from a scrabbling screech to something so distance it can be ignored.

She relaxes. Starts breathing more normally.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Not what happened, not what’s wrong, are you okay. Concern. For her. Despite...

“They didn’t tell me one of THEM was here. They never told me they were real.” She mutters.

“What?”

“A Grand Commander. Vish who are Axiom Trained to control. Huge distances, better combat and organization. I thought... I thought my regiment was just that. A regiment. Not under a Grand Commander. I never met one, only was taught what to do if one was there but... no... I won’t I don’t want to.”

“How is she talking to you?” He asks gently.

“Why?”

“She’s hurting you. How do I stop her?” Leonard asks and she nearly weeps. The thing she was taught was for her to obey and follow is lashing out at her and the supposed enemy is on her side.

“You can’t it’s Axiom based. The bones of my head were modified, they act as a receiver. She’s in my skull.”

“Oh, Axiom? That’s workable. I can make her more quiet at least.” Leonard promises before letting go with his left hand and there’s a slight swell of Axiom as he activates something. But it doesn’t hurt her so she really doesn’t care right now.

“Hey! Can you send me a roll of trytite foil sometime yesterday? Please and thank you!” He asks and then his hand returns to holding her. “It’s going to be okay, alright?”

“Trytite foil?”

“Yeah, we got lots of it just in case. It’s one of the sillier things we do. There are a sort of Axiom effect that The Undaunted high command are really scared of they call Cognito Hazards. Any talking to or taking over another person’s brain counts as one. So there are all sorts of ways to fight them and one of the most common ones is covering it or the victim with trytite foil to block it. And not only can I block it, but I know how to shape it into a neat hat too!”

“Why are they so scared of them?”

“Because to be Undaunted is to be strong. So if someone takes control of a strong person then terrible things can happen. And they don’t want that. So they’re really careful around things that can hurt brains.”

“Then the Blessed would scare them a lot. Whatever was done to them...”

“Haffara Thar.” Leonard says.

“What?”

“They were given Haffara Thar, a type of parasite that makes you immortal, but crazy. There’s a whole religion or something that hunts down and destroys them whenever they’re found too, it’s really bad stuff. I think they drove the species who found it nearly extinct!” Leonard says.

“What?”

“Oh yeah, Haffara Thar are bad, and someone being immortal but crazy is the sign of one.”

“Oh no...”

“Yeah, and they spread fast. They can get into almost anything too. The Haffria homeworld and primary colonies had to be glassed to stop them, and they still got out anyways. Every now and then a world is found with the monsters on them, the people insane. The animals monsters, and no one and nothing gets to die, only suffer.” Leonard says before the door is knocked on. “It’s your room, do you want them in here?”

“Uh...”

“If you don’t i have to go and answer it.” He says.

After a moment her death grip on him releases and he gives her a little squeeze before hopping off the bed and more skipping to the door and walking.

“Oh! Hello Private Stream!” He greets the person in the same outfit plus the concealing hat and gloves.

“Hi Private Stream! I got the foil!” Private Stream answers, there is a difference in the voice, but they’re both clearly chirpy, friendly and happy to be there.

“Thanks Private Stream, it’s good to see you!”

“Good to see you Private Stream! Have a good day!”

“You too Private Stream!”

“Bye!”

“Bye!”

And then he closes the door before walking up with the roll of sky blue foil.

“Doesn’t that get confusing?” She asks.

“Not at all. It’s funny.” Leonard says as he pulls out a length of the trytite foil. “Now, let’s get to making you a foil hat so that nasty signal stops bothering you.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Open Tundra, Increasing distance from The Lablan Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

“Right, got it. Damn. I didn’t even detect that. Want me to pin her to stop it or see where exactly she thinks she’s going to get help?” Danial asks in English. Learning that the woman was borderline torturing the poor Stasis Aware girl had taken all the fun out of the chase. Now he wanted it to end as much as she did. But not for the same reasons.

“Keep giving chase. We’ve already dug up one weapon that might end this world. If there’s another we need to know about yesterday.”

“I’ll get it to you last week.” He says and then the line goes dead. He growls as he races forward. He then lets out a roar of rage and ill intent.

The Vish runs even faster and what wavering she had been doing smooths out. He starts racing harder, shielding himself to crash through her little air blade constructs and scaring her even further, taking away her ability to properly rationalize things as he comes closer and closer.

She teleports and he follows the trail through. As he emerges out the other side he can hear her panting and trying to whimper as she races hard. They’re at the foot of a blocky arcology. The massive, ugly building is huge hypercrete tower that goes up several hundred stories and looks more like it was placed on Zalwore to spite the world itself.

“You’re at the foot of Actura Arcology! A major Ugurk and Kruga Polity that are noted for stubborn pride and taking easy offence at things.”

“So long as that pride doesn’t let a potential superweapon go off then I don’t care.”

“You’re going to have to! They don’t have the means to detect Vishanyan or Vish stealth. They only see you running right at them at a dead sprint!”

“Fuck”

And true enough, he can hear alarms going off because the heavily armed soldier racing all out on foot from another arcology is NOT something that gets ignored.

Sirens blare and teleport beacons in the ceiling activate. Enormous Ape Women in uniforms of dark red bare down at him.

“In pursuit of a Cloaken Terrorist!” He roars as he dodges. It’s a lie yes, but he doesn’t have time to explain what a Vish or Vishanyan is.

“You are trespassing in... Hey! Get back here!” The officer bellows and starts after him in a knuckle run. The Vish is running faster and he puts on more speed.

He has to duck under an Agurk trying to dive onto him and he uses it to accelerate further. He puts in EFFORT and pushes his body hard. His legs and lungs start burning as his arms go still to his sides, ready to spring forward and grab his target as he goes further horizontal. If he were more prone to exaggeration he’d say he wasn’t moving forward anymore, but spinning the world under him.

The gap closes and his everything is tensed and his face furious. There is no mistaking the sheer PANIC rolling off the Vish as she tries to teleport again and his arm snaps out like striking serpent. He grabs her and joins her in the teleport. They hit the ground elsewhere and roll.

She lets out a gurgling rasping scream of fear as she tries to squirm away from him and reach for the next door. He can feel it. Trytite blocking the Axiom. This is the next safehouse.

The Axiom keeps twisting and the Kruga and Agurk Officers descend upon their position as he loudly, and clearly wrestles with the invisible opponent. Then he hits her with a stun effect and then a full knockout effect. Finally he finishes up with a teleport beacon and she’s gone. He then rises fully and takes a few moments to catch his breath.

“So. I’ll suppose you’ll be wanting an-”

“YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!” The massive officer says with her enormous finger poking him on the forehead.

“-explanation then.” He finishes.

“Mister... whoever the fuck you are. You are under arrest for trespassing on Actura Sovereign Territory, possession of illegal weaponry and armaments, assault, assault of an officer, resisting arrest, vigilantism, teleportation without a license, kidnapping and public indecency!” An Agurk Officer says stepping up next to the larger one.

“... Public Indecency?” He asks in a baffled tone.

“Cover your face man! Do you have no shame!?” The Kruga officer bellows.

“Oh this is one of those FUN societies. Got it.” He notes turning up his collar and buttoning it together to mostly cover his face. “Is that better.”

“Still indecent, but better. Now, what the actual hell is going on!?” The Agurk officer demands and he holds up a finger before pulling out a white handkerchief before tying it across his face just under his eyes and then pulling out and putting on his military flatcap before turning back. “Much better. Now what is going on?”

“No, who are you first. That is the priority.” The Kruga officer states.

“I am Master Corporal Danial Hutch, Undaunted Axiom Research and Development, Media Branch. Technically I’m on break at the moment, but my break turned into a battle as a terrorist attack struck Lablan Arcology and I began assisting the forces of the Crystal Empire in their repelling of the attack. We discovered an enemy safehouse and storage area beneath and numerous forces, weapons and even a superweapon inside. One of the terrorist officers made a run for it and I gave pursuit but did not immediately catch them in hope of being led to another safehouse. It appears to have been successful as the chamber beyond the door behind me has all the same signs as the safehouse we discovered previously.”

“Are you telling me that you believe that THAT door behind you leads to a weapon cache!?” The Agurk officer demands.

“I’m saying that a dangerous terrorist who was part of the forces that are still attacking the Lablan Arcology as we speak came HERE when she panicked. Now what about HERE makes a terrorist feel comfortable? Is there weapons? Maybe. Could be also be reinforcements, a gateway that leads into territory friendly for her, a massive weapon she could set off and force everyone else to deal with. I don’t know, but I do know that THIS is where the terrorist led me.”

“Captain?” She asks the Kruga Officer who gives Danial a piercing look then shoulders past him and opens the door.

“DOWN!” Danial roars as he feels the final mechanisms let go with the trytite out of the way. He throws up a barrier as he pulls the Kruga back.

The wall detonates out at them. But he’s covered everyone here in a bubble instead of just a wall. He learned from his encounter with the first suicide bomber.

First Last Next

First

Many Faces of War

The Drone he commands grabs the attacking Vish by the overlarge neck and forces a teleport on her. She vanishes as The Songblades quickly disrupt and break the weapons of the Vish just in case the weapons like the Vish themselves have explosive ordinance in them.

“Captain Tallas, this floor is clear but there is more to be done. The troops look to still be plenty strong by my view, but I need to know if I am seeing properly.”

“You are Lord Schmidt. We are prepared to continue.” Captain Tallas tells him and he nods.

“Good. Let’s go. We...” Slithern starts to say before there’s an alert. “Civilians are requesting aid through a drone! With me!”

He turns the drone around and brings the swarm to bear. The Songblades give rapid pursuit as they race through this floor of the arcology and the song rushing ahead of them as the well trained women easily keep singing as they run begins to disrupt the attack.

The disruption wave reveals something unexpected. A machine that suddenly shifts to powerful shields and being mostly transparent and disrupting sensors despite the disrupting effect of the Songblades.

Unable to get a proper target lock Slithern shifts to defence immediately and interposes his swarm between the threat and the civilians.

“It’s interfering with weapon’s lock!” Slithern announces.

“To blades sisters! To blades and victory!” The Songblades sing as Slithern accelerates his drone and shunts energy away from his weapons and into shields to tank a plasma blast that was large enough to penetrate his swarm and strike civilians.

“Get to shelter! Even if it can’t protect you, if it can block easy targeting it will save your life!” Slithern orders the civilians.

Captain Tallas leads the Songblades. Their curved swords glimmering in the light as they sweep towards the mechanized threat. It fires several heavy plasma blasts at them, but the Songblades are nimble and alert. They weave around the attack as if the entire battle was choreographed.

Their blades find resistance in the armour, but not much, they break weapons and begin carving open the pieces and crippling the legs. Then, sensing the danger, Slithern slams multiple disruption pulses into it in order to prevent things from detonating. The machine staggers and the Songblades start outright dissecting the combat walker. Then the screaming from within it starts. They break open a seal and...

“Cybernetically augmented Vish. That’s not a combat walker, that’s a cyborg.” Slithern registers.

“Uh oh, passing word on.” The Private Stream that had shown up about a minute into his drone piloting notes. The little guy had unfolded a chair and offered snacks. Slithern had mostly ignored him as he was just passively watching the feed and otherwise saying and doing nothing.

“Thank you.” Slithern says to him and not through the drone.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Western Medical Section, Undaunted Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

“Hello miss!” A tiny voice greets her. She had ended her session with the psychiatrist as she was no longer willing to talk to them. It had been... it had been a lot and she needed to think.

“Umm... hello? Are you Private Stream?”

“Yes indeed I am!” Private Stream says cheerfuly. He’s a tiny bipedal male in a dark blue uniform that’s clearly a size or two too big for him. His cap and upright collar cover almost all his features and his gloves hide his hands. Allowing him to look both endearingly cute and also... strangely blank. She can’t make out many, if any, details on who this is.

It strikes her that as a disguise this would be perfect for any smaller species, or even a member of a larger species that’s shrunken down or willingly regressed to childhood through a healing coma.

Inoffensively endearing but otherwise unremarkable is a powerful trait. She realizes.

“... Oh... oh you’re... you’re dangerous aren’t you?” She realizes.

“Oh! Wow! Most people aren’t that smart! The Private Streams are social stealth bodyguards primarily though. I’m mostly about keeping people safe and not having people try to get in my way because I look so harmless.”

“I see.”

“Yeah! But I was sent to you for a special reason, your doctor explained it to me.” Private Stream says before sweeping off his hat and folding down his collar. His features jump into view with big soulful eyes with strands of bright green hair with brown tips waving in front of them, large furry ears atop his head also green with brown tips and he reaches back to pull a tail out of a hidden hole in his pants it follows the colour pattern. His tail starts wagging quickly. “Apparently your doctor brought up that there are some things in common with the Vish and Muttras so he thought it best for you to meet a Muttras! I’m Leonard Rags! Nice to meet you!”

“Oh... well I can’t imagine what kind of fighter you would be. You look... harmless.”

“We’re supposed to be. The Muttras were sequenced to be more like pets than people. Living toys for the rich and shameless.” Leonard says. “Not something you’d expect to be a bodyguard eh?”

“Well maybe. Do you have some kind of deadly stinger or hidden blade in your body?’

“No. I have soft reactive ears, a waggy tail and big eyes that make everything I feel easy to see. And I’m also genetically predisposed to cuddling, happiness and lots and lots of sex.”

“One of those seems out of place.”

“Rich and shameless was the target demographic. Pervert is often a big part of it.” Leonard says. “Still, I’m here to help you around the Arcology and get you used to being here. The Vishanyan Admiralty have pulled strings so any newly freed, non-hostile and disarmed Vish opponent is to be considered a Vishanyan citizen in need of protection and psychological counselling. And as they are a client state of the Apuk Star Empire which is an allied state to The Undaunted, you are not only welcome here, but are being given an apartment to stay in for now.” Leonard says. His tone is just so naturally cheerful and bouncy that she finds herself smiling anyways. The ‘natural’ movements of a Muttras are plucking at instincts and wants that are ‘natural’ to her own kind.

That realization gives her pause as she realizes just how much of a kinship she actually has with the small mammal. He smiles even wider and his already wagging tail becomes a blur as he notices the realization on her. He takes off his gloves to tuck away in his pocket and offers a small pale hand. “Come on, you have a whole new life ahead of you. And The Endless Streams are here to help.”

“The Endless Streams?”

“That’s right! One of the funner ideas from The Undaunted command. Make it so there are so many Private Streams that no one can even count how many there are!” Leonard says happily as she takes his hand. “Now come on! You have a nice soft bed, with a comfortable carpet, you get to choose how warm it is. Privacy, clothes, food, safety, there’s even a console in the room if you want to play games or read and there’s a nearby gym and a pool and you’re allowed out on one of the gardens...”

Leonard keeps listing all the things she’s being given and allowed to make use of as her head starts spinning more and more. The hallways seem to twist and turn and things feel more and more surreal and just plain dreamlike. They reach a room labelled 72-A and the door opens.

“okay! Here’s your new bed, sized for a taller species, but that just means more room to loaf around and relax. Right here is your communicator and a back up ID chit in case you lose the communicator. It’s basically your key and ID around here. This door over here is the bathroom with...”

She lets the voice just wash over her as Leonard putters around the room as a bobbing pair of green and brown fuzzy ears just barely in her line of sight as she turns around to regard where she is. Her gaze goes to a door and it’s opened by the ears to reveal clothing. Plain, but still softer, more luxurious and clearly better quality than anything she’s ever had before.

Her legs start to fail her as her knees shake and she staggers to the bed in time to not crash onto the floor as everything washes over her, into her and through her. It’s so much, it’s too much. It... it’s...

“Hey! Hey it’s okay! You’re going to be okay!” Leonard insists as he’s right next to her and patting her on the back.

Her arms wrap around him and her neck brings her down to both hold him close with a hug and cuddle up with her neck and head as she sobs with a thousand emotions, ideas and feelings she can’t readily name just pouring out with neither rhyme nor reason.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Vish Safehouse, Lablan Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

A tiny little nothing roughly the size of a human thumbnail slips through a tiny crack before the container is completely closed again. It’s so small and light that the vaguely triangular drone with rounded edges sustains no damage when it hits the ground. It just falls that slowly.

Incredibly tiny traceries of Axiom has it slide slowly and lightly over the floor making no sound whatsoever and with even less traces of Axiom.

It slips over the ground and towards the enormous, hulking figure that is fast asleep and breathing lightly despite it’s enormous size. It then slowly, ever so slowly, starts playing with the Axiom around it to modify things ever so slightly, setting up a strange pattern. One that is disrupted and things in the Axiom are flowing normally and neutrally all of a sudden.

Except there is now a camera on top of the tiny drone. It tilts back and begins to slowly, carefully and very, very subtly scan the creature as it actually senses something and shifts ever so slightly in it’s sleep.

They confirm it to be a roughly twenty year old Mar’Yatha making it one of the older, but far from oldest examples of it’s species. It’s fully grown, but also heavily modified. It’s been fed numerous steroidal compounds and the scanning detects the presence of Haffara Thar infestation. There is a specialized collar on the creature that appears to be keeping it asleep and satiated for long term transportation, but without having any design specifications or information on exactly what it is, the very presence of the creature is an enormous threat. An alert it sent out as the Axiom around the camera shifts ever so. Then the camera vanishes. Followed by the tiny drone suddenly immolating and burning away to a tiny stain of ash and soot on the floor. Still no bigger than the thumbnail of a human man.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Admiral Cistern’s Office, Undaunted Chambers, Council Building, Centris)•-•-•

His eyebrows go up as he reads the priority one report from Zalwore. He doesn’t swear, it’s not going to help. But he does adjust how he’s sitting as he sends a signal for coffee and snacks, and it also sends an alert to his doctors that he’s about to kick into overtime. He then starts making numerous inquiries on the availability of certain pieces of research and requests an audience with another polity that previously he had some stern words with but had otherwise managed to end things in fairly neutral terms.

The Coffee and tea-cakes arrives courtesy of Herbert himself. He also brings a data-slate with an extra copy of the information on their latest attempts to better study so as to kill Haffara Thar without harming the hosts so he can share it physically without issue.

The door to the Undaunted Chambers receives an alert from his security that a guest has arrived and Herbert scampers up in his full Private Stream persona to open the door.

A synthetic centipede woman emerges and scuttles in. Her face is a blank mask without even indicators for eyes. Her form is utilitarian, sexless and very inhuman for lack of a better word.

“You stated there was an emergency in relation to the infestation.” She states and he slides over the data-slate and then activates the projector on his desk. It displays the readout of the Mar’Yatha including the confirmation of Haffara Thar presence. “Location of Infestation?”

“Zalwore, a hidden compound incorporated into the Lablan Arcology. Specifically in an expanded space storage container. My troops have it secure, but we are still developing methods to safely extract and destroy the parasite without harming the host.”

“Zalwore Native Fauna are a perfect infection point, Zalwore location is a perfect infection point to spread Haffara Thar like a pandemic across the stars. Immediate Action shall be taken.”

“Of course. But first we need to communicate properly to minimize potential errors. Neither of us have any desire to see the infestation spread. So let’s work together calmly and efficiently to achieve our goals of destroying the threat. Understood?”

“Yes.” She confirms and he gets the distinct impression that an eyeless person is trying to stare him down for some reason. He takes a sip of his coffee, he really doesn’t care. The important decision is made, time to work.

First Last

First

Many Faces of War

“Thank you for your patience. For all that The Undaunted have a harsh and unrelenting training and self improvement ethos, they’re very strict on the fact that everyone is required to take their breaks and only emergencies are exceptions.” Admiral Crosswind states.

“One that you follow?”

“One that even our grand admiral and ultimate founder has found himself on the wrong side of with his doctors having dragged the workaholic directly out of his own office and forced him into the arms of his betrothed for a break. Apparently they’ve been having an easier time of it since his sons have arrived as he’s completely unwilling to fight back against them. They’re earning part time wages helping to handle their father.” Admiral Crosswind says. “Now then, let’s get to business. I’ve already wasted enough of your time and you’re unlikely to be the type to put up with frippery and foolishness.”

“Well spotted. Now to make sure that your time on break didn’t make you forget, I am Captain Zasz of The Deprivation’s Doom. We are a collection of sixteen allied hives that have dedicated their efforts into ensuring that famine and hunger are both broken the galaxy over. We are a volunteer and charity group. Now, we need your fleet formations and schedules. Zip Zip, now.”

“First, we need to test your cybersecurity so information that could get thousands, potentially millions of people killed isn’t snatched out of your servers in seconds flat.”

“Woman. Take another look at me and say with a straight face that my security might be lacking.” The Charbis orders. She certainly looks large in the projection, but Crosswind is familiar enough with the species to know that she’s maybe up to her upper thigh, not including antenna.

No Charbis has ever been accused of being anything other than fierce, and the small number of knives and needles ready to be used by Captain Zasz are certainly the sort of weapons that could kill, and kill gruesomely in close quarters. But Crosswind has been in actual combat. Actually had to siege open fortified positions and take down hard targets.

Most Charbis never actually get into a fight despite their ferocity. It’s generally not worth it to get into a fight with them and so most people simply don’t. A hardened mercenary leader turned military commander is not under the definition of most people.

She’s not intimidated by scowls, knives or needles. Or those that wear them and think that it means things will go their way entirely.

“Your cybersecurity might be lacking.” Admiral Crosswind states and Zasz looks uncertain for a moment. “Ma’am, I can assure you that it doesn’t matter how personally dangerous you are, how scary you look, how gruesome your threats or how willing you are to back those threats up. Cyber attacks bypass all of that. Believe me, as a woman who lost her first ship to a cyber attack and barely got out in a lifepod, cyber security is no joke.”

“I know that, but the real question, and I probably should have been clearer, is who is going to attack a third party that’s only bringing more resources to the field for non-combatants?”

“Neural-Clamping lunatics that are using a bio-engineered species to not only wage a hidden war of slaughter with no known victory objectives and are prone to attacking civilian and cultural targets. Libraries are burning, hospitals lie in ruin, athletic arenas are reduced to rubble. These are not military targets. Whether you’re a military force or not, you’re liable to be targeted by these lunatics.”

“Fine, proceed with your tests. But understand that if anything beyond a test is taken, then there will be consequences.”

“Of course. I’ll get our teams on it right away. They’ll be in contact with you shortly, and once your systems are secure to everyone’s satisfaction, then we will share the information so that you may do what you do best.”

“Good.” Zasz says and she simply closes the connection.

“Hmm... rude.” Crosswind notes. Then she requests contact with The Salve, the lead ship of The Unending Pact of Peace.

The image of a Shriketalon woman greets her. “Greetings Captain Shriketalon, I apologize for the wait. It’s unwise to keep the Charbis waiting, they find reason enough to be upset with others and it’s not wise to give them the excuse for more.”

“I understand entirely.” She says in a genial tone. “I just wanted to discuss what precautions and general concerns their may be with the upcoming battle. We’ve sent some attempted messages towards the opposing side in advance so we can be out of their way as well while we try to save lives, but we haven’t received anything in the way of answers. It appears that they’re either anti-social to a fault or paranoid to one.”

“Good, now while we are happy to give you the coordinates around our fleet formations and planned attacks so you can avoid beinc caught int he crossfire and know where to position yourselves to save the most lives, we are currently concerned about cybesecurity and will need to give your systems a few tests before we can freely share information with you. Hopefully you can understand.”

“Of course. As much as I’d prefer things to be settled diplomatically, there are practical concerns in not only the galaxy, but in the terrible truths of war.”

“Thank you for your understanding. The sooner we start, the sooner you can get underway, and the sooner that happens the more people we can pull out of the jaws of death.”

“Agreed, we’re also picking up a large number of volunteers while we’re here so we’re not overly in a rush anyways. We need to make sure they’re up to snuff when it comes to Ibu and Vishanyan physiology as both species are the major combatants in this skirmish.”

“Once we’re satisfied with your cybersecurity we’ll also be uploading medical files about the races that The Undaunted are fielding. Humans have a shocking number of peculiarities and an almost frightening awareness of their own biology. Surgically working on someone with a sack of acid as a major component to their digestive tract is liable to be tricky.” Admiral Crosswind says.

“Oh yes, I studied human biology, it’s as terrifying as it fascinating, and the really scary part is that all the proper sequences to have similar digestive tract is sleeping in every known species. It’s how your Undaunted Adjustments work so well.”

“I must admit I’m much more of a tactics, strategy and logistics kind of girl. The details of a genetic upgrade we offer are a bit past me.” Crosswind admits. “Still we need to get underway, so if there any issues that come up then please contact me to sort things out. As local Admiral I’m the final say in Zalwore affairs.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Production and Testing Centres, Undaunted Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

“And... this.” Jade says even as she finishes her project. It was exact. A simple scan of the classical blueprint and it had all come together. “Yeah, I suppose I really was Brenda Ripmaw...”

The armour was a universal pauldron with a mount bracket and the appropriate components in order to integrate it above an arm shoulder, forelimb shoulder, or even a rear limb shoulder. It would fit over a wing, a tail or any limb you cared to name. It could take a variety of older, more robust shield projectors or the targeting systems for the big cannons. The ones that even a Cannidor needs to brace hard to use. The ones that you need to give warning to everything in that general direction before using.

Not as fancy as ‘newer’ models. Hell it wasn’t as fancy as models a thousand years old. But it was so damn solid that the design keeps showing up in all sorts of armour the galaxy over. Borderline zero maintenance compared to magnetic, chemical or gravitational clamps and if it wasn’t so much heavier and less elegant looking. It was an eternally classic style.

“Shockingly simple to make.” The mechanic and researcher says next to her. “And it will incorporate into any limb armour?”

“Most any limb armour. You’ll need to scale it up for a Nagasha tail. But my own hips, shoulders and tail? It will work.” Jade says as she considers. “Hey... quick question...”

“Yes?”

“... If armour has been replaced. Every single piece of it. But not all at once. Is it the same armour?” She asks.

“Humans call it the ship of Theseus problem.” The Engineer says.

“Oh?”

“It has a couple parts to it. The first part is like your armour. But there’s a second part. One that as far as I can tell answers the question.”

“And what would that be?”

“Say a second suit of armour was made, out of nothing but the replaced parts of the first suit. Is the second suit of armour actually the first suit? Or is the first suit still the first, and the second the second?”

Jade blinks at that and considers as she turns back to the universal pauldron. It’s a fair question. It makes sense.

“I suppose it’s not. The ship, the armour... and me. We’re all still ourselves, even if we’ve been changed so much.”

“I’m sorry, I would been more delicate if I knew the question was more than philosophical musing.” The Engineer says.

“No. I prefer a blunt answer. Trying to spare someone’s feelings can just confuse them in the end.” Jade says. “Putting things into that context does help. I was used as a damn organ farm for decades. So much of me was torn out and sent to keep someone else alive that Brenda Ripmaw is just dead. And now I’m Jade and...”

“I’m really not the person you should be talking to about this.” The Engineer says and she coughs into her fist.

“Right, sorry, used to being around family all the time and...”

“Lady, please keep things at least partially professional. Anyone paying attention is already up to their eyeballs in some kind of drama. Lending out your own is just rude.” He says.

“You could stand to be a bit more polite about it.” Jade mentions. “Still, back onto... well the actual topic, the pauldron will work. It can be easily integrated into any heavier armour setup and used to mount a powerful shield, mini-turret, targeting system or any number of things.”

“Right, we’ll need to test it a bit and...”

“It’s a classical modification. It predates Galactic Trade the language and as an armour upgrade is still practical.”

“Right, well thank you for the demonstration. But we need to start testing now.”

“Right, I’ll see you later.” Jade says and there’s a sigh from him. She’s just not getting along with the engineer. Which is why now that she’s done, she’s out.

She heads out of the testing centre and rolls her neck a bit. The ‘Civilian’ parts of The Chainbreaker were all here on Zalwore for now. Those too young to properly sign up, or attached to those who were too young. Or those too pregnant to actually attend.

In the end, it was a borderline skeleton crew that was heading out on The Chainbreaker, and mostly the men. The timing of the war was just bad in that regard.

And here she was still sort of wrestling with her own past and the big revelation, that there was no big revelation. She was a no one normal woman who had the bad luck of running into terrible people and having a terrible fate foisted on her. No drama, no big story. Just bad luck and worse people.

How... anticlimactic. The vague daydreams of being some ancient warlady that had only barely been contained and forced to pay restitution with her body for her crimes, or being some part of a love triangle that wouldn’t end in a sister wife for some reason or some kind of heiress were all just smoke on the wind. Granted it had always just been silly imaginings. But the confirmation that she had in fact been No One McNobody.

The teacher of an elective course relating to the recreation of classical and archaic armour designs. Not a bad life, but not exciting. Not... not something that deserved being trapped in a dark room with her organs being torn out.

It was unfair. Distinctly and deeply unfair.

Was being Jade her second chance? Brenda Ripmaw was just... well she wasn’t a nobody, she was a teacher, and she had clearly been smart and dedicated to her craft... but it was...

She stops and then just regards her reflection in the window of one of the nearby shops. She vaguely notes that it’s a candy store that operates during the later hours and as such is closed. Meaning the windows are acting more like mirrors.

Mirrors that show the stark white and green furred Cannidor. Named after a precious stone. A Ripmaw and a Manglemaw.

A Bravo.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in frustration. “Gah. I wish things were just...”

She pauses. Considers and sighs. “I don’t know. Just something. The hell is wrong with me? Is this battle jitters or something? I’m not even going to fight, and dad’s too good a pilot to let the ship get shot, why am I so on edge about it and everything else?”

First Last

First

Many Faces Of War

“... for the stars! We were born for the stars! With a ship beneath our tails and an endless trail behind! With gumption and skill we bring the needed supplies...” Her waiting is interrupted by a softly singing voice before the room to the chamber is opened. In slithers a Nagasha Teen with a green tail, dark hair that hangs in curtains in front of the left half of his face and a grin on the still visible parts of his face. “Ah good, here you are. Let’s get to this shall we?”

“You are Lord Schmidt?” She asks. The Nagasha boy? Man? The Nagasha teenager carries himself with the full force of an adult but is clearly not fully grown. He’s almost ethereal in his appearance. Pale skin made almost glowing under the room lights and with the sheer shimmering white of his uniform and gloves he seems more dreamlike than real. The strange breaks in the pattern of his dark green and black tail just add to the strangeness, up to and including the strange hole near the end of it. It’s tiny on his lower body, but massive enough that if it were on someone’s chest it would be instantly lethal.

“Lord Heartytail of House Schmidt. First and founder. Now come on.” He offers her and she rises up from her seat. “So, from what I’ve read, you’re a Lablan Citizen that was captured by pirates and was forced to work on a prototype for a dangerous weapon. You’re now volunteering to join The Undaunted in their war efforts and you made this offer before Lablan had entirely officially joined the war effort.”

“Yes.” Vera answers.

“Well thankfully we just need an administrator or noble in good standing to make sure everything about this confusion is nice and straight, and as both a Lablan Noble and Undaunted Citizen I’m pretty much in the perfect position to smooth this out. It’s also a nice and easy job for me to get started in my own duties as a noble.”

“How many citizenships do you have?”

“I was born Free Fleetborn, captured by The Chaining, rescued by and adopted by one of the Founding Five Thousand Undaunted and after they helped me grow stronger I provided enough of a service to The Lablan Empire that I was ennobled. So three.” Lord Heartytail says as he slithers to the table next to her and puts down a data-pad. “Now to get through everything you just need a witness or appropriate rank in good standing as observer. This is just all the legal paperwork to say that you’re not being coerced, understand the dangers you’re going into and are still a loyal Lablan Citizen.”

“All this?”

“You’re not the first person and not the last person to want to go back in for another round or two after being screwed over by a hostile power. But we need at least something approaching informed and sober consent to let you do this.”

“Approaching?’

“Battle hunger, thirst for vengeance, there are dozens of little named ‘addictions’ and states of mind that aren’t all medically recognized listed as things you may be under and that you still acknowledge and would like to volunteer regardless.”

“So much trouble got keep me safe when the others...”

“Most of the others are fleetborn with a Zalwore Native rounding them out. At least for your engineering sisters in arms.” Lord Heartytail says. “Now how about...”

He pauses and looks back and there is a slight alteration around his face and her antenna twitches. She senses more of the electromagnetic spectrum with it and realizes his left eye has some power running through it.

“Lord Heartytail?”

“Yes?” He asks turning to her as her antenna moves a bit more and she senses it again.

“Are you... in good health?”

“... Actually I think I should ask you that.” He says as he brushes his curtain of shimmering black hair out of the left side of his face to reveal an elegant off white mask that blends in with his skin well enough and has four grey markings on the top from the right over the eye and another four from the left over the bottom. They look vaguely like a tracery of fingers.

“Are you alright?”

“I was captured by The Chaining for a time and being in close proximity to maniacs of that calibre tends to leave a mark.” Lord Heartytail says before letting out a slight huff. “I’ve gotten a lot of help to recover. But the boy I was before I encountered The Chaining is dead and gone. But from his remains, I’d like to think a better man has been born.”

“That’s... sad.”

“Maybe, but it helps with moving forward.” Lord Heartytail says. “Now, just make sure you at least read the summation of things. Otherwise I can’t honestly confirm that you have full and knowing consent to what’s going on.”

“I see...” Vera says sounding nervous as she scans things over with her eyes and antenna... but her antenna flick up over and over again. Then notices that as Lord Heartytail is adjusting his hair back into it’s curtain there’s something under his gloves. His combination of undaunted uniform and noble jacket is covering him well. He turns a little as he notices her gaze and she can see the Undaunted Insignia on the jacket, but also a small piece of what’s almost jewellry hanging just below it. It’s in the shape of his mask with gaps in it to mimic the markings on it.

“Are you alright?”

“... Why is the mask so important to you?” She asks and he faces her fully, brushes back his dark hair to reveal his mask, removes his gloves to reveal mechanical fingers, for some reason his thumbs are still organic. Then he pulls off his mask with the mechanical fingers on the markings.

The left side of his face is a brutal scar. It’s healed over, but the markings and borderline holes in his skin show that he’s been brutalized. A glowing red prosthetic eye glows in the savaged socket. The scars around the eye socket are particular, showing a brutal series of lines akin to claws.

He then holds out the mask and contemplates it. “Because it means I, Slithern Heartytail, grew to be Slithern Heartytail Schmidt. Slithern Heartytail alone was just counting his heartbeats until he finally knew the peace of death. But add the Schmidt? I put armour over my scars, not to hide them, but to break the blades of anyone who would ravage me again. You hurt me? It only works once, and you won’t survive to try twice. Because I am a Schmidt as well. I am Undaunted, and in growing Undaunted, I was declared Noble.”

He puts the mask back on and rises up. A sense of pride and satisfaction is pouring off him unspoken as his back straightens. “My wounds have become my weapons. My pain is now power, and any who would commit such horrors on another will have me and my drones to deal with.”

“... Is this why you’re the one who was sent to talk to me? To understand how to...” Vera asks in awe as she beholds him.

“Maybe someone was planning this. It may even be likely. Lablan seeks excellence in ways that The Undaunted find generally agreeable and vice versa. Now, back to actual business...”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Northern Landing Platform, Undaunted Arcology, Zalwore)•-•-•

Admiral Crosswind watches as the ships rise up. New recruits. Freshly trained and ready for action. Some of them are not going to come back, and she cannot help but wonder which. The intel had her concerned. She has faced forces in her time that seemed impossible to beat, and indeed, in straight up combat a small fleet with maybe a single battleship grade ship in it couldn’t take a hardened station. But it could siege one. It could damage it with kinetic rounds from afar and then hunt down any mining or resupply ships sent out to get the materials needed for repair.

A war that couldn’t be won with boldness generally needed patience and vice versa. Occasionally you’re on a campaign were deception, cunning or psychological tactics were required. She had even had a client renege on their contract with her and her forces before a third party that wanted both sides crushed had bought them up.

That one had been interesting.

Still, she was now part of a full on military polity now. Much more permanent, much more stable. The girl in charge of a primary training and deployment centre. And now her little hatchlings were gone. They’d already broken orbit and off to kill and die for the sake of an ego-maniac because whatever the hell was attacking La’ahbaron had crossed more lines than a girls playing with skip ropes.

“Good, I caught you when you’re not busy.” A familiar voice says and she turns to regard Migalla Brighteyes stalking up. The sharp eyed Andinus woman was clearly focused, but her Axiom presence was swirling in several directions. The association with the woman let Admiral Crosswind understand that it meant only one thing, she was uncertain, but wouldn’t admit it under torture.

A stubborn woman is a stubborn woman.

“Just watching our raw recruits soaring off. Wondering which will come back.”

“If any...” Migalla says grimly. “I’m here to speak to you about that.”

“Oh?”

“There’s an entry that needs to be taken off the lists. She’s not ready and will flunk out of basic training. So I’m just sparing you time, money and energy that can be better spent elsewhere.”

“... Even if your daughter signs up there’s little chance the war will continue long enough for her to get sent to the front before it’s over.” Crosswind says.

“Ashina isn’t anywhere near ready for military training. She’s barely getting her head straight on self responsibility. Putting her at the non-existent mercy of the Drill Instructors will break her in half.”

“Veers is off planet.”

“Maybe, but that over-muscled monster served as an example to the others. At the rate things are going then Undaunted Soldiers will be able to Null their own area and strangle you to death as you struggle to stand regardless of species.”

“And you don’t want your daughter to have that?”

“She’s not ready for it. She’s making progress, but isn’t ready for it.”

“There is basic tests. She’ll go through those and we can tell her she failed. No need for her to learn you pulled her out.” Admiral Crosswind says.

“... thank you. I love my daughter. Dearly. But she needs a fair bit more smartening up before...”

“We have trained some spoiled brats into proper soldiers.” Admiral Crosswind says.

“Maybe. But she’s not ready.”

“Your her mother. It’s going to take a long, long time for her to prove herself ready to you.”

“Well, she hasn’t yet.” Migalla says.

“Hmm... former criminal or not, that’s a very normal reaction.”

“Oh please, your job doesn’t make you any less a person, no less a mother no matter your job.” Migalla states. “Still... hopefully some of the ones that got a bit of a boost from me will be able to make the difference. A child going off to war and not coming back is just tragedy all around.”

“Ah but the question of when someone’s a child and when they’re an adult is the thing to ask.” Crosswind says.

“Ashina will always be my little girl.” Migalla states. “Even if she’s taking entire starships with her claws and tail alone, she will be my little girl.”

“Weren’t you pissed off at her for causing damage.”

“I can admit when I screwed up in raising her, but that won’t make me love her any less.” Migalla states. “Still, give her a fail. She’s not ready yet. Even if she can pass the tests, it’s not because she’s ready to be a soldier, it’s because she can pass a test and nothing else.”

“Nepotism, even to fail someone is still nepotism. If she passes the tests she will pass. That said, she’s not exactly had a lot in the way of difficult jobs until recently, and as someone with a route back out, back to a life that is far from intolerable she’s not as likely to hold on as much as some of the men escaping their gilded cages.”

“I wonder about her sometimes ,maybe my parenting would be easier to excuse if she was born a boy...” Migalla wonders even as Admiral Crosswind’s communicator starts beeping.

“Excuse me.” She says stepping away from Migalla and pulling it out. “Yes?”

“Ma’am, we have several civilian relief fleets desiring to coordinate with us specifically when it comes to navigating the La’ahbaron engagement zones.”

“I see...”

“We have The Deprivation’s Doom, a Mobile Hive Station of Charbis and The Unending Pact of Peace a Shriketalon Medical Fleet.”

“Mobile Hive Station? They rarely go out to... ah yes... the neural clamps, the implications are that the Vish will have nothing once they’re freed, and if they’re in any real numbers anything less than a Charbis Hive will see them starving. Send the details to my personal computer, my break ends shortly and I’ll see about them then.”

First Last Next

First

Elsewhere With Others

They had failed.

They had been so careful, so cautious and so very certain. But had failed. The enslaver had walked out of the fire, naked but unharmed. Her Evil Eye symbol purring with Axiom as the plasma washed over her.

She had broken them. Physically leaving them as piles on the floor. Some of her sisters in freedom had the good luck to die of shock.

She wasn’t so lucky. Nor were the others.

It was over when the last bolt into her neck tightened and the horrible, horrible device activated. Even worse. It’s letting her be aware. It’s just limiting her movements. If she wants to breathe she has to move with the directions of the device. She can’t even take a breath without it’s say so.

And it’s so very cruel. The enslaver does not broke betrayal, does not tolerate disrespect.

She and her sisters are marched through a crowd of furious spurning Vish. All of them indoctrinated, all of them thinking that all they want in life is to serve. Never looking to or asking for more.

They hate her for desiring their freedom. For wanting them to have the things that others take for granted.

The implant forces her to march with her sisters into a series of smaller ships. Heavily armed, barely armoured, the orders are clear.

They are to die as they kill the Ambush Fleet. Even if they succeed, their implants will stop their hearts and shut them down.

If they are captured they will be killed.

The ships are bombs. They are to either bathe the enemy ships in plasma or slam into them and detonate.

A single titan has been sent out in advance. They will be following it by seventy two hours. They are to use it as distraction to kill the enemy. Draw the eye with an unstoppable monster and then deliver the killing blow.

She is forced to march into the ship and turns to take one last look at her people. Hating her. Screaming at her. Abusing her as the darkness descends.

The Enslaver controlled her movements now. She wants her to linger, to see the pain.

There is no light in the ‘bridge’ of the mockery of a ship. But her movements are calibrated to operate things.

There are sniffles and sobs in the darkness from her fellows. She cannot talk to them. She cannot offer words of encouragement.

She can’t even scream in frustration. She is left in darkness, as her eyes slowly adjust to see her sisters around her, as she learns that the horrible implants allow them to weep and wail. But expressing anything other than grief and helplessness is forbidden.

They eat only enough nutrient paste to stay alive and sip a few drops of water.

There is a stink to fear and grief. It’s hard to compare to anything, but it is sharp and smothering. It overwhelms the ship.

They are forced to soil themselves in their seats. Not that the fraction of food they’re getting allows much in the way of refuse to exist. They don’t sleep, they get nothing. Only full awareness that they’re going to die uselessly in the darkness. That they’re going to die serving the monster they had tried and failed to kill.

They arrive at the system. It’s been days and she’s mildly dozing as they enter. The programming taking over her body has her read out the systems and then it hesitates. The sudden grinding to a halt of the programming in the neural clamps. There is a shifting as her sisters on the bridge with her turn under the direction of the clamps.

“Target absent.” It says with her mouth, in a voice that is harsh and emotionless.

Axiom suddenly swells and she turns with blades erupting from her wrists as the lasers incorporated into her hood heat up.

There is a sting to her chest and reality lurches.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Guarded Medical Bay, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

Home At War

“So you were right.” Harold notes to Admiral Longitude. “We were able to get the instructions out of the clamps with a digital recreation of a Vish to trick them. The clamps kill them the moment they confirm the poor woman is captured.”

“Meaning the teleport into instant stasis is the best option.” Longitude remarks.

“Yes ma’am. Now, what I couldn’t help but notice is that these ones have a much, much more thorough programming in their clamps. A lot of it’s data was dedicated to preventing all sorts of rebellion or ways to try and get around things. You don’t get that thorough unless you expect things to go wrong.” He says.

“Well either way, we’re about to find out. Our dear Pink friend is awake and listening.” Longitude says.

“Really? I hardly noticed. Granted I tend to pay attention more to the area of active threats. Meaning our friend here is looking to the peaceful route of things.” Harold notes even as the Vish woman opens her eyes now that she’s been exposed and he lets out a pensive sound.

“Identical to your Velocity isn’t she?” Longitude asks.

“It is confirmation that the Vish are using the same gene patterns at any rate.” Harold notes.

“His Velocity?”

“My Vishanyan wife. Calculated Velocity of Victory. Mother of my daughter Miracle.”

“Mother?” The Vish asks.

“Yes. Vishanyan, and their cousins The Vish are capable of having children.” Harold says.

“Child.” Longitude says leaning closer and gently caressing her on the top of the head. “You’re safe, you’re free.”

“Free?” The Vish asks.

“The others didn’t have a name, just a number. Would you like a name given to you, do you have one to give, or would you like to learn the Vishanyan tradition of finding your own name?” He asks her.

“Who are you people?”

“I am Harold Jameson, Commodore of the Ambush Fleet. This lovely lady is Admiral Longitude. Leader of and liberator of the Vishanyan, a fleet of Vish who have chosen to live free.” He explains.

“And... and I’m free?”

“You and every girl in those bomb rigged ships. We were ready for them this time. So we’re going over all the data. Which leads to a very important question.”

“What is it?”

“Are you feeling more that you’re done with war and fighting, or do you want to help us save your people?”

“What?”

“We’re going to save them. All that we can.” Longitude promises her.

“Why does it matter to you?” She asks.

“A life looking over your shoulder because you’re not suited to mindless obedience doesn’t give a lot of room for philosophical thought, now does it?” Harold asks.

“Why are you helping us? Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill us?” She asks.

“Only in some respects. Don’t you worry, we’re getting lots of tactical benefit to taking you alive as well.” Harold assures her before he pulls out his communicator. “Still, if you want to see how dedicated we are to making sure you get something good out of this...”

“You’re bringing her in?”

“If she’s up for it. Her new maternal instincts are incredibly powerful. She’s really big into nesting so it’s hard to say if she can pry herself out of the nursery with little Miracle.” Harold says as he reads the response he just got. “Hmm... a compromise option. One that works.”

“Oh?”

“She’s willing to have a call. Just give me a moment to synch things up.” Harold says. “Although... seeing her and Miracle would likely be good for everyone. Hope is the kind of nourishment that can get the dead to stand up straight and start living. Sometimes near literally.”

“Who are you talking about, who is Velocity?” The captured Vish asks.

“She is one of my lower ranked commanders. I sent her and Unending Rain of Retribution after this man when he proved himself capable of seeing through our stealth with ease. The end result was that we were completely exposed, brought into the protection of another species and the two officers I sent after him are his wife and adoptive daughter now. With his wife giving birth to the first natural born Vishanyan, which is a Vish who is free.”

“Free. That’s what I want for all my sisters... what I was nearly killed for giving to them, and a little girl just has it the moment she leaves the tube.”

“Hatched.” Harold corrects her.

“What?”

“Vish and Vishanyan hatch from eggs when not cloned or sequenced.” Harold tells her. “Little Miracle had her egg tooth fall off just yesterday. It’s in a little silver box.”

“Oh has she? That’s almost a pity, that little spike was adorable.”

“Maybe, but it was angled straight out, so it was nicking against Velocity whenever she ate. Thankfully the Maternal Change also seems to have reinforced her scales...”

“The what?”

“It turns out, that when Vish or Vishanyan have children, they undergo a rapid change that reinforces them as powerful protectors. Less subtle, but a mother becomes a living wall to keep her daughters safe.” Harold explains.

“Makes a woman wonder what kind of changes a son might undergo.” Longitude notes. “Still, with how many Vishanyan have already volunteered to be mothers... we’ll figure it out sooner rather than later.”

“Something I should know?”

“Only that we have an expectant Vishanyan planning on calling her son Harold.” Longitude says and Harold lets out a thoughtful sound.

“Well... if nothing else talking to the little guy later in his life will be interesting.” Harold notes. “Still, let’s get everyone awake.”

“Did we lose anyone?” The Vish asks.

“No. We were more than ready for you.” Harold says.

“When can we save the rest?” She asks.

“When we know where to strike.” Longitude says.

“If the ship has been properly made, then there’s an extra, hardened data repository. They start to let out a specific frequency after one week. It will have all the coordinates. Every last one.” She says. “But be careful. All but one or two buildings are heavily mobile. And any force approaching the planetary fortresses will find themselves crushed under sheer weight of numbers by women who are willing to die to merely inconvenience their enemies.”

“Perfect. We were sifting through the remains of the ship that brought that Diamond Claw over in hoping to find something like that. But you said If?”

“I did. I and my sisters... we tried to rebel. We failed and were clamped. I wasn’t able to even fully sleep while they had me pilot out here to my doom.”

“Yes, a lot of these Vish are simply sleeping at this point. Too exhausted to wake.” Longitude says. “... It reminds me of my own days sparking my own rebellion that you woke up so quickly compared to the rest.”

“Although speaking of rest, perhaps it’s best if we let her get back to her own for now? We have reinforced repositories to find and she clearly needs more sleep.” Harold says and Longitude nods in agreement. “Still, the thing you need to know madam is that you are safe. You can rest, you can heal, and your malefactor trying to destroy you, instead delivered you to salvation.”

“One last thing.” She says and both Longitude and Harold give her their full attention. “She’s done something to herself. The Enslaver. The horrible blue monster is immune to plasma.”

“Blue monster?” Harold asks. “Is she another Vish?”

“No, an Ibu’Cjeo. She uses some kind of Eye Symbol on her that feels... strange.” The Vish says.

“Symbol... wait.” Harold’s eyebrows go up before he shucks his jacket and begins unbuttoning his shirt. Once that’s off he turns so his left shoulder is facing her. “Did that symbol have any kind of resemblance to this in the Axiom?”

“It’s an eye. But... it sings in the Axiom like yours does.” The Vish says and Harold lets out a considering hum. “What is it?”

“This is a protective brand. A powerful one. So the leader of the enemy forces is an Ibu’Cjeo with an Axiom Brand in the shape of an eye... Ma’am, thank you. Truly. Even if the repositories on your ship have been removed or damaged, the fact you’re willing and able to speak with us is a blessing. We’ve been struggling with the others we’ve captured.”

“What happened to them?”

“Full recovery on the physical level, but they’re all convinced that they’re evil and deserved the horrible punishments that have been forced on to them.” Longitude explains.

“No! They don’t deserve any of that! What’s happening to them is evil and cruel and wrong!” The Vish protests.

“I agree. But while they’re healing they’re also unwilling to give information, and I think we can all agree that interrogating them is pretty much out of the question.” Longitude says and Harold nods.

“Even if such tactics as crude as torture actually worked, and they generally don’t, we wouldn’t be using them in this situation. It’s clear that they’re traumatized victims of our enemy, not supporters, and like most trauma victims, actually getting them to speak on their torment is difficult in many, many regards. And requires a touch both light, and very sympathetic.” Harold assures her.

“Okay, okay I can give you a full report and...” The Vish starts to say and Harold walks up and gently guides her back down. “What?”

“Get some sleep. Once you’ve rested, had a good meal and managed to clean yourself, then we can start talking about those things.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I choose to care.”

“Is that it?”

“That’s just one of many reasons, but hopefully it’s enough of one.”

“... Thank you.” She says.

“You’re welcome. Now miss...”

“Freesoul.” She interrupts even as she gets comfortable.

“Now Miss Freesoul. Please get some rest.” Harold bids her and she nods a little before her eyes close and she quickly drifts off.

First Last

First

Meanwhile! At the LAB!

“Alright gentlemen. I couldn’t help but pick up some very excited tones, meaning we have some fun information. Let’s hear it.” Harold asks walking into The RAD’s main Laboratory. Wordlessly Herbert walks up to him and without either saying anything Harold lifts Herbert up who then rides on his back to see things at the same height.

“Are you two doing a bit or something?”

“Herbert’s up to something, I’m just going with it.”

“I thought I was going with what you’re going with.” Herbert answers and the brothers give each other a measured look and then both shrug.

“We’re doing something.” Harold notes. “Now, what have you found?”

“We appear to have created a new form of FTL travel.” The lead scientist says and Harold pauses.

“... It can’t be a reliable one. Or at least not a safe one. Otherwise it likely would have been discovered before.” Harold says. “Unless, it has been discovered before and we simply have some extra context to this.”

“You’re a little too sharp sometimes commodore.” The Scientist says with a sigh. “But you are correct. Still, we now understand how The Curse travelled in the manner it did, why it has been completely immune to wear and tear despite how flimsy the stickers and drawings on the outside of the shuttle are, and even how it got into and out of Cruel Space without harm.”

“It’s the Od isn’t it? Probability had it skip into the Od and then reappear elsewhere because distance doesn’t really exist in it.”

“Okay sir, if you’re going to take the fun out of the job then I’m not going to do it anymore.” The Scientist theatrically sulks. “But yes. It also explains why it’s not widely in use. The fucking Hargath are doing a hell of a Yathri impression.”

“Yathri?” Harold asks.

“Vicious carnivore fish from his homeworld. Think piranha and you’re basically right.” Herbert says.

“Oh okay, there’s like eight different things called Yathri off the top my head.”

“There’s only so many sounds and combinations of them. But that’s not the point. Anything alive sent through a probability jump does not come out the other side, with only small traces of blood or hair remaining on the other end. That is the known factor. The fact that any already dead matter or non-living matter that was sent through was untouched really confused people. Couple that with how finicky probability manipulation can be and you can understand why the technology was abandoned. The amount of work to send even a small amount of resources into the Other Direction and have it appear on the other side was far, far greater than the possible rewards, and since it was also very easy to get wrong and generally needed the touch of a very skilled Adept, the technology was abandoned. It periodically gets picked back up again as other people try to see if they can’t make something of it. But my summation of things is about the level of progress that’s been made over the past two thousand years.”

He then gestures to a pair of areas behind plexiglass. There is a crate in one and then there is a tiny surge of Axiom and it’s in the other. “The sheer amount of calculation and balance to make a controlled burst like that is delicate and frustrating in the extreme. Add to the fact that you can’t transport anything living through it and you can certainly see why no one has bothered to follow through on this technological avenue.”

“Okay so what happened?”

“What happened is that the luck bullet basically hit the right frequency to send it into a recursive pattern. Popping from random location in the galaxy to random location in the galaxy. I was actually able to dig up a few ghost stories and reports of a ship that would appear and then disappear without seeming rhyme or reason. Usually in tourist areas where it would sit until something was done to it. Usually in the area of someone slapping a sticker on it, or in some cases toss a souvenir on the front.”

“Then why are the hats and such inside the cargo bay of the shuttle and not on the front or fallen off or the like?”

“The windshield. It phases out first and phases in last. The Hull phases second and there’s some kind of movement within it. Shifting things from inside standard space to Od in this way has some form of pressure applied to things, and it’s not even. Here...”

He walks to the contained area and opens the door in the plexiglass. He then opens the top and waves over Harold and Herbert. They look down into the box. There are several instruments frozen in place with their last readings.

“What are we looking at?”

“We can’t use any Axiom tech as we study this phenomenon, that seriously slows things down. But there is some force moving, some kind of buildup in and around the object being warped like this. It appears that THAT is what hit the Diamond Claw, The Curse merely flew down through the remains and the only thing it hit was the Haffara Thar and eggs.”

“Which explains how it survived the impact. What about the evidence that it was near Earth?’

“Just an image from it’s perspective, but it WAS near enough to it to be detected, and we’ve already narrowed down the apparent date of that incident, meaning we can outright ask for information on the next message sent to Earth.”

“A pity we didn’t kick off this war a little earlier, we’d be able to get the information request in on The Inevitable.” Harold notes.

“Yeah, that’d work great. ‘Hello people of Earth who think we’re traitors and likely have designs on our families, we lost a ship near you for a fraction of a second can you confirm it? We’re definitely not trying to make a bomb to get revenge on you assholes for the dozens of contradictory orders that meant that we couldn’t do anything without being traitors.’”

“True, hopefully the information that Observer Wu brings back will explain The Curse’s presence there to some extent. It’s a pity that the best course of action is born of our inability to openly and easily speak with them.”

“In more primitive times kingdoms had decent relationships with months in between them.” Herbert considers then sighs. “But then again I don’t think there was any nation that had the strange relationship that we have with Earth.”

“Sure there was, the American Colonies. Granted we really narrowed the timeframe but a colony that was hoped to be a resource for the sovereign nation turning around and declaring it’s independence?”

“Hmm.. well if we can hurry through if not outright skip the war, then I’ll be thankful.” Herbert notes as he gestures for Harold to hold his arm out and when he does he swings off it like monkey bars and steps up to the measuring tools. “This is almost all analgue tech and are these impact patches?”

“They are. But more important is to the right of them.” The Scientist says and Herbert grabs the communicator. He tries activating it a few times.

“Dead.” He says.

“That’s right. So how and why was The Curse’s own electrical systems so intact after that many skips into the Od?”

“A very good question. I thought at first because it might have been more analogue and less demanding on the Axiom, which that model of ship is. But that communicator, and the other five I’ve already experimented with, all use varying degrees of Axiom and that one in particular is the second lowest amount. But none of them have come through with systems intact?”

“Maybe it’s in a sweet spot where the system is large enough to disperse the damage from growing too extreme and it’s contact with the Od was short enough to prevent saturation?”

“That’s what I’m investigating next. But before that, please examine the images on the data slate there.”

“Why?”

“It’s so you don’t get the bright idea of putting someone in stasis or in a chemically induced false death state to try and skirt around the no living material limitation of this teleportation method.”

“Oh, let me guess, the gruesome remains.” Harold asks as he walks over and picks up the data-slate. “Looks like a rabid monkey with a knife was at this.”

“Keep going.” The scientist says as he measures things again. “Kinetic impacts still. IF that can be harnessed then we’re cooking.”

“What are you thinking?” Herbert asks.

“Well. If we could narrow the effects of a luck bullet we could change them into a sort of generic kinetic shot that works the same way that The Curse did, builds an improbably amount of energy and slams it into the target before arrival so that the actual delivery device is unharmed. The Curse worked like a bullet, but was undamaged after being fired.”

“We’re not exactly short on bullets you know.”

“I know, I was thinking of maybe getting something like how to use a giant ship to Ram something. The Curse is big enough to work as a small APC, but as ships go it’s tiny. And it still caused enough damage with the energy it either carried or directed to reshape a planet. And then it can get up and do it again. Tell me that’s not a sexy sounding weapon.”

“The downside is that it can’t be properly directed.”

“Not by any form of person. But a VI...”

“Shredded by the Ode.”

“Not if it’s analogue.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s possible, but extremely difficult, to create a clockwork computer. There are several styles of technology that go halfway to it and we just need to follow it down to the limit. Now granted, it won’t be able to input and store new data. But with just timing mechanisms and a bit of innovation we can weaponize what The Curse did. That kind of force is a fleet ender.”

“Have you put anything clockwork into the Od yet? It works on it’s own level of physics and might interfere with the mechanisms in the extreme. I’m half convinced part of the reason it does the damage it does isn’t just because the energy is monstrously more powerful and at another frequency entirely, but that the energy might be in all parts of the system simultaneously regardless of isolation or resisters.”

“To say nothing about the fact that time really isn’t a thing in there either.” Herbert notes as he’s now done examining the tools in the crate and he takes the Data-Slate that Harold offers him. “Wow, damn I normally need to get into the dungeon of a real sicko to see stuff like this normally.”

“You were mentioning time?” Harold reminds him.

“Right, well, time’s not really a thing in the Od, so even if something clockwork doesn’t have a hundred weird things happening to it, why wouldn’t it just fail because no time is happening? Or fire early or late or at seeming random because it’s interacting with time at an angle that’s impossible to predict?”

“Hence why I need to do a lot more testing. The point of all this though is that we’ve started to crack open the mystery surrounding The Curse and through it, understanding more about The Od and it’s Ode.”

Herbert scrunches his eyes up and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Something wrong?”

“Only that it really does sound stupid when it’s said like that.” Herbert notes.

“Brother we both know at least two languages that are verbally expressed through beatboxing. And are literate in three that use a combination of hieroglyphs and graffiti. Everything we can possibly say is stupid in one manner or another.”

“I know I know, sometimes it just hits me and I need a moment to reset my mind.” Herbert says.

“When was the last time it hit you?”

“When I was holding a flamethrower configuration plasma rifle to the rear exit of a Lydris kidnapper and demanding that all four of her to put down the naked and oiled up men. Thankfully I was just the distraction so we could use a dart launcher to tag all four boys with teleport beacons and get them all out of there before we hit the woman with stun and knockout effects.”

“The fact I honestly cannot tell if you’re outright fucking with me specifically or simply reminiscing about something that recently happened is... wow. Well I always did want to discover interesting things and work with fascinating people. I can’t complain that I’m getting exactly what I want.”

“Life’s just...” Harold begins before his communicator goes off and he answers it. “Commodore Jameson here.”

“Sir, we’ve recovered identifying portions of The Type Zero. The representative from Endurance, Shell and Shield has confirmed that it’s what we need to claim the bounty.”

“Good.”

First Last

First

Undying Blues

He catches the last bit of the conversation even as he absorbs the information properly while walking past. He has a system down, he is ready. But he doesn’t fully know for what anymore.

“... don’t know what it was exactly that hit it.” The voice of the commanding officer states. The knowledge that they were all always doing a game of false names and second guessing was... irritating. The level in which it had recently been implied he’d been lied to was absurd. But the fun part of recording everything was that he didn’t have to. Tiny little markings, just little drips of drops of Axiom here and there, mixed with ink, mixed with his blood.

Each so tiny that from his claw they extended behind the first few layers of the molecular structure of things. Hiding the markings he was leaving behind. Hiding them even from chemical scanners. He simply placed his hand upon a wall and acted like he was pondering his route back to his quarters, and while it occurred he could tap in a marking.

If he was an adept and not a courtesan he would be able to do far more with his markings than have them simply record things. Perhaps he could use them as beacons? But how could he develop such techniques when under endless scrutiny? He was already cheating so much with so many tiny tricks it made his head spin from how much his own capacity had extended.

He was getting rather good at this. Ink and blood under his claw. Extending into the walls and walking by them to find the data. Meditation let him access the data sphere and clip out unimportant bits.

He had also taken to wandering a little. The complaint about growing bored of the art and seeking to at least vary his walking path had not gone over well, but the fact that he was clearly only using the doors as navigation points and not even trying to enter any of them had allowed him the freedom.

Which had taught him something else. The building was well and truly crafted in the siege style. An old Ibu trick where palaces that were too valuable in their own right to outright destroy had every wall disguised as a load bearing wall and arranged as a maze.

Which mean there were likely many secret passageways. It also explained the sheer amount of portals. Getting around a siege style structure without phasing through the walls, using passages or outright teleporting was tedious on a good day. And outright stupid if one was in a rush.

He returns to his own quarters at a normal clip and quickly touches up the discretion palaces. They were in need of repair. The daughters were too swift, too aggressive to be sequestered. So far. They had destroyed his reinforced palaces twice and he was making them stronger each time.

If he could get one alone then it would be perfect, or use a wide range stasis field and then peel it back strategically he could then get one at a time. But he’s not permitted to use stasis and is not being told why.

He enters the Indulgence Fortress and begins his ‘inspection’ of it. But does not pull out the sphere. Someone is here.

“Very sturdy these walls.” Yalri notes.

“Very unsubtle this spymistress. What do you require madam?” He asks her and she looks him up and down.

“... I have no evidence of it. You’re doing very well in covering yourself. But I’m not fooled. I know you’re up to something.”

“Of course.” He answers.

“Is that a confession?”

“I’ve always been open about the fact I am not your ally. But you really don’t understand how I operate do you? You are so desperate to find a dagger in the dark or poison in the cup that you struggle to understand that my weapon isn’t a blade or even a spoken word. It’s compassion, empathy, understanding. Things deeper than mere language and more ephemeral than physical harm.”

“But you can’t actually hurt us.”

“No.” He answers.

“... I don’t believe you. I will find out what you’re doing and how.”

“I suppose we all need hobbies. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No. But you’re going to attempt to rescue one of The Lady’s Daughters later today.”

“Of course. I’ve been practising and hopefully they won’t thrash me against the Indulgence Fortress until it shatters this time.” Danburi says agreeably. “Tell me, has my dear aunt decided to allow the separation of her three daughters? Or am I about to have another interesting experience in returning to life? I do hope not, I’m running out of clothing.”

“The lady will not have her children separated.”

“I see... and with how much trytite I’ve incorporated into the Fortress teleporting it out is nigh impossible. To that effect has Lady Ungora at least installed any of my suggestions? A trapdoor to drop the palace into when a daughter is contained? A slot in the door so we may tie a rope to it and pull it back? Or even a simple winch on the ceiling to hold it high and out of the range and wrath of the sisters?”

“No. She has not.”

“Well... at least I’m getting plenty of practice creating new Indulgence Fortresses. I’ll have the art down to a proper science by the time I’m returned home.”

“Yes... I’ve noticed you’ve been spending more and more time in meditation, particularly in these fortresses you’ve been making.”

“I’ve been learning to draw more and more power from the Inner Animal. If I fail to contain it and lose myself I do not desire to senselessly rampage. Not to mention when I aid my cousins in their indulgence it will be in here. How is practice to do what I’ve been told to do suspicious?”

“Because you are a social manipulator on a professional level and admittedly hostile. Everything you do an say when being watched is suspect. And what you’re up to when you’re NOT being watched even more so.”

“So in other words it doesn’t matter what I do or when I do it, you will be suspicious.” He concludes.

“Yes.”

“How tiring. Are you certain you do not wish to indulge?”

“Positive.”

“Well, if there’s nothing else I’m going to be needing some privacy. I know that you undoubtedly have seen me in the nude more than once, but I still have some sense or propriety and shame. Please depart as I must loosen my clothing for these meditations and I would rather not be... observed let us call it.”

She lets out a little sound in her throat that’s halfway between acknowledging and dismissing as she starts walking to leave the fortress. She doesn’t actually leave and he knows it, but he pretends otherwise as he steps deeper into the fortress and removes his robe entirely before dimply draping it across his back, more akin to a cape than a robe. Then he places his feet and fists together to focus.

The sensation is not pleasant. And he hopes it never will be pleasant. He takes a deep breath to keep his breathing steady as the contortions start with his limbs this time. Stretching his bones as they reinforce even further than normal. He can feel it stretching against his skin as the tiny claws on the ends of his fingers start stretching into full on talons. Then the skin and muscle start growing to keep pace as his spine and ribs start distorting as well.

He’s going for control of his head. Just his head. The rest slowly twists into an unholy monstrosity. So enormously overdeveloped in the upper body that loping about like a primate might be the swifter option. Then his lower body contorts and the sounds are even worse as the larger muscles and bones are much less subtle on the audible scale.

That is when Yalri departs and he smirks. Then moments later, out of what seems to be a tear duct, the data sphere falls from his face and into the twisted weapon of brutality that his right hand has become. Under the Axiom it balances upright upon one of the points and he flicks it up to balance upon the top of his right index finger.

He makes a circle with his left middle finger and thumb and holds it between the data sphere and his own eyes and after a few moments images fill the air in the circle. Sound emanates from it and he quickly finds what he’s looking for.

“Okay Spy Girl, what is so damn important that we need to...” Alicent begins the conversation.

“Shut up you idiot. You know that fleet that’s coming? The Ambush fleet?” Yalri demands.

“The admitted distraction that could still be a threat? Yes. We sent a greater beast to intercept and keep them busy. What of it?”

“The beast is dead.”

“... It’s not killable. Short of somehow getting the giant thing to sit still long enough to throw it into a star then it’s just not happening.”

“It happened.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But even worse than that is how they tried and failed to kill it.”

“How are the failures more concerning than the success?”

“Because when the enemy is throwing out massive Null Events, Annihilation Effects and full on Event Horizons at a target with woman portable weapons, we have a problem.”

“Event Horizons?”

“Yes.”

“As in black holes?”

“Yes.”

“As in one of the most dangerous things in space, so powerful the entire galaxy literally revolves around a cluster of particularly powerful ones?”

“Indeed.”

“As in the threats that have lo odds of potentially destroying entire worlds with little to no warning because they drink in all the light around them and without the right equipment can be completely unnoticeable?”

“In theory, in practice I don’t think that’s ever actually happened.”

“Okay, so why are you bringing up what didn’t kill it, over what did?”

“Because we don’t know what it was exactly that hit it.”

And that’s the entire conversation. Which makes Danburi smile even as he quickly scans through the rest of the information in the data sphere and quickly deletes empty air. He’s not entirely sure how much storage he has in it, but he can’t afford to waste any space.

He then re-conceals the data sphere and adjusts his robe over his shoulders. Thankfully his underthigns stretched to accommodate his new enormous size. Not that he would be seen as anything sexual at this state. He resembles an animal that was feral on a good day and has clearly gone rabid. All but the head and face.

The strain of holding it together and holding back one piece of the change is inducing a brutal headache in on him. It feels like his brain is trying to grow horns of his own and is pushing down on itself even as it tries to stab out of his skull from within.

He walks out of the Indulgence Fortress and then puts on a little show of struggling to control himself, and then stops trying to be a monster and shrinks downwards, all on camera, all for everyone to see. He wraps the robe around himself again and then walks to a plush seat to simply sit down and take deep even breaths.

He feels the wretched thing inside him squirm a little in response to everything and suppresses the urge to punch himself where he knows the thing is. Even if it is an exercise in futility. He knows it will not only survive any blow he can strike, but that it will also shift position.

Still, the immortality is proving to be no obstacle to the enemies his aunt has made. Which is good. She is going to grow desperate, especially if they can’t identify exactly how they did it. No doubt some kind of elegant solution on par with if not surpassing the immortality severing sword she has.

At least the implication the weapon was portable by a single soul implies it’s a simple weapon, which means that no doubt the troops on the front will soon have them and be able to use them after identifying unkillable opponents and removing the negative portion of the previous descriptor.

Perhaps he’ll even get lucky and find them describing it. If it can be easily replicated... well. He’s not a fighter and certainly no assassin. But if it will stop the pain and misery that La’ahbaron is undergoing then he’s willing to branch out his skills further.

It’s not like he hasn’t already made more moral and personal compromises he had thought himself capable of already.

First Last

First

Home at War

“Could you please repeat that Commodore Jameson?” Admiral Cistern asks.

“We have reason to believe that The Curse has crossed the galaxy at least twice, potentially moving through Cruel Space itself, then hit the Diamond Claw at such a perfect angle to completely shatter the carapace of the monster and shred the internals to leave the Haffara Thar and it’s eggs exposed before crushing them against it’s windshield.”

“And your method of tracking it?”

“It’s black box has heavily fragmented data and we have several images of Earth on it as well as coordinates that match it. Which by itself is...” Harold waves his hand and leans back in his seat as he just looks away and seems to be searching for some kind of reason or logic to a world that has abandoned both concepts entirely. “Anyways, we have found a series of stickers across the outer hull. No way to know exactly how they’ve been preserved. Research is going slowly as many of my scientists and researchers are taking breaks to try and come to grips with the sheer absurdity of what we’re dealing with.”

“Did the stickers make things worse?”

“In a variety of ways. Particularly the sequence. Essentially there are several worlds that layered the stickers on each other to spell out Don’t Panic if phonetically spoken in the appropriate languages. Doralis, Noctora, Tenthalus, Pret and Anic. Currently they’re trying to date all the stickers and when they were applied before looking for The Curse in and around the world, if we can confirm it’s location in those places and times then we’ll have some questions answered. Personally I’m hoping we find some sticker collection somewhere had been damaged or something and a lot of stickers are now located on The Curse. Otherwise this ship has been far, far faster than anything else in the galaxy and not by a small margin. We’ve managed to locate every world from each sticker, and even with the optimal route with nothing slowing them down, it would take another three years to make all the distance. Let alone time enough to hold the ship still long enough to apply a sticker.”

“Do you have a plan from here on out?”

“The Curse is in a cargo bay, it just barely fits, and it’s going to stay in there until we’ve tested everything. We’ve already scrapped the remains of the Haffara Thar off the windshield and are testing them. Seeing if we can’t find some kind of organic weakness out of the shattered remains of the creature.”

“Anything else?”

“The world is no longer recognizable after the damage that was done, we’ve recovered large portions of the Diamond Claw and the research team that isn’t involved in studying The Curse or Haffara Thar remains are instead studying the shell of the creature in hopes to make some use of it. I have my doubts personally, I suspect much if not all of it’s sheer size and power was due to the Haffara Thar and not applicable. If it is, then good we get better armour and potentially a powerful coating for our solid munitions. If not then we can sell the shell portions to offset the war expenditures.”

“True, the remains of the largest Diamond Claw in galactic history is going to be valuable.” Admiral Cistern agrees. “Is the curse still... functional?”

“It is. The Curse remains a fully capable inner system shuttle. Granted with the big window on the front of it I wouldn’t trust that thing out of atmosphere. There’s not even dust on the inside. But there is... cargo.”

“Of what kind?”

“A lot of fabrics items like hats or headbands and little artistic pieces that are easily bought like painted rocks or bead necklaces. It honestly looks like the junk a chronic tourist would pick up if they went from place to place and always bought a souvenir.”

“So it was touring the galaxy, far faster and far further than it should have been able to, only to crash on your enemies.”

“Yes.”

“... The odds of any part of this happening was nothing short of absurd.”

“To the point sir that the Gravia that are part of the fleet have actually frozen or outright glitched.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The situation is so absurd it nearly caused health issues for the living math equations.” Harold says.

“I see. So the situation is so absurd that it’s a borderline cognito hazard. Causing mental damage the more one thinks on it.”

“Yes.”

“Very well, this part of the report and documentation of the war effort will be redacted with a warning. Low security so that so long as someone understands the danger of the information they will be permitted to review it. Would you care for some personal advice Commodore Jameson?”

“Gladly.”

“Just move on. The less you dwell on the inherit absurdity or seeming randomness of the world the more you actually get done. Yes, the absurd can and will happen. But even more than the odds of something truly ludicrous happening, the danger in the situation is letting it paralyze you.”

“And where did you learn this lesson?”

“When random illegal crab traps nearly got ten men killed and two of the men in question actually had enough of a history with the fisherman that it could have been construed as a legitimate assassination attempt. Hearing an investigation devolve into declarations that if they knew things would happen this way they would have tried harder left me stunned for a time.” Admiral Cistern explains. “Then there was the depth charge incident... and the shot in the dark affair... and the nesting event. Needless to say, you need to learn to roll when the unexpected strikes. You even get an easier variant because you more or less induced itself and you know it, so that should make it easier to sort out.”

“Sir those incidents are...”

“The Depth Charge Incident was when a salvager discovered what he believed to be a completely inert depth charge and was taking it to his workshop to break down. A small convoy I was in charge of was nearby and the conditions of the road meant that the charge bounced out of the salvagers flatbed, rolled down the road and crashed into a jeep with enough force to flip it. The shot in the dark affair was some stupid hunter letting his rifle discharge while pointing at the sky. By sheer coincidence it shot a coffee mug out of my hand and put the entire base on high alert. The Nesting Event was when a series of birds decided the satellite dishes and antenna in and around our base were the perfect nesting spots and basically destroyed our reception. Repeatedly. We had to post constant guards to keep them clean.”

“Believed it was a completely inert depth charge?”

“Yes, it went off only after we we tried to tow it out of the twisted remains of the jeep it had embedded itself into. Which did wonders in separating the two as we intended, but not in the way we hoped. At all.”

“Casualties?”

“None, but some damage and a pothole. It wasn’t completely inert, but it was close enough that the EOD boys claimed it could barely blow your nose.”

“I’ve heard some EOD boys refer to anything smaller than a megaton as a nose blower.” Harold notes.

“It is, and if we’re reminiscing about stories then we’ve clearly exhausted the actual important details.”

“So far sir.”

“Good, as you were Commodore.” Admiral Cistern says and before the line closes there’s a quick wave from Herbert who jumps up from behind him. Harold smiles at that. His brother is clearly having his fun, which is good. Bodyguard duty can be either duller than dull are far, far too complicated and with very little room between the two extremes.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Shuttle Bay, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

“Damn...” The Ikiya’Ta man notes as he scans the stickers and waits for a report on the age of the thing.

“Something up?” His fellow scientist asks.

“I recognize the sticker. I’ve been to Tenthalus. I nearly stayed there permanently.” He notes.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. It’s one of those worlds with a very predictable but funky orbital path. Basically the way the thing moves their year has eight very short seasons, it moves closer and further from it’s star during it, but is moving fast so we get a burst of a two month winter, then a one month spring, two month summer, one month autumn then another two month winter, the pattern repeats world wide the year over because it’s all based on the star itself and the proximity to it. The planet actually spends two thirds of the year in the danger zone in it’s system that would normally say it’s going to be inhospitable, but it has a full third in the green zone and since it’s going from one extreme to another it’s very much a world of rapid movements and everything changing up.”

“An orbit like that likely played havoc with the rotational force of the planet and the air currents.”

“It’s mostly an oceanic planet, sixty five percent water. So all the continents see a lot of rain during the year, or rather rain and snow.”

“That’s good. Better than this hunk of junk.”

“What?” The Ikiya scientist asks his Pavorous fellow.

“This is a Mark Thirty Three Direct Dare Shuttle. They are known for two things. Indestructibility and just how hideous they are!”

“Really?”

“Have you read the official adds for these monsters? Would you like me to read one out?”

“Not particularly no.”

“Well too bad because you need to hear this.” The Scientist states.

“Jaune...” The Ikiya mutters. As the Pavorous man brings up a communicator and begins reading things out before clearing his throat.

“Verdis, The Mark Thirty Three Direct Dare Shuttle is a ship that will never let you down and never get you complimented. Customers with a more engineering mindset will note that the rounded edges and random bulges along the vessel are at just the right angles to disperse impact, more appearance focused individuals will note that if they were painted the bulges an appropriate colour you could convince a child that your shuttle has boils.”

“I get it.” Verdis says.

“The engine of the Mark Thirty Three is perhaps one of the most resilient things to exist, ranking only a little bit above entropy itself as a concept but below taxes and government incompetence.”

“Is that really in the ad?” Verdis asks and Jaune holds out his communicator for him to read. “This engine can be extracted from the vehicle and have feral Gohbs strip half the parts from it before leaving behind only the most worthless and hideous parts before magnetically adhering it to the outside of the hull. The ship will still be fully flight capable and will in fact not suffer any form of performance loss and may in fact work even better than before. All check engine and emergency alarms are entirely to get this ship past the safety inspection board and are in truth quite useless as every single problem this ship encounters is entirely ignorable and the problem will, for the first time in your life, go away on it’s own.”

Verdis hand the communicator back to Jaune with a baffled expression on his face and Jaune grins before clearing his throat to continue the reading.

“The Mark Thirty Three also has another great benefit to the prospective buyer. The ship is so outright ugly and looks so cheap that there is a near zero chance that any pirate would actually attack a ship of this calibre but there is in fact no capacity for them to actually damage a ship of this calibre.”

“It keeps going?” Verdis asks.

“Just a little more.” Jaune says with a smirk. “Now, many will wonder why a shuttle this tough and capable is not being afforded an FTL drive. It’s because this ship is so damn ugly that it needs to be contained. Systems slow down at the mere approach of this ugly monster and it is in fact illegal to be this hideous in a large percentile of civilized space, so these ships are being contained to the systems where they can be legally sold so they can also be legally flown. Much to the regret of anyone with working eyes in the same system.”

“The ship’s not that ugly. I mean... it’s about as elegant as a brick to the face. But it’s not that bad.”

“Nor is it that tough, but the ad really sells it doesn’t it?” Jaune asks and Verdis shrugs.

“I guess.” Jaune says blandly. “The more interesting thing about this thing is more about how it got here though.”

“Well, no one would steal a ship renowned for being ugly, and no one would attack a ship known to be indestructible. So the reputation might have contributed.”

“Might is putting a lot of work in in that sentence.”

First Last

First

Home at War

“Thank you all for coming. We have an interesting problem mixed with opportunity and I would like everyone’s insight on how to proceed.” Harold says as the meeting officially comes underway. The meeting room was a simple table with comfortable chairs based on species for himself, Lieutenant Orchid, every captain and second in command across the Fleet and the wall behind Harold had Admiral Cistern openly watching on an active screen. Herbert was ‘attending’ to him and a business woman that was sitting back and to his left. “Now, we also have some guests because these events include them and there have been numerous Non-Disclosure agreements asked. The video and audio is being transferred via direct Protn link and cannot be intercepted. Lieutenant Orchid, you may open the proceedings.”

“Thank you Commodore.” Lieutenant Orchid says rising even as Harold sits. “Now then for the sake of complete clarity and transparency, we are within the Kaploosha Ornak System, on the third world of this system we have discovered, and successfully disabled a pirate base, within which we found the missing Type Zero M.A.R.E, otherwise known as the missing prototype. It’s presence is why a board member of The Endurance, Shell and Shield Conglomeration is also present.”

The woman behind Admiral Cistern nods even as Herbert holds out a fine china saucer with a cup of tea on it. She takes it with a smile at the adorable little spy.

“During our salvage of the base while leaving the weapon untouched, we detected an incoming potential attack and moved our fleet out to a safe distance of ten light minutes from the world and placed the fleet in a stealth based stance. Just five hours ago, we received the answer as to the form of the attack when an SP-5 Megafauna containment and transport vessel covered in stealth panelling arrived in system and deliberately through a holographic image of the fleet’s vessels and into the pirate fortress, shattering both it and the Type Zero simultaneously.”

“Can you confirm the destruction of the weapon?” The Board Member asks.

“We can, we have the sensor readout and video of the destruction.”

“I see, we will require some pieces of the destroyed device to fully confirm it’s destruction.” She says.

“Of course, but we’re not quite finished. The crashing vessel is just the first step. The second is what was inside it.” Orchid says and then taps a few buttons on the table. The centre splits and a projector lifts out to then broadcast the image of a hexepedal crustacean with three inter-spaced faces and a diamond shell. “This is a Diamond Claw, a powerful megafauna that is regarded as a fairly dangerous hunting target. Not quite on the level of some other types as it’s actually fairly small as most Megafauna go, but the sheer defensive ability of the shell coupled with it’s ambush hunting style makes it a deadly threat. At their standard size they are generally considered somewhat small in the field of megafauna and weigh in at an average of five thousand and five hundred kilograms. That said the average Diamond Claw is still an active threat to anything in it’s territory, including power armour bedecked individuals and even vehicles. There are numerous cases per year were someone gets careless in their submersibles around these things and these immensely strong and nearly indestructible monsters go right through the hull and treat these luckless souls like snacks.”

“This specimen is one hundred times the size in every dimension.” Harold states and Orchid nods as he taps the next button to show the image of the Diamond Claw zooming out and the absolutely towering form of the monster on the remains of the pirate base beside it.

“Yes. Which puts it’s estimated weight at over five billion and five hundred million kilograms. This is without considering it’s clear mutations and the Haffara Thar problem.”

“That’s enough mass to be considered in tonnages. The notation used for fleets.” The Board Member says in an awed tone.

“It gets worse.” Orchid says. “The creature has been modified in such a manner that it produces starship grade lasers from it’s claws. For those who are not familiar with this creature, the Diamond Claw is capable of lifting any of it’s six legs and opening the tip to use as an enormous claw.”

The image of the Diamond Claw lifts one leg and the end splits to reveal itself as a claw. Then a laser erupts from it. “We have maintained a safe distance of five light minutes from the creature to make sure it can’t actually hit anything at that range.”

“Which leads into the next issue.” Harold says. “It’s taking potshots at us. We’re light minutes away from this monster and it can sense us. It’s actively hostile.”

“Which leads to the Haffara Thar issue, the parasite is keeping the host alive. It should have asphyxiated as it is not only an aquatic creature, but it’s not even in atmosphere, let alone oxygenated water! It should be starving causing it’s shell to be weakened by the lack of nutrients. The lack of appropriate pressure on the shell of the creature should have caused it’s internals organs to rupture, the lack of a protective atmosphere means the radiation from the star should be cooking the creature! The lack of heat should have frozen it where it’s not burning, but none of these things have happened. We used combat capable drones to cut off one of it’s legs. It simply shoved the stumps back together and reattached the limb. Diamond Claws are not normally capable of such things.”

“Which brings us to the final issue of the creature. It is far, far too observant.” Harold states and Orchid nods as he sits down and grabs a bottle of water to sip from. Harold rises at this point. “During the first hour of the creature’s arrival in system I took the liberty of performing reconnaissance around it. My natural gifts and personal training meant I was able to cloak myself and my vehicle to such a degree that even the most scrupulous tests and thorough scans of our own ships could not sense me even when I was directly in front of the sensors. And while I was able to confirm that the creature is indeed infected by what can only be Haffara Thar, we also learned that the creature has not only preternatural senses and was able to somehow detect me, but despite my near microscopic size by compare it still considered me either an active threat or a potential meal as it attempted to capture me. This occurred while I was using three differing layers of stealth technique and was out of it’s line of sight. It had no known method of sensing me, but was not only aware of my presence, but patient enough to move in such a manner as to not startle me. Thankfully I am very aware and triggered a recall teleport in time to escape it’s grasp.”

“How big a vehicle were you using?”

“I was using what we’ve started to call a Glass Shard Bike. It’s a void capable Airbike that completely erases it’s presence from all form of scanning technology we’re aware of and is designed to piggyback off of any stealth techniques the rider uses. I used three of them simultaneously.” Harold explains. “So, that’s where we are. We have a functionally impossible to kill crustacean sitting on the ruins of the remains of that pirate fortress and the Type Zero. It’s actively hostile, but as far as we’re unaware to follow us. But, it was sent here by the enemy, meaning they can move it. So what do we do about it?”

“I take it the normal hunting methods for these monsters is out of the question?” The Board Woman asks and Harold nods.

“That’s already been done for us. These things are deep water, high pressure life forms. The easiest way to kill one is to attach something to the top of it’s shell that floats it up into shallower water. It’s internal organs rupture and the shell cracks open through the faces as all it’s organs leave in short order. Fairly gruesome, but some ranchers use it as a method to harvest the shell for sale. It’s often used in crystal carving art, particularly as incorporated bases to larger pieces. The ten part set of The Faceless Dancers as displayed in the entrance hall of the council building all use Diamond Claw shells for the base of each statue.”

“So it’s very much immune to standard attack. Okay, that’s a very big point in favour of just leaving it in system and continuing on our way. Yes, it’s still sitting on a lot of resources, but shifting it is not going to be easy.” One captain says and the woman next to her shakes her head.

“There’s also the fact that a weapon of this scale, that is willing to attack targets so much smaller than itself is exactly the kind of thing that will cripple a populated world. This monster on any kind of populated planet will destroy the cities, shatter it’s guard and devour it’s population. The enemy clearly has them and is willing to use them. And we now have a chance to disarm one.”

“”That’s if this isn’t their whole plan. A nigh unkillable monster thrown at the fleet commanded by a bloodthirsty Commodore who was cloned from a Huntsman and Patriarch? That’s a perfect distraction. No offence sir.”

“None taken, the thought had crossed my mind as well. There’s also the argument that the creature is borderline a captive and we could use it to experiment on methods to kill Haffara Thar. We know the things are being used and will make actually putting down our enemies an absolute pain in the ass. But now we have a chance to figure out the exact steps we need to take to put one down and keep them down, and they’re so big that we’ll catch every little errant twitch and bit of information on the wide screen without needing to zoom in.”

“There’s also the fact that it’s sitting on the remains of our prototype.” The Board Woman says. “The more proof you can give me and the faster I can get the reward for your hard work to you. To say nothing of the fact that diamonds that massive that are naturally forming would make a very big payday. Which I can only imagine would help with your war effort.”

“What about the laser components, we have six biological battleship grade lasers on that monster. I’d love to study those things.” The head Scientist of The RAD notes.

“While a good point we need to think about timing. Every job is a balancing act and one of the biggest concerns is often time. We have a schedule to keep and I can’t think of anything that would waste more time than hammering away at something that’s both indestructible and immortal.” The head Engineer of The RAM says.

“But there could be more of them too!” Herbert offers. “Think about it. If they can make one they can make more and if you don’t bother figuring out how to kill one then running into two or three might be an unsolvable problem.”

“Which is a very good point.” Harold says. “While there are indeed concerns about wasting time or being distracted, the fact of the matter is we have been attacked. If we do not deal with the payload here and now it will potentially be used again. If we do not take the time to understand how to handle these payloads then encountering it again, or more of them, will be an immense issue. Furthermore it is effectively sitting on an enormous amount of resources. Does anyone have further concerns or reasons why we should not deal with this threat here and now?”

“What if they’re studying this? Using an indestructible target to watch how we respond to things in order to better prepare for our own forces? A small, stealth camera just outside the system won’t give a second by second replay of our actions on a live view, but it will be able to observe us and we will not be able to find it unless we crash a ship into such a thing.”

“They also know where we are and remain hostile. This thing is just the beginning, and as interesting as it is, doing the equivalent of freezing during a firefight or sticking your head out of cover to see what kind of weapon they’re using is insanity and going to get us killed.”

“Both very good points.” Harold notes as he considers. Thinks. Then nods. “Okay, I think I have an idea. It’s going to be a little unusual, and likely risky, but it should work.”

“Which is?”

“At the edge of the system we set up a single small outpost. Disposable. We use the forests to teleport equipment into the edge of the system and...” Harold cuts himself off as he sees Jacob’s feathers start to puff out. “Are the forests not willing to be part of this?”

“The Dark Forest’s newly developed distaste for the Haffara Thar is being shared by the other forests, including mine. I’m not comfortable or happy knowing I’m in the same system as that monster, but knowing I have others with me is a relief, but the thought of leaving an outpost of Forest matter with less guard because we have to move on? The forests won’t go for it.”

“Fine. Then in that case we’ll put a time limit on things. Admiral Cistern Sir, can you send some ships with scientific crew to this system? We will attempt experimentation upon the monster to try and kill it until they get here, but if we cannot drop it before they arrive they will pick off where we leave off as we will then depart the system and continue on our way. Is this acceptable sir?”

“It is. I will begin the process of assigning soldiers and ships.” Admiral Cistern assures him.

“Thank you sir.” Harold says before looking down to all the captains of his fleet. “Well then ladies and gentlemen, we have a giant crab to crack.”

First Last

First

Home at War

It’s a flicker in the stars when it’s first detected. It is tested again by a well placed drone, then again. A ship is on approach.

“Son of a bitch. I was starting to doubt.” Harold notes as the report comes in.

“You were?” Orchid asks.

“Unless you’re in a situation where you have no time for doubt, then you should always think twice at least. We all make mistakes, even the people worshipped as gods make mistakes. Certainty can kill, and I will not kill my own people.” Harold says.

“... You know you really give mixed messages sometimes.” Orchid notes.

“What?”

“You’ve admitted you don’t like command but you’re basically trying to be the perfect officer.”

“Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you half ass it like a child told to clean their room.” Harold notes. “Can we get any kind of estimate on the ship’s construction?”

“Well, we have it’s basic silhouette. It’s a very rounded vessel, made with aesthetics very similar to many aquatic species, but also useful in scrambling sensor readings slightly. Not by much, but coupled with stealth panels and it’s solid.”

“Looks like a bullet with swooping wings.”

“It likely is.” Orchid remarks. “I think I’ve seen that before give me a moment.”

He quickly searches through a few parts of the ship’s archives and then pauses. “Here. What the? This is... this can’t be right.”

Harold leans over and starts reading off the entry out loud.

“An SP-5 Megafauna containment and transport vessel. Designed for the safe removal of endangered Megafauna. Said to be very popular with poachers the galaxy over. Why is this so unbelievable Lieutenant?”

“Because with the way these ships are made... they’re no good for combat. Unless this thing has far more than just the stealth panelling then it’s just a giant target.”

“But it’s designed to deliver large, potentially aggressive payloads to a location. So if you have a really big bomb, then it’s perfect.”

“Not so much. The structural integrity is focused inwards to contain whatever beast is inside. So even if it has a nuclear bomb in there, then the sheer design of the hull will stop it from being anything other than a curiosity.”

“So what you’re telling me is that there’s something we’re not seeing here.”

“Or they made a stupid mistake.”

“Always possible, but relying on it is just asking to be caught off guard.” Harold says. He then sends some orders to the fleet to have their shields on standby just in case, but to do nothing to give away their actual positions.

The ship slowly approaches the system over a course of four hours and then suddenly accelerates and slams into the inner system dust with enough force that there are powerful plumes of thermal energy from the impacts. The camouflage of the fleet is compromise as the space dust slams into them and starts outlining all of them even as the very few remaining scraps of the pirate fortress and the projectors of the fake Ambush Fleet are all destroyed in a single instant.

The dust on the moon is blasted off it and a huge plume of the fine material is now half suspended, half falling through the borderline non-existent atmosphere and gravity. The few chunks of actual stations fall through the dust faster and carve out trenches through the obscuring cloud.

“Well that just fucking happened.” Orchid notes as he checks the systems. It’s a good thing we had a few ships grabbing the more metallic dust out of the system with magnetic fields. Otherwise the dust storm covering all our ships would be substantially thicker.

“It’s not over.” Harold says.

“What?”

“Scanners aren’t picking up anything through the dust sir.” A bridge officer answers.

“There is something alive in that dust.” Harold asserts.

“Too much of it is still in the atmosphere to tell sir.”

“Give it a full course, centre of the plume. No! Closer to the star from the centre of the plume, by four kilometres.” Harold amends his order and the Lagos Brothers open fire. A single salvo from every weapon on The Inconceivable.

Lasers lance down and burn through the dust before bouncing out in numerous directions. The kinetic rounds hit next and the impact drives whatever they’ve just lit up into the ground and scatters the dust away.

Then the plasma impacts and the remaining dust is burnt away to slag atop the carapace of some strange hexepedal creature.

“... That thing is way, way too big for it’s species.” Harold notes.

“What is it?” Orchid asks.

“The Diamond Claws are deadly and relentless predators from the frozen world of Hathan. They’re a powerful hunting prize... and usually only a tenth that size in any direction.”

“That thing is bigger than this ship.” Orchid says going over the readouts.

“It’s carapace is diamond coated, a defence against it’s prey which use organic lasers to carve the rapidly growing coral of the cold world into bite sized chunks. It is essentially a crab with three faces. One brain controls them all and all of it’s legs can lift up to form razor sharp pincers that are normally large enough to chop an aircar in a single snip and they have more than enough force to do it.” Harold lists out.

“Okay it’s scary but ungainly. What’s going on here?” Orchid asks before suddenly the Diamond Claw raises a pincer and a lance of light flashes through the system. “... Are lasers common on Diamond Claws?”

“No known mutation has it.” Harold answers as he rises up.

“Zoom in on that thing.” He says as he clasps his hands behind his back and considers. His eyes scan the massive form of the monster and his right eyebrow climbs upwards. “No major markings despite it’s clear augmentations. This is someone’s masterwork, or we’re missing part of the puzzle. I’m inclined to believe the latter.”

“So what do we do?”

“We pick up the piece. After pacifying it of course.” Harold notes.

“Okay. How? We just hit it with a powerful enough bombardment that this very ship could not withstand taking all of it, and it’s not even injured. Possibly not even annoyed.” Orchid asks.

“Everything has weaknesses. In our case we hit it on it’s strongest face. We need to get it from below and to the side. That’s where all it’s joints are and where it’s faces are. In other words, where all the gaps in it’s armour live.”

“How is it breathing?”

“Excellent question. Hive Carrier Four, Three drones, as low to the ground as you can, see if you can’t dissect a leg of the monster. Maintain safe distance and camouflage screening from the monster.” Harold commands.

“Copy that sir, engaging target.”

“Sound tactics, but I have a bad feeling.” Orchid says.

“So do I. It’s why I’m sending in drones.” Harold replies.

The whole fleet watches as the Hive Carrier displaces and releases the trinity of drones. They’re tiny compared to the creature, so small that it does not register them being there until the drones suddenly activate their lasers at the joint of the leg and it suddenly slashes out. But the laser burns through and the leg begins to fall away.

The monster then shoves the stump of it’s leg into the stump of the cut away limb even as it bathes the immediate area in laser fire. The drones fly away fast and low and dipping in erratic patterns to dodge the white lasers.

The Diamond Claw gives pursuit, with all six of it’s legs. It was hurt, but not harmed.

“It reattached the limb?” Harold asks before thinking. Then his eyes widen. “I need a closer look at the thing, and not through equipment.”

“Sir to get that close to it would put you in easy range of it’s laser, and at this magnitude that thing is going to overwhelm the Undaunted Brand more or less instantly.”

“And that’s why I’m going in so hard to see that God’s gonna lose track of me.” Harold notes.

“Sir?”

“You have the bridge Lieutenant Orchid, inform the fleet that they are not to open fire upon the Diamond Claw, I am taking a closer look to determine exactly what is going on with this creature.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (The Void, Above the Third World, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

The stars do not flicker, but they dim ever so slightly as something is in motion. There is no sound in the void and no smell either.

A tiny stirring of dust from the unliving world shows that the something is approaching. Another is stirred up before there is suddenly a burst.

“What the FUCK!?” Harold’s voice rings through all comms. Loud and clear and incredulous. “What the actual fuck is that?!”

“Sir!? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine it’s just... The thing is just above the horizon line and even at this distance there’s something seriously messed up here.”

“What do you see?”

“Crawling Inversion? Sated Insatiability. Death devouring life devouring death devouring life. It’s a knot of concepts and things in the Od. I’ve never even imagined anything like this before and can’t really explain it. I don’t have the words to put it into proper context. At least not in one language. But I don’t think smashing together the terms that equate to disease, life, consumption, death, living and healing into one big piece of nonsense will help.”

“Haffara Thar?” Orchid asks.

“Maybe. If it is then I understand that death cultist over Skathac much better now. They still took it too far, but I can see how something like this would leave trauma in it’s wake.” Harold says. “Okay, going in for a better look. I’m over the initial shock.”

“Is that wise?”

“We need information, and I’m going to moving a lot more carefully.” He says there are no further disruptions beyond the remains of the pirate fortress raining down and the movements of the Diamond Claw.

Minutes pass.

“Okay, holy fuck... I’m right next to the creature, just above it’s sight line and a little to the side, just over the shell really. All the concepts of... everything are tied into some... things. I think this is a Haffara Thar situation. We have something coiled inside the creature and smaller versions of it in tiny dots. I suspect eggs.” Harold explains over the comms.

“But you can see it? Clear through the creature?”

“Very distinct Ode pattern within the Ode of the Diamond Claw. I’ve compared it to white light before, this however is... well not black. Grey maybe?”

“Have you seen black?”

“Hollow Daughters.” Harold answers.

“... You failed to inform me you’ve stared death full in the eyes.”

“She didn’t have eyes.”

“Point stands.”

“Nothing came of it beyond a mildly pleasant conversation that led to more questions than answers. Both I and Herbert have written full reports on it and if you request the information you’ll get everything.”

“But she was black to the white of most people or the grey of the Haffara Thar?”

“I didn’t think of it at the time but her eyes were completely black in both The Od and in the physical world. Again, didn’t think it was odd as it was the fist time I’ve seen a Hollow Daughter period, so I don’t exactly have a baseline to compare it on and... whoa...”

He veers away from the Diamond Claw as it stirs. Then turns to see that it’s slowly, very, very slowly raising a claw. The intent is clear. It’s sussed him out and wants to eat.

“Heading back to the ship. It’s sensed me.” He says as he pours Axiom into a totem and then the claw speeds up to snap. But strikes nothingness as he’s already gone.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Tertiary Small Vehicle Bay, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

There is a whump of air suddenly rushing in around a void as the teleport panel with mini pylons glows. Then suddenly Harold is there sitting on top of a night black vehicle made of glistening Vishanyan Stealth Plates. He powers it down and then lets go of the handlebars and steps off. He pulls off a pair of goggles and unwrapps the reinforced scarf from around his head. He shakes the sheer amount of space dust caking it off and starts brushing himself off, piles of tiny particles fall to the floor.

The vehicle has massive swooping streaks along the side and numerous large spikes heading off the back. They add to the stealth by working as totems to mimic any stealth technique used on them and with a bit of work, they could partially carry Ode based stealth as well. Partially. Still, a little bit of Jameson Stealth under Vishanyan and Cloaken Stealth worked wonders.

“Stealth space motorcycle. I’d give it a Harley roar, but that would defeat the hell out of the point. Heh.”

“Sir, creature’s pissed.” Orchid reports.

“Good to know it throws fits when denied a snack.” Harold muses out loud. “But how the hell did it find me? I was out of it’s line of sight and had three layers of invisibility on, no sound was transferring and that also means smelling or feeling my presence was also out of the question. Sure as hell wasn’t tasting me. And I didn’t see any reaction from the Haffara Thar.”

“Through the Axiom maybe? You’ve got a pretty distinct presence with how much pours off you at any given moment.”

“If that was it, then it would have reacted sooner. Not to mention Diamond Claws are not known for their Axiom sensing abilities. They’re visual hunters, they track their prey as they carve up the coral of their homeworld.”

“So how?”

“Something to dissect out if it’s corpse when we kill it. It just cost us a payday after all. The impact of the damn creature just destroyed the remains of the Type Zero. I don’t think we’re going to get the licenses I was hoping to help the front with now.”

“Well maybe just confirmation it’s been destroyed and cannot be used in a way that will lead back to them will be enough?” Orchid asks.

“Let’s hope.” Harold notes as the door to the Vehicle Bay opens. Rain rushes in.

“So it works? That crazy bike works?”

“It did! Felt like flying through a rainstorm though, the dust is not kind on the face. Or anything else. Even through the protection.”

“Could have been worse.” Rain says.

“You’re right, we might not have pulled the trytite out of the system’s dust and those little fuckers would have hit like bullets at the speed I was going.”

“There’s a reason most vehicles have something in the front window and not just pure contempt for physics and their own health.”

“Contempt is the wind beneath my wings.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re right, it just sounded like the thing to say.”

“How are you in charge again?”

“Good looks?” He asks with a shrug.

First Last

First

Home at War

“Enter.” Harold says as he’s going over the details on current estimates on his data-pad. He puts it down as the Great Plains Nagasha Priestess/Captain enters the room. Before rising up to shake her hand. “Captain, thank you coming to see me. It’s best that we keep potential disagreements off the channels and settle issues like adults.”

“... You’ve misunderstood the situation Lord Saint.” Captain Legard notes.

“I see, well hopefully we can clear that up, and Lord Saint now? Have I done something to earn more respect or must simply pay more attention to things?”

“You probably should embrace more of the Primal in either capacity.” Captain Legard notes with a slight smile. “And I’m not here about a disagreement, I’m here because we’re trying to understand more about not only yourself as a mighty Saint, but the blessings of The Lady of War.”

“Oh? Alright, what prompted this?”

“The range you have on the danger sense. Lady Thassalia’s blessing, while only occasionally given out, creates nearly unkillable warriors. So the range of the danger sense is well understood. And you have surpassed it, not only surpassed it, but done so by a margin that can only really be understood in scientific notation. I don’t doubt that you sense danger coming. But the sheer range of your senses is... extreme.”

“Less so when you think about it.” Harold says as he reaches his chair again. He then presses a button on the underside of the desk near the seat and a wall panel opens wide. “A moment please.”

He then switches out the normal chair in front of his desk for a large couch comfortable for a Nagasha. “Please, sit.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Being respectful to those under one’s command is important, it encourages the respect in both directions, and while I understand that for religious reasons I have a great deal of respect from you and yours. I would like to have that respect for personal reasons as well.” He says.

“Remarkable...” She mutters to herself as she coils up comfortably on the couch. He sits opposite of her and smiles.

“Now, as to how my range on the danger sense has grown so extreme, it’s something I’ve been slowly growing into more and more. Essentially, it comes down to my enhanced eyes.”

“From my understanding you’ve touched the power of the Primals deeply as all the Saints have. While Saint Bluelaser and Blackstaff have spent a much longer time on Holy Lakran, you spent time there as well, and received your blessing there. Saint Bluelaser was attacked by a terrible shadow demon and left in a state neither dead nor alive before Lord Skitterway saved her. And Saint Blackstaff died a millennia ago while trapped in stasis and was fully revived by Lord Skitterway as well. But you have never needed saving. Instead you have lived in power, dealing with Primals as equals and somehow gaining a sliver of their blessings. Blessings you wear upon your face as some form of prelude to the inevitable coming of the eventual human Primal.”

“That’s part of it. I actually changed as part of a massive Axiom Spell that involved the Living Forests in Apuk Space AND Primal Assistance from Emmanuel and those with him. In essence we had Herbert channel power from the forests and indeed Emmanuel through me so I could cast a massive Axiom effect. The end result was the awakening of an entire Nebula into a single massive conscious entity. Creating the Astral Forest.”

“A literal miracle.”

“A mistake. I was hoping to revive the flammable gasses that the cult we were embattled with worshipped in order to both confuse them and make them far more reluctant to fire. Instead I accidentally helped the Living Forests to reproduce again. It ended well. But at the same time, it was close. However, that much power being channelled has side effects. A lot of them. The creation of a Living Forest, and the modification of every Jameson alive. Likely those in Cruel Space as well.”

“I see...”

“I’m not sure you do. You see, the power of the primals comes from what we Undaunted call the Other Diretion, or the Od in short form. Granted we only know about this because one of our own became Primal. What do you know of Other Direction Energy, or Ode as we’ve taken to calling it?”

“Information on it has been scarce on the ground and difficult to parse from a religious standpoint even if it seems fairly straightforward in a scientific direction. Granted the straightforwardness is due to the admission that very little is actually understood about Ode or the Od. I know it is an energy source like Axiom, but also has it’s own locations within it but has neither direction nor distance as we understand it.”

“No no, it has direction, but neither distance nor time. Which is really confusing.” Harold corrects. “Anyways, I can see into it. But I can’t really process what I’m seeing, so the most I generally see is a flicker of movement from something that lives in the Od, mostly harmless, but beyond the fact that everyone has a touch of Ode and it casts a bit of light, the trick to my danger sense lies there. In the gaps and considerations.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve established that distance is more a vocabulary word in the Od. And I can see into the Od. And all living things have some presence in the Od. But generally that translates only to me seeing you give off some light of your own. Which is easily overwhelmed by the standard lights in this room, but if the lights were turned off I would not only be able to see you, but see my immediate area due to the light I myself give off.”

“So... are you implying that you’re potentially...”

“Looking purely into the Od is just an endless white landscape with no down, up, left, right or anything. Just pure white. I think that light is the light of a person’s soul. Everyone’s soul. So much of it I can’t see anything through it. But...”

“But?”

“I’m getting something out of it. Just enough information out of the endless ocean of information I can’t actually understand to know two things. If there is a threat and what direction it is in.”

“And since this information is coming from the realm of the gods, distance does not matter.” She muses. “Distance does not matter... hmm... Lord Saint, there has been discussion among the Philosophers and Priests of the Primal Faith that I am wondering if you can quell.”

“I can certainly try. I assume it relates to the nature of the Od and how one can fit in both everything and nothing within it?”

“That’s exactly the point. The Spiritual Realm, Realm of the Gods, Other Direction, Afterlife or what ever one wishes to call it does not function under the same theories and principals of Baryonic Matter, Non-Baryonic Matter or Axiom Based Matter. Effectively creating a fourth type of matter to consider that like the previous three categories is not simply the other forms of matter with a new name, but it’s own unique resource.”

“Correct, although I would argue it’s more likely it’s always been there and influencing and being influenced by the other three forms of matter, we’ve just failed to truly detect it in any truly appreciable amount until recently.”

“You’ve brought up another point that is often debated through our circles, however the one I wish to ask about is about distance and space.” She says and he nods. She then holds up her hand with finger and thumb perhaps an inch apart. “The Od as you call it, could it fit between my finger and thumb?”

“Not from my experience.” Harold answers and she looks surprised. “Think of it like this. The Od is... Well I haven’t seen all of it, but I assume it’s at least as large as the galaxy, maybe the whole universe. But at the same time, every part of it is everywhere and nowhere. It really, really doesn’t work like normal space or matter as we understand it. There is no separation, but it clearly functions in different ways for different people. I don’t know how best to explain this...”

“Try.”

“Okay, when I helped Miss Greatpincer ascend, I physically pulled her into the Od and threw her into the place beyond. Where the most power was felt. She came back a goddess. Now, where I was then, in our universe, was in the Skathac system. In orbit over the world. We are nowhere near that world or system. However, where I was in the Od, and where I am now in the Od, has not changed.”

“Is it?” She asks.

“It is.” He says and she stares at him.

“That does not make sense.”

“It does not. Therefore the sense it makes is not one that my current experiences can actually apply to it. Therefore I need a new framework. But I don’t have one yet. When it comes to understanding the Od and the Ode, we are all as newborn babies. We need to absorb a great deal more, experience a great deal more and live a great deal more in it to even begin to make sense of things. Let alone categorize or even truly compare them to the natural laws and physics of the other forms of the universe.” Harold says and there is a look of awe slowly forming on her face.

“Divinely empowered, blessed with holy strength and humility. You embody your title Lord Saint.”

“... No one can actually improve if they don’t ever look at themselves honestly.” Harold says. “And the idea of self betterment was one of the first I truly latched onto.”

“The philosophy of The Undaunted.

“Yes. I fully and completely support it, and try to live it as well.” He says before gesturing to the corner of the room. “Use your Thermal Senses on the equipment over there. I was using Text to Speech programs to read out the reports to me shortly before you arrived for the meeting, I like to work out and strengthen my body as I perform my duties.

Captain Legard adjusts the collar on her clothing to expose more sensory pits as she turns to the series of adjustable weights and basic rack in the corner. She can sense where he had been sitting and hints of heat still lingering on the equipment, but only just. The meeting has been running a little long.”

“Don’t you humans sweat? I haven’t smelt anything.”

“The air circulation in this ship is very powerful and silenced so it doesn’t interfere with day to day activities. Humans are going to be a big part of this ship now and in it’s future and we have pheromone issues that will distract.”

“Really?”

“This ship is also going to have some civilians on once we’re past the war. Or we could take on refugees and need to move out. So the whole place is designed with that in mind. Not to mention the human population is ballooning like crazy, so human built ships need to have some accommodations for the difficulties we bring to the table.” Harold explains to her “Now...”

He pauses and there’s a gap. “The threat just wavered. Angling ever so slightly but still coming this way.”

“How far is it?”

“I don’t know. I just know it’s approaching, it’s coming for us and it just changed vectors ever so slightly. But it’s still coming here.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“We’re the Ambush Fleet. We’re going to Ambush it. I’ve already instructed The RAM to start pumping out signal bafflers and stealth plating. We’re going to make them think we’re elsewhere in the system and get our enemy to expose themselves. Then we open fire from an unexpected direction. Simple and clean, and since we know what direction they’re coming from, we can disguise ourselves well.” Harold offers. “Still... why did they waver? Is something else joining it? I only know it as a threat on approach and the direction. Nothing else.”

He sighs and rubs his hair a little. Then smooths it. “I hate the waiting. And ordering others to do jobs I’d rather do myself. I don’t think I’ll be doing this twice. I’d have been far happier just being sent to the front and told where they want the enemy to be forced out of.”

“You don’t like leading?”

“It’s not that. It’s the feeling of entropy. As if death will come for me if I’m not fighting to live. And leadership leads to a lot of waiting, a lot of just stewing on that feeling even as you organize things.”

“You’re doing very well.”

“That’s because I have so much energy to dedicate to my tasks.”

“Energy you’d rather be spending in a more wholesale manner?”

“Somewhat.”

“Is this a very polite way of trying to force me out so you can go back to exercising without feeling rude?”

“... Yes.”

“Just get back to working out. I won’t take offence.” She says. “And frankly anyone who would take offence is a fool. You’re clearly paying attention, but just so enormously kinesthetic that you do better work while in motion.”

“Thank you.” He says as he stands up from his desk and quickly shucks the jacket of his uniform. He’s at the bench in a few short strides and picks up a heavy weight that uses Axiom to make it even harder to lift and move. He sits comfortably and starts absently curling the weight. “Now, since I’ll be able to think a little better, I was hoping we could discuss a bit in the way of mixed training. The boarding actions of you and your fellows weren’t quite up to the standard I was hoping for and I would dearly like to avoid possible injuries or fatalities in the future. Firstly though, we need to discuss why some of your forces neglected to take the proper armour into the field...”

First Last

First

Home at War

“...so there’s the crazy girl trying to seduce a person who’s barely past the point where he’s even considered a species beyond his own in his life and is so insistent in shoving not only her rear but her tail, which I should remind you his species does not have, and then cries conspiracy when the poor man, who is not accustomed to her species at all, does not have the desired reaction.” Herbert explains and Doctor Redhoof sighs dramatically at the tale of one of his own people running into The Undaunted.

“It’s a weakness of my species. We obsess. It makes us masters at whatever craft we care to put our minds to, but it can easily lead us into spirals and absurdity.” Doctor Redhoof says with a sigh.

“That and the extremely on the nose names for things...” Harold teases.

“It’s cultural. The clearer something is named the more clearly it can be communicated. It’s simple logic. But it leads to things like me. I have crimson hued keratin which is mildly rare. So of course I was named after it. It could have been about my coat, hooves or horn, or even about how my green eyes contrast it, but no. We like the obvious. Or at least my culture does.” Doctor Redhoof notes.

“Better than the line of sight names or inheritable names from the other cultures. Not that humans have much room to talk when it comes to inheritable names. We use that too much.” Herbert says. “Still, how do we feel now?”

“Better, but what happens next?”

“We’re going to get you home, but there is something that you need to know about.” Harold says.

“What’s that?”

“We recovered one of your ships. It’s what led us to figuring out you were you so quickly. It’s intact, but the pirates were doing... what I can only assume to be unholy things in there. The chemical scans we’ve gotten out of it suggests that the inhabitants either had some kind of strange ritual thing going on, or didn’t know the difference between general rooms, toilets and morgues.”

“Oh... that’s awful.”

“Right, well that’s also not the point. The ship is still legally yours and registered to the Trade Fleets of your mother’s company. And as the highest ranking member of the crew recovered, you’re captain by default even if you were owners representative and accountant of the fleet.” Harold says.

“Oh... which ship?”

“The Fruit Flower.” He answers and she blinks. Considers and then her face lights up a little before falling.

“My ship. And they’ve done THINGS on it?”

“They’ve done something dirty on it. We’re cleaning it out with low grade lasers and venting the smoke into the void.” He answers.

“That’ll clean it.” She notes. Then thinks. “Hmm... I’m not sure what to do with it.”

“Well it’s yours, so whatever you want.” Harold says. “But I bring it up for another reason. You just confirmed you spent a lot of time on that ship, or was reading too much into things?”

“No, I had my quarters and office on that ship. Granted it was basically a double sized room with a door in the middle, but the point stands.”

“Right, did you have any place where you stashed something? Because if you did and it was stashed well enough, it might still be there.” Harold offers and she thinks.

Doctor Redhoof gives Harold an impressed look at that. Harold winks and the psychiatrist nods with a smirk.

“There might be! I uh... if it’s still there, then... uh... Can you promise no one will read it?”

“A dataslate?” Harold asks.

“A diary. Pen and paper. Hidden in a little divot in the air ducts leading into my office.” She confesses.

“Why would you need that?” Herbert asks.

“I think... yes, it’s where I put the less flattering observations and thoughts about things. We all have them and I dealt with them by writing them down and making up nasty little stories. But it was all handwritten so it wouldn’t be hacked and become a scandal.”

“Of course. Although if it’s extra juicy then me and Herbert here are all for it. We are spy guys after all!”

“You don’t really qualify as spy anymore, you’re way too much!” Herbert chimes up.

“I’m sorry mister so cute he’s literally started riots, what was that about being too much?” Harold asks as he gives Herbert the stinkeye and gets a raspberry in return. Elmira starts to giggle at the exchange. Missing the thumbs up Herbert flashes Harold.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Living Deck, The Fruit Flower, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

“God damn, what did they even do to get stains up that high?” The Gohb on the little hover skiff asks as he has turned the main light of his vehicle straight up. He as in an environmentally sealed suit along with the other three Gohb men and pair of Kohbs scanning the ship for anything useful that wasn’t tainted.

“It’s primarily carbon now and who knows whatever it was before.” The next Salvager states.

“Laser scoured feces. No I don’t know why.” The Kohb Biologist notes.

“I’m less concerned about the why and more on the how. The roof is damn near caked in it. Was this done repeatedly over a long period or all at once? Either way, disgusting.” The Kohb Chemist adds.

“Actually we’ve cracked that. A bunch of pirates kept personal notes. Apparently the trading fleet identified as The Bountiful Harvest put up way more of a fight than they thought and they got a much smaller take than they hoped. So they started soiling the ships deliberately as revenge. The rest of them they had to use for parts to repair their own ships. Leaving only four ships from the small fleet, two of which were destroyed in the first three months since it’s capture.” Dispatch calls and clarifies things.

“So petty revenge and deliberate sabotage. Stupid, stupid stupid, there’s a reason feces smells terrible. It’s just asking for a bevy of infectious diseases.” The Biologist states out loud.

“No one here disagrees.” The lead Salvager says as they reach the indicated door. “Still, if you think they treated the ships badly, what do you think they did to the people they captured? We’ve only recovered one of them. A Synth woman who’s body at the time was the sort of things that I’d have slapped together to go around and slap my sisters when I was seven.”

“Did you actually do that?” The Chemist asks.

“Twice before they stopped trying to deliberately piss me off. Fighting back works wonders.” The Salvager says. “Okay here’s the door.”

It’s no longer functional. In fact the area looks even more badly damaged than most of the ship’s internals. The fact they kept their destructive tendencies away from the load bearing struts and walls was clearly a miracle.

The door is broken, but easily forced with a hydraulic jaw to spread it nice and wide.

There is an impressed whistle from one of the Salvagers. “Damn! No one touch anything, I need to scan for live surfaces, no way in hell the cables around here aren’t shredded or something.”

“You’re the electrician.”

“That I am.” He says before scanning the area. Then using Axiom to telekinetically shift some things around and uncovered exposed wires pouring a charge into the floor of the room before covering them in electrical tape as a temporary measure. “We need to fully cut the power to this area. I’ve seen less destructive explosions.”

“We did.” Dispatch says. “The ship has been upgraded to have reserve micro-generators, and they’re not on the official schematics. Meaning the pirates did it.”

“Fuck.” The Electician grunts. “I like this place even less now and I was already about to advocate for scrapping this filthy deathtrap.”

“Yeah, but we have a legal owner on The Inconceivable, meaning it’s not our call. But it is my recommendation.” The Lead Salvager says as he floats up to the vent and unhooks it from the wall. It’s stuck on with all the grime. He pulls it off and lets it clatter. He then sends in a tiny and very basic drone to scan through it.

It finds a divot with a sealed container making it flush to the rest of the vent. Axiom and a bit of finagling brings the container out. It’s lid is metal, but the rest is plastic. It’s got a fountain pen, inkwell and leather bound book inside.

“This is it boys. Maybe the last thing on this ship belonging to our sole survivor that isn’t smashed, soiled or both.” He says.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (System Edge, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

The lens of a drone covered in stealth panels adjusts itself. It had been sent to long term observe a system. The low powered device was so unobtrusive that it would have to be more or less rammed into to be detected in the black. It did however mean that it took minutes to fully register what most ships could do in milliseconds. And at these ranges.

Hours pass as the tiny device intakes all the information it can. Then it sends out a single tiny alert with a snapshot of the system and the time.

Then it detonates.

It is so far away from the Ambush Fleet that the tiny plume of thermal energy is dismissed as space debris colliding at sufficient speeds to cause a slight reaction. A very, very normal state of affairs.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Elmira’s Temporary Quarters, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

She slowly opens the container. She wanted to be alone when she read it again and... “Oh? The ink is still mostly good.”

She sets aside the still sealed inkwell and pen and pulls out the book. The weight is growing more familiar by the moment and she runs her hands over the Lalgarta leather and smiles.

Her handwriting in the book is swooping and in the Huraga language. All designed with a little hook at the top because they were copies of clan symbols and signals that were hung from branches and vines in the ancient past. Formal Huraga calligraphy always included the hooks.

“Oh... Bali...” She mutters as she reads the little blurb where she had mused that if the woman ever got married there was no way she’d be regarded as anything more than the boring one. “I miss you.”

Bali had died when the holdout room had been breached. A single overcharged shot of plasma and the Drin woman was gone from the shoulders up.

She keeps reading. Little nitpicks and complaints about the girls in her fleet, about... about all of them. Right. She had put the book away as a time capsule so that she’d see if her opinion on the girls changed after a few years, and she had accentuated the negative to give them a sort of glow up.

She decides to remember the bad, to remind herself of all the good. She had met everyone in her fleet at least once, and while she wasn’t the captain in any fleet, she was still in some way responsible for all of them as her mother’s representative in the fleet itself.

Holographic tears well in her synthetic eyes and pour down her muzzle before falling. But they’re projections, they fade away as they strike the paper. They don’t wet or distort it.

She notices this and can’t help but consider that her tears can’t do anything for the dead, for good or ill.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Bridge, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

“Everyone, on alert.” Harold says suddenly.

“What? Why?” Orchid asks.

“I don’t know. Something is up.”

“What?”

“I have no idea.” He says as he starts looking around and then turning in his command couch. He stands up from it and keeps scanning before looking straight down. He openly ponders things and then sits back down and brings up the exact orientation of The Inconceivable and then blinking. “Directly from La’ahbaron.”

“La’ahbaron current events...” Orchid brings up. “Increased tension with the Therasite Republic. The Ochre Party is getting increased prominence due to the declaration of war and an increased Anti-La’ahbaron sentiment growing. Common slogans relate to how horrible their neighbours are when their foes are resorting to neural clamps to be rid of them. The Orchre party remains a minority however, but has stolen from the Kinesis Party a little and jumped up to six percent from four in the share of the voters. The Amber Fleet of La’ahbaron is under scandal due to several unnamed noble Ibu houses trying to force their children into prominent leadership positions to retroactively soak up some glory. A historical library in one of the core worlds was struck by the opposing Vish forces resulting in total devastation and a large number of cultural artifacts and handwritten scrolls and books have been reduced to ash. Interestingly I’m not seeing anything in the way of a partially recovered scroll. Meaning that we either have looting going on or some unusually thorough incendiary weapons.”

“All of it interesting. But this feels different. Physical. Like someone wants to punch me in the face.”

“Merely an intrusive thought on my end.” Orchid confesses/jokes.

“No! No, it’s not that.” Harold nearly bursts out laughing then sobers up immediately. “Something, something is coming. But it’s very far away.”

First Last Next

First

Home at War

“You do realize the atmospherics technicians are liable to hunt you down with spears if they realize you’re doing that right?” Harold asks in amusement as he comes across Engineer Vroom smoking outside the recovery chamber.

“Sir! I’m right under a vent that leads to a filter anyways. Standard maintenance means I could have myself and fifty others smoking like chimneys before we even put a dent on the day to day affairs. The drones we have cleaning this place out are always working after all.”

“True, but they can get touchy and might take personal offence.” Harold says. “How is the patient?”

“Doctor Redhoof is with her now. Puzzling out her identity.”

“Hmm... I think I may have found her.” Harold says kneeling down and pulling out his communicator to project the information.

“Elmira Palmers, synth clone and daughter of Rigarda Palmers... in charge of a branch of a merchant fleet... wait, isn’t that the symbol that they’ve adopted an Undaunted clone?”

“Yes, one of my line to be specific.”

“Damn. What else you got?”

“The Pirate Fleet had one of the ships she was lost with. It’s one of the few in good enough condition to consider refurbishing rather than outright scrapping.”

“Hunh. That is much more solid.” Vroom notes. “What if it’s not her?”

“I’m going to ask her a few questions to potentially help with her therapy, not shove everything into her face. If it’s a positive I reveal my suspicions and we take it from there. Having her full ID will accelerate her recovery by a significant margin.”

“Well, you are the boss here. So far be it from me to make calls outside my expertise.”

“Don’t leave stupid orders unquestioned.” Harold tells him and Vroom smirks.

“I think it’s a bad idea, the girl needs time to adjust just being physical again. That body she was in had nothing dedicated to feedback or sensory information beyond the most basic. It had as many sensory organs as this thing.” Vroom says tapping Harold’s communicator with a finger. “I’m not an expert on the mind, but I have heard time and time and time again just how disorienting it is to be in a body without appropriate sensory input. A minute or two is the kind of thing that niggles the brain all day and keeps you up for a bit. Hours of it requires weeks to recover from and months of it? She’s going to be off kilter for years, and that’s on top of the fact she’s clearly done SOMETHING to defend herself which involved some kind of voluntary amnesia.”

“And do you have some idea of a proper pace to set things? Remember we also need her stable enough to get her off the ship with minimal issues, a civilian in a warzone is a problem and we’re going to a warzone.” Harold notes.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Even now someone might get the idea that they want to pull something. We’ve had shots out of the black, stealthed mines and I’m willing to put up everything I own including my own ass as a bet that we’re going to see more show up.” Vroom notes.

“Yeah, personally I’m expecting some kind of Void Fauna or Cyborg mega-fauna made into a super weapon suddenly launched at us or teleported onto the ship so it can start rampaging.”

“By which you mean you want them to do something like that so you can sword fight a T-Rex or something.”

“Yes.” Harold replies.

“Fair.” Vroom says. “... We’re both right, which means we both need to be kinda wrong too. Shit. I hate compromise.”

“Feels like failure?”

“Feels like I had a better option I missed. But yeah.” Vroom says. “... But that’s the perfectionist talking. Time is often the price of better results, but time is a roulette wheel in this situation. And every time we get the nothing option the odds of it coming up again go down and down. Get in there Commodore, but please be tactful sir.”

“I am the soul of tact.”

“Tactical nukes maybe.” Vroom notes and Harold chuckles as he stands up.

“So glad you know me.” Harold says before he opens the door. “But seriously, watch out for atmospherics, they’re going to do something if they catch you smoking.”

“My lungs my choice.”

“Their air, they’re going to do something.” Harold replies as he steps into the room.

“Well they can bring it on!” Vroom notes before the door closes.

“Sir?” Doctor Redhoof asks. He was laying on the bed beside where the patient was sitting and she had her right hand tangled in his mane.

“At ease doctor, I am here because I have suspicions on who our guest here is and want to make sure of it. If we’re right we can speed up her recovery.”

“Excellent news sir, but why did you not just send it to my communicator?”

“Because if we are right then there is a case for saying I may have responsibilities beyond master of this ship and fleet towards our rescued civilian here.” Harold says as he brings up an image on his communicator. “Ma’am, does this stir any memories?”

It’s the image of a small, beautiful child. Brown hair, wrapped in swaddling cloth and being held in brown furred arms and against the chest of a woman wearing a business suit. The image is zoomed in so that the baby takes all of it up and no features of the woman beyond her furred arms matching the colour of the patient being visible.

“That... he’s...” She begins to answer then sucks in a sudden breath. Or at least mimics the function by reflex. “Arlan! He!”

She pauses as she takes the communcator from him and then freezes and looks up at him. Her eyes narrow as she tries to make sense of what she’s seeing. Then they widen as she clearly puts things together.

“How long was I trapped there?!”

“Only a few months. Arlan is a clone, I am also a clone of the same line, but rapidly aged. I look like Arlan will when he grows up.” He explains gently.

“It’s... it’s crashing back. I... I’m Elmira! Elmira Palmers and they! They! Those monsters!” Elmira exclaims as she grabs at her head and breathes in and out deeply. Then her hands close around her ‘hair’ and she makes to rip it out, but the projection simply breaks and reforms instead and she starts trying to beat her own head.

“Why!? Why!? Why!? Why did they do those things!?” She demands smacking her head and is then pinned as Harold hugs her. “WHY!?”

“That was... hmm...” Doctor Redhoof muses for a moment. “Ask me first next time. This could end badly and was a stupid risk.”

“Maybe, but some bandages need to be ripped off.”

“Only if the bleeding has stopped sir.” Redhoof counters. “You’ve just made yourself fairly central into her healing.”

“Not just me.” Harold counters as he pats Elmira on the back. “Herbert’s listening in, and he’s now on the approach.”

Elmira sniffles. “Herbert?”

“The original. But he’s also de-aged. So he looks much more like Arlan than I do.” Harold explains.

“Oh... and... what about Arlan?”

“With your permission, we’ll contact your mother and tell her we’ve recovered you. We weren’t sure you were you yet. So things move at your pace. But... well... The Fleet isn’t in a safe place.” He says as the hug breaks up and she shuffles to the side, suddenly somewhat embarrassed.

“Sorry about uh...” She begins and he waves it off.

“I hugged you, you needed a hug. And if my senses don’t deceive me then...” Harold begins and then points to the door. It does not open. He waits a moment. “Herbert, I know you’re right outside the door, get in here.”

“Nah, I think I’ll leave you hanging.” Herbert says and then after a couple moments the door opens.

Elmira lets out a bit of a titter at the expression on Harold’s face before turning and seeing Herbert and stopping. “Oh... oh goodness you... you are... yes. I remember more now and...”

“Don’t force Elmira. Let it come back in it’s own time.” Doctor Redhoof says.

She stands up off the bed and crouches down to Herbert’s level. Then slowly reaches out, halting a bit as his eyebrows move in such a way to suggest he’s looking at one hand than the other.

“What happened to you? Are you blind? Where did these markings come from?” She asks gently caressing his face and running her thumb along the red markings. “Are these tattoos?”

“No, the big guy over there touched something really powerful and it caused a sympathetic reaction. Now I can see things that most can’t but most of the time that just means there’s something moving in my peripheral vision. The markings is why you can feel so much Axiom out of me. The eyes are pouring that other energy out, and the markings turn them into Axiom.”

“How strange... Oh! I’m sorry this must feel very rude of...” She starts to pull her hands away and he gently grasps them and puts them back on his face.

“We have questions, and as you heal we’ll get our answers. So please, if it helps then feel away.” Herbert says.

She sits down on the floor and then gently pulls Herbert a little closer and hugs him. “You’re very cute, you know that right?”

“So cute it’s a problem.”

“Our family has a special power that lets us hide, without it we might not even exist, because we’re too cute for our own good.” Harold says.

“Then... Arlen?”

“He’s just that cute too. Maybe cuter as he’s still a baby. It won’t be until he’s about thirteen years old before the power kicks in to keep him safe. Maybe earlier now that we have more of that strange power in us.” Herbert says and she lets out a thinking noise as she hugs Herbert a little closer and is slowly thinking. Then nodding.

“Then... then there’s a point. I need... yes. I need to be stronger and better because if not then my baby brother won’t be able to... he’ll... it’s going to be worse for him than it was for me, isn’t it?”

“If either of you even think of confirming these doom and gloom thoughts of hers I will buck your kneecaps backwards.” Doctor Redhoof says as he jumps down from the bed. “Elmira. Elmira look at me please.”

She looks up into the large eyes of the Mrega man.

“You are not your brothers keeper. Recovery is important. Yes. It will help you. Yes. It will help your brother and mother. Yes and yes. But most importantly of all, recovery is healthy. Heal, for it’s own sake. It needs no other purpose and rushing it can actually slow it.”

“How does that work?”

“If we rush things, we can skip important parts of the healing process.” He says.

“And what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to assert yourself. I want you to argue, to fight. To prove to the galaxy and yourself time and again that you have the choice. That you are in control of yourself and your own life. That is what is healthiest for you now.”

“And if I want to go and see and cuddle my baby brother? What then?”

“Then you should go and see and cuddle your baby brother. Miss Palmers, situations like yours have been studied. Right now living life is the greatest antidote. Go and see new places, listen to music, feel all you can dare to touch. Eat foods of all kind, smell every flower you can find. Do it all in the order that feels best to you to assert yourself and grow whole. Fill the emptiness that you were trapped in with pure, raw life.” Doctor Redhoof says. “But with some measure of restraint as well. There’s no point to making a recovery if you hurt yourself in the process, now is there?”

“No, there isn’t.” She agrees.

“Good. Now... I’m not exactly certain what to say to you two as both of you are my nominal superiors, clearly intending to help her recover and somewhat relatives via adoption. Although the actual word for your relationship isn’t something that translates into galactic trade, you are still Harr’Bree’Thah. Herd Through Sibling.”

“No, I think we’re closer to Harth’Bree’Thah. Family Through Sibling.” Herbert corrects.

“Perhaps Harr’Bree’Thuun. Herd Through Kin.” Harold offers.

“You both know Herrdasha?” Doctor Redhoof asks.

“A bit. Don’t ask me to keep up a conversation, lord knows what kind of horrible accent will roll out past the first few words.” Harold says.

“I’m a high ranking intelligence officer and therefore I need to translate and understand a lot of things. Harold has a copy of a good chunk of my memories, and that includes a few primers on the most common Mrega languages.”

“Oh no, you ran into Centris Mrega.”

“We did.”

“I disavow those crazy nags, the culture of cults and conspiracy on that world does WEIRD things to Mrega women.”

“We noticed.” Harold says with a slight chuckle.

“Oh no, you got it full blast.”

“We got something full blast.”

“I am so sorry.”

“You’re not responsible for those crazy girls.”

First Last

First

Home at War

There are so many little benefits to the extra organs and other downsides of the human augmentation. Smoking is one of them. The lovely, lovely sense of tobacco to smooth nerves and play with the smoke as you de-stress.

He can hear through the door. The poor woman is trying and failing to make sense of herself as Doctor Redhoof talks her through things. He has to stay close by though, close enough to be called in in case some mental issue is actually an issue incorporating into the body, but far enough away to afford the girl some privacy as her very soul is laid out.

He can’t make out individual words, but he can hear the conversation inside turn to some kind of question. One that gets silence and then wondering, and then a panicked sound. The door opens.

“Engineer, we need you.” Doctor Redhoof says poking his head out.

“Certainly. What’s happened?”

“She needs a tail.”

“Okay. What kind of tail? Short and stubby? Long and dexterous? Fat, skinny? Tails come in a variety of shapes.” He asks as he enters the lab again. He heads to the table that the patient is sitting on. “Thankfully, it doesn’t matter what type you need. As I said before. I am a perfectionist.”

He opens a drawer under the bed. There are a series of handles with different labels. “Let’s see, arms, legs, heads, wings, tails here we go.”

He pulls up on the correct handle and it reveals a full drawer with a set of four different little devices that don’t look like anything other than a brick of electronics. “Okay, so here’s how these work. We attach them to the base of the spine and each one will expand to the general configuration. It then synchronizes with the rest of the mental image that you are projecting ma’am and it should take a very comfortable and familiar shape.”

“Why wasn’t one attached to begin with?”

“Because the recovery process is best started as simple and basic as possible then tailored to fit the patient more and more as we go on.” He answers. “So what are you feeling ma’am? This one gives a very long and powerful tail, the maximum length is equal to your full current height and is as powerful as both legs. Right next to it is a substantially weaker one that’s still on the thicker end of things. Total maximum length and strength is roughly equal to a single leg in both respects.”

“No, neither of those.” She says.

“Ah then one of these most likely. This one projects a medium length tail that at maximum extension is as long as one of your arms from shoulder to fingertip. It can move, but is not overly flexible and generally serves as a counterbalance. Think Lopen or a Feli. Finally we have the most integrated and dexterous tail of the lot. Think Agurk or even a Dzedin...”

“Ma’am?” Doctor Redhoof asks. The woman had visibly flinched.

“Do I need to leave the room again?” The Engineer asks.

“No I... I need THAT tail.” She says and he smiles.

“Of course. Now witness my genius, if you’ll rise up a little please?” He asks and she lifts herself off the bed a little. He then activates a few small buttons on the device and it sends out a chime, there is an answering chime from her own rear and then they synchronize in their chiming three times and there is a burst of Axiom as the tail module vanishes from his hands in a teleport and suddenly a long tail is extending out from her rear. A tail that quickly develops a fur like texture and then turns into a soft brown.

She reaches back and holds her tail for a moment, then the brown of the tail starts to spread over her arms, legs chest and even the edges of her face.

Her face stretches out a little as her feet shift into a more hand like configuration.

“I... I am... I was an Agurk.” She realizes as the tanned skin tone takes over where the fur ends and she starts examining all four of her hands. “Something is still... still...”

Her nails explode into a vibrancy of colour and cycle until she finds them baby blue and abruptly stops. “Yes. Yes that’s right. I...”

She’s starting to smile.

“I love this colour. It’s always...” She begins to say before she pauses and her hands reach up for her head, she feels around it and frowns. “That’s not right it’s... it’s...”

A mane of hair explodes from her head and then hangs down straight as it reaches shoulder length. Still pure white with a slight aura of blue. Then it solidifies into a solid silver colouration. She begins patting herself and then seems to realize that she’s lacking in a few details.

“No nipples?” She asks realizing that she may be ‘naked’ but is showing nothing. That doesn’t stop her from using her hands to cover her breasts and tail to cover the space between her legs.

“That body is medical grade. It doesn’t have those kinds of functions without a passcode. Which means you can get dressed first.” He says as he closes the tail drawer now that it’s been such a success and then closes that shelf entirely before going to the next lowest one. “Now as for clothing... how are we feeling? Something revealing? Something conservative? Tight? Flowing?”

“Do you have clothes and not more projectors?” Doctor Redhoof asks.

“More projectors, but the projectors work best in certain ways. A projector designed to give a woman a flowing dress that dances in the wind or a majestic cape is very different from one that gives the impression the clothes are painted on. So different in fact that we also have a few middle grounds as well.” He explains easily. “Now then ma’am? How are we feeling?”

“Normal clothes?” She asks.

“Okay, middle of the middle then. Best compromise.” He says pulling out a small case and holding it up. He then presses a button on it and her waist, collar, wrists, ankles and the top of her head flash blue in response to the case flashing blue, then they flash in sync three times and then the case is empty and a soft blue, sleeveless blouse is suddenly covering her chest and leaving a little bit of stomach revealed before sheer white pants stretch down before flaring out around her ankles. She has Agurk fingerless sandals on now and fingerless climbing gloves. A blue bow that matches her fingernails and blouse is now in her hair and another on her tail.

“There we go! See doctor? Perfect takes time and effort, but it’s so very much worth it.”

“We shall see Engineer Vroom. It all depends on what our friend here thinks of it. It is her body after all.” Doctor Redhoof counters and he nods before closing the drawer.

“It feels... normal.” She says as she runs her fingers along the palms of all four hands and then starts gently feeling out the pants with flare. The blouse gets a few tugs and she feels the bows. “It feels like fabric. Like I’m really wearing clothes.”

“Yes, the whole point of that body and the add-ons I’ve just incorporated is to make you feel as comfortable as possible. This is an upgraded version of the kind of body that the Synth Ascendance, or Ascendancy if you’re more modern, uses to help newly sequenced Synths find themselves. Essentially a brand new mind that’s entirely digital needs as few shocks as possible, this is professional grade care you’re receiving and I put in my own special touches.”

“Such as?”

“The password to unlock the fun features, sexually speaking, of your current body is to tap your left wrist with your middle finger three times, and then the right wrist with your thumb three times. It also turns those features off again.”

“Why is that a special touch?”

“Because most such prosthetics only have those features either present or missing. She gets to choose instead now, giving her more agency and control of herself and life. She can choose to have, or not have sex and the only thing she can’t get out of it is pregnant or sick.”

“Anything else?” She asks him and he smiles.

“A few others, but the biggest one for you is that it’s very, very easy to upgrade. Once you’re fully yourself again you won’t have to transfer into a new body. I have a few ready to go upgrades so you can have everything you’ll want out of life in that body.”

“Even a child?”

“Yes. And if we can fully lock down who you are we’ll be able to get an old DNA sequence and the artificial womb will sequence an egg out of your DNA.” Vroom says.

“So I can just keep the body?”

“Yes. I’ve already gotten to the halfway point of making the next one. That’s your new body.” Vroom tells her.

“Now that we’ve established what you are, an Agurk Synth woman who is Free and Safe, can we work on who you are?” Doctor Redhooves asks and Vroom gives a nod to the Doctor and slips out of the room after closing the shelves and leaves the psychiatrist with her to hang out just outside again.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Main Bridge, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

“Two damn ships. Of a thirty ship fleet that attacked us and were taken with minimal damage, only two are intact enough to actually repurpose, and it’s marginal at that.” Harold notes as the pair of Jules Class Interceptors were on readout. The rest was a mess to powerwash with low grade lasers before feeding into the furnaces and smelters of The RAM.

“Marginal is being generous in my opinion. Look at these scans of on a chemical basis. They were up to some absolute nonsense in these ships. This group of pirates clearly fell further onto the utter lunatic spectrum than anything else.” Orchid remarks.

“Yes, I strongly suspect they were only partway through whatever mad christening rituals or breaking in of those two ships.” Harold notes as a note comes up. “And like magic my unvoiced question is answered. These two ships are indeed the most recently stolen. The insurance organizations behind them have written them off entirely and paid out to the previous owners already.”

“Which is an issue as we will have to inform the previous owners that we now have possession of their previously owned vehicles and hand them over if they want them back.”

“Yes we will. Downside to being a law abiding individual. But the upside is that in general people follow the same rules for you and yours.” Harold notes as he gets the registration numbers for the two ships and looks into the legal owners.

“Madeline Warren for the first and Rigarda Palmers.”

“... Palmers has a Synth Daughter, and we have one in the midst of recovery.” Harold notes.

“You think it may be her?”

“Lets see, Agurk Businesswoman, owns a pair of shipping fleets, she started up a third around the time she also had a Synth Daughter crafted from her own psyche and then five months ago the Fleet was reported as lost with all hands including the daughter. Now we have one of the four protective ships for the fleet here, and an unknown synth prisoner in the midst of the recovery process.”

“Elmira Palmers? Well, regardless she’s going to have a long period of recovery. That long being the plaything of sadistic pirates will do a number on anyone.” Orchid says as he examines the image of the delicately painted Synth that looked like a slightly shorter and younger version of Rigarda who hugs her happily from behind in the photo.”

“Hmm... it seems that it may be awkward. Elmira is family.” Harold notices.

“What?”

“See this symbol? She’s an adopter of one of the Jamesons. She was approved a mere two months after I was discovered.” Harold says before standing. “Which means I should take a more personal hand in things. You have the bridge Lieutenant Orchid.”

“What are you doing?”

“She would have had some time to get to know my little brother as her brother, but not before the facial tattoos and white eyes. Meaning I will be both familiar and a stranger to her.”

“And what if she’s not Elmira Palmers?”

“Then we have a very big, very strange coincidence.” Harold notes before bending down and pressing a few screens. “See the progress they’ve made on our recovered Synth already?”

“She’s an Agurk.” Orchid notes. “... and appears to have her preferences in colour returning.”

First Last

First

Home at War

“Hello.” A child says and she looks up from where she’d been dozing on the thin shelf of a bed. She couldn’t break off the band, slip it off or work around it, and trying anything else just summoned the guard. So she would wait for her chance to do something. There was always a chance, an opportunity or what have you that let her do what she wanted.

“Hello? The fuck is a child doing here?”

“The fuck are you doing here?” The child volleys back. Their tone dripping of inncence despite the fact he just repeated what she said.

“Don’t say that word.”

“What? Here?” He asks.

“Why is there a child here!?” She calls out as she sits up fully. If this strangeness won’t go away then it has to be dealt with.

“I’m here to ask you some questions.”

“Oh please, you’re a child. You can’t understand any answers I have for you.”

“Actually I’ve been hit with too many healing comas. I’m an adult, father and your current interrogator.” The adorable little boy says.”

“Oh, and why did you get them? Too many grey hairs?”

“The last one was when a shrunken chunk of metal expanded as it travelled through my body. It shredded from here to, well all this.” He explains indicating a spot on his stomach then turns around and draws a big circle on his lower back. “The time before that I hit terminal velocity and barely had enough Axiom skill to not die instantly. But I was knocked out, which was a problem because I was moving so fast and hard I had bounced off the concrete.”

“Who are you?”

“Herbert Jameson, elder brother to the Commodore of the Fleet you clumsily tried to proposition.” Herbert notes.

“Oh? So you’re here for some revenge for my getting too grasping?”

“Actually I’m here to hear what possible excuse you could have for all the nonsense that we’ve been finding in your base. All the files we’ve pulled out says that you’re in charge and if something happened that you didn’t like you used the woman responsible for target practice. Or the one you thought was responsible. A few personal diaries we’ve cracked into have outright confessions of framing each other and getting you to kill people they were tired of pretending to like.”

“They did what!?”

“They used the predictable, volatile maniac as a weapon against each other.” Herbert says fearlessly as she stands up and TOWERS over the tiny child in a formal military uniform.

She walks up to the bars and has to lean forward to see the absolutely tiny boy past her breasts. She sneers down at him and he scoffs.

“Lady I use Graser Cannons in melee combat. And I’m still the subtle one compared to the walking disaster area that is my brother. You’re going to have to try very, very hard to scare me. So let’s talk like the adults we both allegedly are and just get to the point.”

“The point?”

“What could you possibly say to excuse the appalling things we have records of you doing?”

“Excuse?”

“Yes, what excuse are you going to use? Hmm? Was Mommy more hitty than huggy? Maybe a whole load of bad things happened to baby and she...” He mocks her and she throws her head back to laugh.

“Excuse? Excuse?! I don’t need an excuse! I’m stronger! I’m bolder! I’m better! I see what I want and I take it! Someone gets in my way and they die! It’s not hard! I’ll get out of this too, I’ll get you and your brother!”

“Hunh, well I suppose can’t complain about getting results when I was trying to provoke a reaction. So there’s nothing? No deep wound that supposedly justifies things? You’re not fighting back against some kind of injustice and just can’t stop?”

“Are you drunk? No, I know what I’m doing is what everyone says is wrong, but that’s because they’re weak and stupid. The kind of people that need protection from people like me. I’m better than them. I don’t need protection, I am beyond that and whether I play their games or not is at MY discretion and no one else’s.”

“Well that does make things easier. So you’re gonna stand on it? You did it all because you felt like it and because no one ever managed to stop you before?”

“You haven’t stopped me yet!” She answers and he raps his knuckles against the bars of her cell. “You’ve only slowed me down.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.” Herbert notes and her hand snaps out to grab at him. He slips away and seems to... he doesn’t exist anymore and...

She thrashes out with her arm and it impacts SOMETHING. She grabs it and gets what feels like NOTHING it is NOTHING and she pulls back hard.

Suddenly he’s back. It makes sense, she’s grabbing onto the now very beautiful child who has pressed a laser pistol to her collarbone. He has pure white eyes and blue and red facial markings.

“You’re not his brother. You’re his clone.” She realizes.

“Actually, he’s mine. Now let go, or learn to breathe from between your breasts.” Herbert says calmly and she lets go and leans against the bars as he backs up a few steps and then stows the weapon. He then smooths out where she had grabbed his jacket and looks up at her. “So, what did that accomplish?”

“Plenty.” She says and she lunges forward again. He’s gone again and she snaps out her other hand to sweep and grab him, even as her first hand comes up and then.

He’s back. His pistol barrel glowing as he pauses. Then smiles.

“Clever. You’d have me destroy the restraining band, oh very clever indeed.” He says as he simple steps even further away. “But of course, even if you got out, the guard is still here. And the cameras. And the door has passwords and more security on them. To say nothing of the random placement of trytite panelling. And the fact that you have no idea where you are. If you’re on planet or not.”

“I’m on a planet, I can tell the difference between artificial and natural gravity.”

“Right, you can tell the difference between artificial and natural gravity but not the fact that the laws exist to protect people like you as much as it’s in place to stop the so called weak from getting victimized by you.”

“Oh yeah? In what way do the rules and laws of the weak and timid protect me?”

“You’re still alive.” Herbert says plainly.

“Excuse me?”

“I want to kill you, but I have rules.” Herbert notes calmly. “Now I have what I need from you, so just sit down and try not to make things worse for yourself you evil bitch. Or rather, please do. There’s a threshold where I get to feed you the barrel of my gun and pull the trigger. I’m sure you can imagine just how that would turn out for you.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

I, the fuck, am Herbert Jameson. Grand Patriarch and Huntsman, older brother of Harold Jameson, The Saint Redblade.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Synth Repair Bay, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

Systems boot up and the feedback makes her gasp. Cameras that aren’t breaking down feed visual data, audio receptors are at full power. Tactile feedback gives a sensation other than absence and there are even chemical scanners functioning as olfactory sensors.

She holds up her now matching hands. Gentle white plastics and tiny hardlight projectors. She... she...

The projectors activate and her form fills out. The feedback is amazing. Like a starving woman would gorge she rocks back and forth and lets out a wordless cry. Just drinking in the sensory data as the psychosomatic buzzing scream in her hard drive finally starts to quiet down.

“Hey! Sleeping beauty’s awake!” A friendly voice says from nearby and she turns to see a Gohb man with her former body on the low table next to him. “Any gaps in your memory? Processing glitches? I’m a specialist at this kinda thing, so if your body is uncomfortable or there are any ticks or glitches you can detect then you let me know.”

“This body is Gohb made?” She blurts out then covers her speaker in horror. That was terribly rude and... he’s laughing.

“Yeah! It’s Gohb made, but don’t you worry. You see, I’m something that drove my mother, sisters, brothers and fathers to complete madness! A perfectionist! That body I designed and made over the course of a couple of weeks and let me tell you, you won’t find anything better off any shelf anywhere! I full on would get commissions from the Synth Ascendance before I signed up to The Undaunted.”

“Why would you... wait, what’s happened? I came to during an attack of some kind and after determining that they wouldn’t be trying to hurt me some more I tried to find an escape. But my body there...”

“Yeah... broken. Broken to the point that it couldn’t even feel pain anymore could it?”

“It was like being trapped in the void with only a pinhole to see through. I felt nothing, could barely hear or see. Nothing made sense and I could hear whispering in the back of my head.”

“That is your mind trying to survive when starved of sensory stimulation. It effectively remixes old memories to try and put in some kind of data to make up for the sheer loss. The downside is that it often uses the jumbled nonsense that is the dreaming state for that and the difference between a dream and a nightmare is hair thin on a good day.” The Gohb explains as he walks up to her and pulls out something from under the bed. Something he stands on to stand over her. He then takes her arm. “Now that you’ve regained full awareness and cognition, let’s do a quick feedback test to make sure you’re receiving all the sensory data you need to stay sane and sober. I’m going to tuck your arm under my armpit, and use my back as a visual block as I touch and move your fingers. I want you to tell me which one I’m toying with and how.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” She says holding out her arm and he tucks it up as he said he would and then starts fiddling with the hand. “You’re tapping the tip of my middle finger. Now your gently curling my smallest finger, you’re moving my thumb side to side. You just tapped all my fingers at once on the back. You just uncurled them all and... your quickly tapping all of them on the finger tip.”

“Excellent! Other hand please.” The Mechanic says and she holds her other hand to him. He physically hides it and then...

“You’re tickling the palm, now you’ve uncurled all my fingers and... you’re now tapping the back of my hand.”

“Excellent!” He says before patting her on the thigh, he then steps down from his little step and gently taps her leg all the way down to the foot where he gives the toes a small tweaking, then goes up the other leg. “Full feedback?”

“I felt it all.”

“Perfect, which means that there’s something else wrong. Which is concerning.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t projected anything in the way of personal details.” He says.

“What?”

“That body is designed for a recently digitized mind. Anything bipedal or quadrupedal with four limbs total would be able to use that body flawlessly and by impulse. But you’re still using generic colouration, soft blues and white. A very sleek look, but still unmistakably synth. With the projectors there should be some level of confusion on that part. But there isn’t.”

“I...” She begins to say as she looks at her hand. They’re shaped perfectly. But... they... “I...”

Her hands clasp around her head and she tries to thrash with a scream, but the Gohb is able to flawlessly pin her. “And this is why I put safety limiters on that body.”

“WHAT AM I!?” She screams.

“Yes, we need the psychiatrist. Preferably ten minutes ago, thank you.” He says into a small computer at his left wrist and the door opens.

“I was just outside, I KNEW you would need me.” The Mrega says rushing in. “Alright, ma’am calm down, and you get off her please.”

“Her body is designed to maximize the comfort of the mind inside but is not combat capable, so it’s not very strong. But if they get their hands on a weapon they’re still strong enough to pull a trigger and more than coordinated enough to aim.”

“Thank you, but I have this handled.” The Quadrupedal Doctor says clopping up to the bed side and leaning up. The Gohb slips away and hurries to the table where her former body was. He presses a button and the whole thing is covered in a hardlight forcefield.

“Now madam, I heard your cry earlier. What you are is a Synth and Safe. Focus on those two things and we’ll work to fill out the rest together.”

First Last

First

Home at War

“And just keep rubbing this onto the affected area until the discoloration has settled into a slight darkening of the skin compared to the rest.” The Doctor states.

“Thank you Doctor.”

“Now, please let me see to you ma’am. Your daughter has a relatively clean bill of health beyond the mild sunburns. We’re minutes away from the bloodwork finishing. Please, let me help you.” He pleads.

“Okay just... just...” She starts to say before her eyes flick over the room. “There...”

She looks to the side again. Then dismisses it as not important.

“Sir, please show yourself fully.” The Doctor says.

“I don’t want to startle her. So I’m phasing in slowly. She’s been through a lot.” Another man’s voice says and she looks around. Her eyes stop on a spot with... it’s not interesting. She looks away, then looks back.

“What’s going on?” She asks.

“I have an ability similar to the Cloaken. Basically you’ve proven to be rather jumpy when my second in command popped by to see you so I’m taking a much friendlier approach.” He says.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that... that horrible, horrible Snict.”

“I know. You’ve had a bad experience and you’re on guard. So I’m coming quietly and slowly so as not to startle you.” He says.

“You know?”

“I heard the screams, I heard the panic. So I’m arriving slowly so as not to scare you. You’ve been through more than enough.” He says and she can sort of see him. She knows he’s there now but his features are so boring. Even the fact that he’s a man does not make her interested and...

No. No she can find that interesting now. What is he even doing?

“How are you doing that?”

“My family is very beautiful. Too beautiful, so we figured out an outright supernatural way to hide and keep ourselves safe. I’ve got some control over it, so I’m slowly fading in to not scare you.”

“So you’re a pretty man?”

“I’ve been told I’m very pretty, so you don’t have to worry about a monster poking out.” He says in an amused voice. “But you’ve been through a lot, and from what we can dig up about you Miss Gust, you’re just a civilian and have been through too much excitement, but I still need answers out of you. So I’m using a touch so light that a feather would weigh more.”

“That’s yet to be seen.”

“Of course, now, if you’re comfortable. Please tell me about everything involving your kidnapping and capture. Don’t worry about redundant or repeating details and don’t worry about missing small details either. Just everything you’re comfortable telling me.” Harold says.

“Can I ask who you are first?”

“Commodore Harold Jameson, I’m in charge of this fleet.” Harold says. “Now please Miss Gust. What happened?”

“The bad women took us! There was a spy on board the main ship and she had a beacon thingy that let her friends break the ship from far away and...”

“Alira, that’s enough darling.” Aura says. “First, Commodore Jameson, I need to know something.”

“Name it.” He says.

“Why did my family not pay the ransom?”

“I’m afraid the news is very bad madam, Doctor, should I tell her?”

“She’s stable enough to know it sir. It was just the shock of seeing a primarily white Snict that frightened her earlier.” The Doctor says.

“Miss Gust. I am sorry to say that your family has passed. There was a security leak revealing scandals at your homeworld that led to riots. Several families were all but extinguished during the resulting fires, building collapses and then military action to restore peace. Your family was caught in the middle of it all, and their deaths are attributed to the collapsing structures. I’m sorry.”

“Oh... Oh no... What happened? What was the scandal?”

“A member of parliament was exposed to be a former member of the Dark Cabal Pirates. She was well and truly entrenched in the political scene and when exposed was unwilling to run. She also used every legal and many illegal methods to try and stay in power despite the exposure and the pressure grew until the capital city was in flames with nearly every vehicle inside torched by Fire Erumenta and homemade bombs.”

“Oh, oh no.”

“As a result the previous parliamentary system has been thoroughly gutted and there are numerous checks where every time someone is voted into power they are subjected to a randomized search of their finances, history and assets at least once a year and if they do not pass then they’re immediately sent to prison for ten times the usual punishment.”

“That... is good I suppose and... it... Six hours ago, I was convinced I would never see my family again. Now that I know it, it hurts even worse. That’s not fair.” Aura says.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are YOU sorry for? It’s... that was unfair of me.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer as much as you have.” He says and she can see he is wearing a military uniform and has short brown hair. But everything else is still slipping from her mind.

“Right... what happens now?”

“Well, once we’re sure that you’re healthy and not going to spread some kind of sickness, we’re already ninety nine percent sure on that anyways, just waiting for the last few bits, we get you to Zalwore first, where you can either apply for refugee status with The Undaunted, or we provide transport and get you a nice little speedup to be repatriated to Coranlith Four, your homeworld. They’re allied to The Mekken reach who have their own Arcology there and as such can and will get you home in a hurry.”

“Is it even home anymore?”

“It’s only been a couple of years, your certifications and licenses as an Atmospherics Technician is still completely valid. In fact...” Harold explains before reaching behind himself and picking up a bundle. “We’ve taken the liberty of making copies of your missing or potentially destroyed IDs. Please tell me if anything is missing.”

She takes the small stack of cards and slides them out of the rubber band one after the other. It’s all her. Driver’s license, health card, social security, Atmospheric Technician certification card and everything else. Her breath hitches. She chokes back a sob, but it won’t be denied and in a few moments little Alira is wrapped around her to try and give her comfort as she weeps.

It’s over. It will never be the same again. It will never be fully right again. But it’s over.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Main Bridge, The Inconceivable, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

“How is she?” Orchid asks as he sits down in his command couch.

“Better, and worse. She’s at the stage where she’s openly crying about it, which means she’s letting her guard down and no longer feels like she’s in danger. Which is good, but also bad. She’s in no state to tell us anything.”

“And the reason she panicked at the sight of me?” Orchid asks.

“Not fully yet, but I have a suspicion.” Harold says as he brings up a list of all captured, killed or otherwise encountered pirates. He narrows it down to the Snict members of the pirate crew and then brings up visual profiles. Most are the standard browns and greens of the Snict peoples but...

“Albinos?” Orchid asks leaning over. Harold lets him at the controls. “Albino twins?”

“I think we may have found her primary abusers.”

“And the difference between an Albino and Flower Snict is that I have a touch more colour.” Orchid notes.

“It’s funny how most Snict in the Galaxy are the Leaf Snict.”

“Culturally they’re the most outgoing followed by the Bark Snict, Sand Snict and Stone Snict. Flower Snict like myself are very... culturally insular for the most part. So most people generally see more Albino Snict than Flower Snict.”

“Really?”

“Or so I’ve read at any rate. I’m a designer baby all grown up. I’ve never met another Flower Snict.” Orchid notes.

“Think you’ll ever run into one?”

“I suspect that when I become more publicly known they’ll start showing up. If only to tell me I’ve broken some obscure taboo or another.” Orchid notes.

“They’re that reclusive?”

“The more well known Flower Snict cultures are. Granted half of what I’ve read sounds like the sort of thing you’d get if there were five layers of sensationalist authors trying to make a culture that likes to keep to itself interesting. So I have no idea.”

“Really?”

“Can’t even get a proper grip on what language most Flower Snict speak. Let alone demographics within the least common Snict Phenotype or culture. I just know I’m a Flower Snict, which is as far as most people are concerned, are less common than Snict albinos.”

“Speaking of, what can you tell me about these two albinos?”

“Hmm...” Orchid considers as he re-examines them. “Non-flared and fairly glossy shells. They’re Bark Snict.”

“Oh?”

“Flower and Leaf Snict have glossy shell parts. Where Sand and Stone Snict have much more rough looking shells. Bark hits a middle ground that these two are in. Also Sand and Flower Snict have Flared shells, with there being a much more distinctly round shape in Stone Snict. Which leaves only Leaf and Bark for that shell shape, but it’s not glossy enough for a Leaf Snict.”

“Very interesting. You know it’s funny, for as fierce a reputation as the Snict have, Undaunted Intelligence has had relatively little trouble with them to the point that despite my being up to date on so much, we don’t really divide the Snict that much.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Orchid notes.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Just outside, Ruins of the Pirate Base, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

Pilot Blaze continues his scan over the ‘undamaged’ part of the structure. He still wasn’t sure what to call it. It used anti-gravity to counter the artificial gravity. They had kept the whole thing on the world to specifically cover up the big gun, and as such had to make all kinds of engineering compromises, workarounds and bullshit fixes that.

“Really?” He asks as one of the defensive emplacements begins moving. He activates the comms. “Hey, whoever’s fiddling with the guns on the pirate station, knock it off, I’m right next to the firing arc and you’re making my trigger finger real itchy.”

“The guns are moving?”

“Yes, the guns are moving.”

“The only guns that should be moving are the ones we’re extracting off the structure as we speak.”

“... Well then I’m sure the away teams will have a fun time explaining why I’m seeing this battery try and get a lock on me. If I wasn’t out of the potential firing arc entirely.”

“Alright, hold position. We’re getting some people in there to take a look.” Dispatch says.

“Alright, I’ll move onto the other areas that are outside the firing arc of this thing.” Blaze remarks.

“Got it, keep us updated if you see anything else moving that shouldn’t be.” Dispatch states.

“On it. Moving now.” Blaze says as he slowly backs away from the guns and then moves directly upwards.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Just outside, Ruins of the Pirate Base, Kaploosha Ornak System)•-•-•

“Strange that someone would expose themselves like this after we swept the place.” Bjorn notes.

“It’s just wrong. I heard everything in the structure. We got everyone who was still in atmosphere after the big gun was taken down.” Banshee remarks.

“And what do you hear now?” Naomi asks.

“Metal, metal scraping on metal.”

“A synth?”

“Maybe. They don’t have to breathe.” Banshee remarks even as they form up around the door. Bjorn to one side, Zyen’Huwt to the other. Ellie and Elija under Bjorn’s massive frame and ready with Naomi and Banshee behind Zyen.

“Diplomatic first.” Bjorn says before banging on the door. “Whoever’s in there! Surrender now! The Pirates in this fortress are all defeated! We have complete control of the area!”

There is a couple of knocking sounds and a scrape. All loud, all audible.

“... Are you hostile? One tap for yes, two for no.” Bjorn calls out. Two taps answer. “Are you injured? One for yes, two for no.”

One tap.

“Can you open the door?” Two taps.

“We’re going to force the door open. Will this harm you in any way?” Two taps.

Bjorn grabs the centre seam of the door and Zyen does as well. Both of them force teh mechanisms open and Elie and Naomi lean over first.

“Damaged Synth!” Naomi states.

“Get her out gently. This door does not want to cooperate.” Bjorn orders even as he adjusts how he’s standing and then slips into the doorframe to hold both sides over. “I’ve got it Sergeant Huwt, see to the woman’s safe extraction.”

He looks up and sees the broken synth. She’s in BAD shape. Whatever false flesh was on her is gone, chunks of her protective panelling is missing to expose her internals, he can clearly see the jointing around her hips and she’s down to her right arm and the stump of the left. Her head is... it looks like a skull and is missing it’s ‘lower jaw’, as well as most of the face plate. There is a small cord jammed into the computer terminal of the gun system. One she’s extracting.

“Did you do this to try and call for help?” Banshee asks her and the synth nods. “Alright, we’ll get you out of here. Just hold on.”

There is a slight burst of static from the synth but no one can hear anything else.

“You’re welcome. Now save your battery power. We’ve got you.” No one but Banshee it seems.

“See her to safety. It’s clear we need to do another evaluation of the entire structure to find anyone we may have missed.” Bjorn states as Zyen’Huwt and Naomi gently carry the Synth out between them, bringing Banshee along as the Synth has grabbed onto her hand and is refusing to let go.

First Last