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SUBJECT NAME: Captain Horatio Horner, Commanding Officer of Task Force 4 and the Carrier RSV Fuji CV-4

DATE: April 2143 CE - 135/3 AoE 

LOCATION: Ticonderoga System (12 light weeks from Galivus) 

•

When I read that the Beacons transmitted an exit point for ships, I imagined the system itself would be fairly small and self contained. Something we could just scoop up and go. Instead I was looking at a massive, high powered, omnidirectional transmitter more than six times the tonnage of every ship in our motley fleet combined. Chamberlain’s reports held absolutely no details as to what these beacons actually looked like, and now it seemed I was having to pay the price for that oversight. 

Even just stripping out enough working parts to keep the Beacon operating during transit would be a nightmare. Its onboard power supply was a machine of utter nonsense, it didn’t consume fuel and yet it was outputting almost 60% as much power as the Fusion Reactors onboard my Carrier. Besides the fact that its power supply on its own was larger than the Primrose, we couldn’t get the system to interface with anything we had. Even the Graschicks, much as I hated having to rely on non-humans, had no practical idea how the tech worked. 

Before any of that, we had to just get the Beacon’s working parts to interface with human tech. Already a feat and a half, seeing as how we still hadn’t figured out how to make Imperial Shields work on our ships even though we had a whole stockpile of working emitters leftover from the war. It was looking more and more like a gordian knot, with just enough slack to hang myself. I couldn’t fathom why a mission like this had to fall on my shoulders. I knew there must’ve been some other captains willing to break out the knee pads for the grays, someone of a more xenophile persuasion. Maybe that was why they stuck me with that fuckup, Shepherd. 

I saw shuttles heading to and from the Beacon, with one of the Graschick Frigates having fully docked. I tried to have the Primrose do the docking, beat out the lizards even if in just a small way. But Captain Scott cautioned against it, saying that his Destroyer just wasn’t capable of that kind of precise maneuvering without a docking tug. So I let the matter rest. But just looking out of my viewing screen, seeing someone else docked to what was now indisputably UN property… I had to will my white knuckled fists open, if only so my finger nails didn’t cut into my palms. 

Bradley should’ve known better. 

My hands uncurled, the decision was made, at least for now. No point crying about it now. 

They were working round the clock to get this problem solved. The Xiaolong’s Captain Shin, a civilian contractor, had asked me to detach some marines for the work. He needed bodies with working brains and working hands just to move everything over between the Beacon’s main body and his freighter. But they’d have to move the parts through the Graschick Frigate. 

I couldn’t help but worry what putting our Marines in close contact with the Graschick would do. These people weren’t our enemy, but that did not make them allies by any stretch of the imagination. A fact which my Marines might not fully appreciate, and a certain Commander Shepherd definitely didn’t. I had no goddamn clue what made Bradley change his mind, but I was absolutely certain that letting Shepherd off with a promotion would only incur disciplinary problems going forward. God knows the work we’re going to have to do for Earth isn’t gonna be pretty, if anything we should’ve just buried the whole thing, Shepherd and the Galivus Colonists included. I could not imagine the public appreciating us any better if they thought we were going around burning villages for no good reason. 

We were gonna need to burn down a lot more than that, and we were going to have a very good reason. 

But, no good could come from telegraphing that eventuality to the public. Better we ask forgiveness than permission with the things we had planned. Then again, Bradley’s response threw a wrench in all that. If he kept getting his way, coddling the grays like they didn’t try to enslave us all, then we might not have the will necessary to keep Earth truly safe. 

I could only hope the rest of the captains in the Fleet were keeping themselves detached from the aliens. Last thing we need right now is even more sympathizers mucking up the plan.

•

SUBJECT NAME: Captain D’Anthony Scott, Commanding Officer UNS Penrose DD-29

DATE: April 2143 CE - 135/3 AoE 

LOCATION: Ticonderoga System (Onboard the Graschick Frigate ChainBreaker) 

•

“An-And Then They Tried To Sue Me!” 

The whole table, already breathless with laughter, surged once more with a raucous joy that made my heart sing. I’d only known these Graschick “Reivers” as they called themselves for a few days, but they made an excellent first impression. 

“How did you escape the catch-pole then?” 

“You mean the Police? I jumped from the shuttle when its engines caught fire! Left the burning wreck right in the middle of the road, ran like hell before the smoke could clear.” 

Commander Shepherd piped up, “No way you dodged police drones on foot, those bloodhounds could smell you a mile away! Ask me how I know.” 

Reiver Lord Galy’Frin, our host for the evening, took the bait.

“And just how exactly do you know that?” 

“My Brother tried it, and he was captain of the Track Team. He left my breathless ass in the dirt, and they still caught him just fine.” 

“Well listen,” I said, still smiling from the last joke, “I know how to trick them so they don’t see you.” 

“Oh?” Our lizard host asked excitedly. “Do Tell!” 

“Get yourself an uncle in the force!” 

That one just about took the house down, though our break was just about over. We still had to cram that 1.2 million ton Beacon into a 20,000 ton freighter. Course, once it was down to just the transmitter and the computer systems it should have been doable. 

‘Should have been.’ 

Man, if those words didn’t just shit all over our best laid plans. The computers were a tangled mess that pushed at least two electricians to panic attacks, so far. The Transmitter itself may as well have been a cable television wire brought to its final logical extreme. We could improvise the Transmitter if need be, the exit point frequency was the problem since Imperial Computers needed to actually talk to each other to get those ships to properly navigate without being sucked right into every last little gravity well between yourself and your destination. These damn things were so attracted to even minor dips in gravity that it was entirely possible for them to just smack right into Rogue Planets when flying unassisted. And of course, traveling so fast left them completely blind, they couldn’t gauge if their fleet had gone off course or not. Having a computer on the other end telling you exactly what to do let these ships cross vast interstellar distances in just months instead of centuries. 

All of this was news to the fine folks of the Xiaolong, who were mostly hired to build houses on what was assumed to be a peaceful, idyllic, pastoral Galivus countryside. But we all saw how that turned out. 

Some of the contractors were already regretting their decision to come with us. Truth be told, I couldn’t blame them. Hell, had I not sat down with Galy and his boys to get a feel for them, I never would’ve felt all that good about this assignment. But, those Aliens were good folks. Chipper and helpful, and just full life in a way that people back home weren’t. They deserved to go home, and if I had any say in it, they couldn’t ask for a finer escort. 

“So you hear about Horner’s newest proclamation?” Piped up Colonel Jackson, the rest of us just leaned in for the old-timer’s sweeping words. 

“We’re to keep a, and I quote: ‘Professional and emotional detachment from our non-human, non-aligned colleagues.’ Now just what the fuck do you think of that?” 

He looked around the table, Humans and Graschick and even a few wayward aliens adopted by Earth. We all shared a round of witches cackles at the idea that we oughta self segregate for our own good. 

“You know I really shouldn’t allow this kinda talk.” I said very seriously. “I know Horner’s a tight-ass. But he’s alright deep down, he’s done right by us Destroyer Jockeys, even got priority mail through for our non-com’s just before we left, he made sure our contractors got their mail home early. He didn’t have to do that. He deserves you all to at least give him a chance.” 

Shepherd spoke next. 

“When I reported in for my assignment he told me flat out that he didn’t want me.” 

“You looked in the mirror? Nobody wants you!” Yelled an NCO from the back. 

“Fuck Off Harkin!” Shepherd shot back to the sound of yet another round of laughs. “But seriously, he took me aside and told me flat out, if it were his decision I would’ve been shot for what I pulled.” 

“Hey Shepherd.” Called out lieutenant Sarah Silverman, one of Shepherd’s new subordinates for the voyage. “They went to town on Civies, they got what was coming. You remember that. I know the rest of us will.” 

And that was no idle threat. Silverman stood at six foot six and weighed 280 pounds, to say the least she stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the Task Force. And she knocked out one of my Ensigns when he made an off comment at her, but Puella needed a kick in the teeth anyhow. Silverman took her two weeks of confinement like a big girl, no problems from either ever since. Had Shepherd not hit it off right when they met, god knows what the rest of us would’ve been in for. Feuding Marines were dangerous enough with ground under your feet, none of us needed that kinda trouble on a spaceship. 

A buzzer rang out and every last one of us quickly stamped out our cigarettes, downed the last of our drinks, and were all off at once to do our jobs. Galy’Frin raced off alongside the engineers to get the Beacon’s disentanglement figured out. Shepherd and her Marines followed just behind to provide some muscle to the problem solving department. Colonel Jackson downed his coffee so fast he burned the shit out of his tongue, and said as much to anyone who would listen. Me, I went off aboard a shuttle to the Penrose to get back in the Captain’s Chair. 

My XO vacated my seat as soon as I was on the deck. Soon as everyone was at ease we settled into a new parking orbit around the Beacon. Our shuttle departed back to the ChainBreaker sending over plasma cutters and industrial printers, alongside our Chief Engineer to solve a particularly finicky computer issue that was causing delays upon delays. The shuttle had just detached from our docking port when all hell broke loose. 

A ship appeared a few hundred thousand kilometers off the our prow. Every ship in the fleet had computerized guns trained on target within seconds, our Combat AI strained against its leash to put warheads on forehead. ECM systems began firing off countermeasures in case they’d launched anything we couldn’t see, 30mm Defense Guns began spinning up to shred anything we could see. 

Shuttles dispersed, the Chainbreaker broke their docking seal and joined formation, their laser batteries primed to start peeling shields and melting armor. Interspecies comms began going back and forth, pre-planned placements for hostile contact were put into action. The Fuji began launching Drone Wings and at last, we sent an Emergency Hailing Frequency on all channels demanding the intruder's identity. 

More ships poured out of FTL spread across a wide area. A Tachyon Pulse from the Fuji confirmed that another 30 ships were coming. I ordered high-detail scans on the closest ships as they began to close the distance at a slow, uneven pace. The response from the ships was even slower, and I counted each agonizing second as those ships got closer and we sat doing nothing. Conventional wisdom in a space fight declared that Initiative was everything, even when Nukes were involved. The side to begin maneuvering first dictated the tempo of the battle, and their opponent would have to either respond or be outmaneuvered.

My officer called back a report on the HD Scans. 

No weapons, save for small, fixed mounted lasers, all powered down and pointing away from us. Shields down across the board. These ships were armed at best with meteor mulchers, they would’ve fallen flat just to Galy’Frin’s Frigates. When the Hail was finally accepted, we got to see just who was dropping in unannounced. I locked into the Fuji’s hail and got a good look at the proceedings. 

The man opposite of Captain Horner was haggard and afraid. An Imperial, but so eaten by starvation and mange that he looked like he might drop dead before a word could leave his lips. His eyes were wide and sunken, darting left and right, presumably looking at something distressing on the bridge of the Fuji. And he was shaking. Like a nervous tick that got out of control, he couldn’t sit still even for a second. 

“This is Captain Horatio Horner, 2nd UN Fleet. Identify yourself and your intentions or you will be fired upon.” 

The man on the other side opened his mouth, exposing bloody gums and missing fangs, criss-crossed teeth in a receding mess. 

“We have been promised passage…” Each word sounded like he was scraping his loose teeth on a chalkboard. He probably hadn’t used his voice in a month by the looks of it. “...we have little food left… our ships are in poor condition…” 

With a sudden burst of energy, he pleaded. 

“Please, take us prisoner if you must! The brand is better than to starve. But, if you’ve any heart, don’t send us away with the filthy Rievers.” 

Horner looked shocked at the man on the other side of the screen. The state of his withering fur, the utter lack of hygiene, and of course, the burning hatred that cut through it all for the Graschick. Horner’s expression hardened for a second, like he was preparing to do something. Then the moment passed, and he looked unmistakably sympathetic. 

“Under Article 21 of the Interstellar UN Charter, I am obligated to render aid to non-combatants. Have your ships maintain position, directions will follow.” 

I couldn’t help but wonder who the hell all these people were, where their ships came from, what their aim was. The Frontier had been scoured of FTL infrastructure for well over two years in some places. How the hell could anyone be out here, other than us? 

•

Good Afternoon Guys, Gals and Enby Pals! I come with a slightly longer than usual chapter, curtesy of me taking so long to actually write the damn thing. Not much else to say with this one so I'll just get on with it.

As always, I hope you all enjoy the story and have yourselves a Wonderful Day!

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SUBJECT NAME: Commander Shepherd, beleaguered UN officer 

DATE: April 2143 CE - 135/3 AoE 

LOCATION: The Edge of the Galivus System 

 

They took my cigarettes. Life wasn’t worth living anymore. 

Instead of thinking about how much I wanted to break into the commissary with a crowbar to get me some cancer sticks, I was looking out the port-side airlock window. Space had a sort of hypnotizing effect when you looked at it long enough, just made you forget all the worries of the world. Looking out, I couldn’t see a single star. The white-grey hull of the UNS Primrose flying alongside us reflected too much light. 

But even dark and featureless, I could still just barely perceive the slightest variations against the near total void. My eyes adjusted, and the Primrose moved in the formation closer to our prow. The brightest galaxies and nearest stars, they shone just bright enough to appear almost like textured imperfections on a dark canvas. Tiny bumps on a map showing mountains. 

Then, we began passing by 11-HJ/77B, an unnamed planet on the edge of the system. We were passing so close that I could make out a single crater taking up probably a third of the surface area we could see, and a lot of it was still obscured behind the horizon. The pale blue interior of the crater was rimmed with black, shadows cast from the far distant sun on mountain ranges that would’ve made Mount Everest look like the tip of a pencil eraser next to a school bus. But at the very sharpest edges, the very peak of those mountains, you could see a tiny blade of pink, a razorwire of color breaking out of the coldest, most depressing place in the system. 

Then, it was covered up by Bradley’s science experiment. A Civilian Cargo Freighter, the ISS Xiaolong, had been torn halfway apart to fit a precious prize. An Imperial FTL HyperBeacon. Of course, we still had to go and get the damn thing, but the work was already started to mount one on a ship. Imperial FTL computations needed a solid exit point to work, the theory was if they just chased after an exit point right in front of them, then the Interstellar Fleets could drag them through the frontier without the need to rebuild the whole Beacon Network just to get our new friends from point A to B. 

It also didn’t hurt that if it worked, we’d gain a monopoly on easy transit throughout the whole frontier. 

Bradley staked so much on the idea he detached the RSV Fuji and her two escort destroyers from the 2nd Fleet to escort the Graschick ships back home. The Fuji was the first of the Interstellar Carriers, CCV-01 out of 05. A command ship first and foremost, it was a tough old beast with overlapping electronic warfare suites and a half dozen 30mm defense guns. Only had a complement of 25 drones though, a little light compared to the Kyoto class’ 40. And she didn’t have any VLS tubes, so the Destroyers and the Drones were our only source of nukes if we ran into trouble. Then there was Galy’Frin’s fleet, just four measly Frigates. But as pathetic as it sounded, those Frigates were still bigger than our Carriers, almost as big as the Heavy Cruisers in the Sol Defense Fleet. Imperial ships were just something else when it came to sheer size. 

I was yanked from the pleasant thoughts of our order of battle by a noise down the corridor. Loud foot steps, too loud to be human, too soft for boots, accompanied with just a faint click. Talons on steel. A Graschick. As it got closer, I could hear chainmail clinking, I heard laughter coming from inhuman lungs, and the growling words that sounded like he was swallowing a mouthful of pebbles. 

Then he saw me. 

“Shepherd! My Friend!” 

God, fucking kill me already. 

Galy’Frin closed the distance with loud thumps, slapping his tail on the deck like an excited puppy. 

“I was hoping to see you one last time before I departed! Oh, and thank you Janice, I can see to the rest.” 

Admiral Bradley’s attack dog just robotically nodded and turned like one of His Majesty’s King’s Guard. She had a stick up her ass that could put a Redwood to shame. 

“Alright Galy,” I said in utter defeat. “What do you want this time?” 

“I want to know why you’re looking so awfully glum. We’re knee deep in-oh, what was that beautiful phrase-Culinary Espionage?” 

“Cultural Exchange.” 

“That’s the one!” 

He’d just been taught how to snap his fingers, and he was loving it. 

“It’s a wonderful thing to learn of foreign worlds and ways. Everyone of your people seems so excited to share, and all they ask in return is questions of their own! So tell me, why do you look quite so defeated?” 

How the hell could an alien understand being homesick? The better part of three years away from home, and now I was being dragged off to god knows where for another five. I wanted to see my brother again, he was still just a kid when I left but he’d be a whole ass Man once I got back. Last letter I got from him was eleven months old, said he got a girlfriend and it was serious. The little shit might even have kids by the time I got back, and I was gonna miss it. 

All thanks to my goddamn promotion. 

“I just wanted to go home. After what I pulled planetside I was lucky to be let off with a warning, but since you and H’Rald had to kick up a goddamn fuss now I’m stuck as far as physically possible from where I belong for another five years!” 

Galy looked sympathetic, but I wasn’t having it. I’d let this shit build up over the last few weeks, eating at me day after day, until I just had to let it all out. 

“Christ, I’m gonna miss birthdays, I’m gonna miss graduations, I’m gonna miss my brother’s whole goddamn life! I’m gonna be a stranger to my family once I’m back.” 

I was just ranting and raving at this point, just yelling at the air while Galy looked on, worried sick. 

“And the worst of it is!” I shouted as tears started to fill my eyes, my voice breaking, “I should’ve fucking done better down there. I should’ve stepped up weeks before it got so bad. I should’ve laid down the law as soon as Knight lost his shit, I should’ve… I should’ve…” 

My voice just fell away. I never should’ve let it get so bad. I didn’t want to be seen, least of all by that Goddamn Lizard… who was the only reason I’m still alive right now. If it hadn’t been for him showing up I would’ve died on that freezing rock and Knight could’ve made up whatever story he wanted about the Galivus Massacre. 

I just held a hand to my face, shielding Galy from having to see me fall apart. I was not supposed to allow this to happen. 

“Shepherd, are you alright?” 

I was in no position at all to answer that question. I was just trying my best to breath through my nose and get my shit together. I was a Commander for god’s sake, even if I didn’t want to be. The fact I couldn’t keep it together was just pathetic. It was my job to have my shit squared away, project confidence and competence. 

None of that was happening. 

Galy just stood there, not really sure what to do, spinning in place and stuck between calling for help and reaching out himself. In the end, he made a decision. 

He stood right next to me, put a hand on my shoulder, and started humming. It sounded like a lullaby. I couldn’t hardly breathe and I couldn’t hardly see, but I could keep track of the melody. Listing up and down, an easy, mellow tune. It wasn’t harsh like his language usually was, it was soft enough that I had to really listen to hear it. My own sobbing got quieter just so I could hear it better, it pulled me away from that god awful spiral and toward something else, something real and present. 

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and just listened. It was such a simple tune that I could’ve joined in at any time. All I had to do was give it a try. So I did. 

Sounded like shit at first, but I kept at it. I wiped away all the snot and tears and really honed in on that melody. Then, slowly, our voices began to harmonize, and the song took a turn. He led us away in a new direction, toward something quiet and something simple. 

I put my arm on his shoulder and we hummed that lullaby until the song fizzled out. A few seconds of complete silence crept up after. Not a noise to be heard for miles, save the sound of his heartbeat and mine. The sound of the air filtration system kicked in, and we were both back to reality. 

“Feel better?” 

I nodded. 

“Good! I’m glad! Nothing a smidgeon of jolly cooperation can’t solve!” 

God I fucking hated him. Couldn’t have asked for a better friend.  

“I’m afraid this is where I must leave you. I know, I know, whatever shall you do in my absence. I can only promise our parting shall be temporary, or as temporary as I can make it. Fare thee well my dearest friend!” 

He bowed, stripping his green scarf and holding it out while his other hand was flat over his chest. 

“But before I go, take this.” 

He held out his scarf. 

“So that all Graschick may know you as a friend of our people. Or at least this wayward scoundrel!” 

A docking umbilical on the other side of the airlock sealed itself into place. With a hiss, the atmosphere began to equalize in the cramped connective tube between our Destroyer and the Graschick Frigate. Even just getting a glimpse through the window, that ship looked like a pile of turrets and gun batteries. Our Destroyers only had one or two 205mm Coilguns for emergencies, and of course anywhere from a pair to a dozen VLS tubes stuffed full of nukes. 

The airlock opened, Galy’Frin clicked the talons on his feet against the steel floor and seemingly saluted with his tail. A small party of Graschick and Humans greeted him as the doors opened, ushering him through. First I’d seen of the exchange crews, apparently there were a few Graschicks on the Fuji as well. 

Then he was gone. The airlock closed behind him, and the Graschick Frigate ChainBreaker disconnected its umbilical, slowly maneuvering away until it stopped taking up most of the airlock window. Then it became smaller than my arm, then smaller than my hand, and smaller than just one finger, and when it was barely more than a speck, no brighter than any of the stars behind it. 

  

SUBJECT NAME: Captain Horatio Horner, Commanding Officer of the RSV Fuji of the 2nd UNAF Interstellar Fleet

DATE: April 2143 CE - 135/3 AoE 

LOCATION: Still The Edge of the Galivus System 

 

When I left Earth back in November I really didn’t think I’d be escorting aliens home. It was honestly a bit of a shock when Bradley gave the order to join them in orbit. But since then, they’d proven to be nothing but friendly, courteous and happy to help. 

Which was exactly why I didn’t trust them. 

They were apparently stranded on this side of the Frontier thanks to the 1st Fleet tearing a bloody patch across former Imperial territory. But they sure didn’t act like they had no real way home. If we hadn’t offered them a hand back to their own territory, I really don’t know what they would’ve done. I couldn’t see them just braving the near decade long journey, not while our ships were faster in this mess of a Frontier we’d conquered. 

Speaking of, last I heard elements of the 1st Fleet were being broken up into task forces to make contact with the rest of the Imperial Colonies. Let them know about the change in management and all that. Couldn’t help but imagine their smug little faces when they realized who they were gonna be paying their taxes to from here on out. 

Much as I would’ve liked to see that, I had a job to do and that job was sending the Graschicks right back where they came from. Good thing we were on the same page about it. But they seemed to be cajoling for something more. Their leader managed to convince Admiral Bradley to let a few of their crew aboard my ship, a fact which I protested at length. When my concerns were overruled I made goddamn sure that the xenos couldn’t get their claws on anything important. (A minor miracle given how important everything is on a space ship) 

Now I was juggling the twenty lizards on my crew, assigning them to the mess hall or hydroponics or shuttle bay maintenance. Anything to keep them the hell away from our Flight Deck and our Defense Guns. I wasn’t too worried about them finding out about our Electronic Warfare Systems, I doubted they could figure out what it did anyway. Our munitions magazines on the other hand were under guard and armed at all times. The Marines stationed in the powder rooms had orders to use deadly force if one of them got too close. 

If they got their hands on nuclear weapons and reverse engineered them, well I doubt I’d live to see just how colossally bad it turned out. 

“Status of the fleet?” I asked, seeing that we’d crossed out into the Oort Cloud. 

“All ships report green. Solar interference has cleared, navigational telemetry is operating at full efficiency and we’re ready for a tachyon pulse.” 

“Spin up the pulse generator and find us a winner.” 

The tachyon pulse ripped through the star system in an instant, immediately giving us information on every ship and planet nearby. A few minutes later, it began picking up interstellar bodies, rogue planets, comets, star flung detritus. But what we were after was a return on an Imperial Beacon. We’d turned the ISS Xiaolong inside out to fit a beacon inside it. Once we actually had the beacon on hand it would be like driving a steam locomotive through a dog door, but we were standing thirty eight light years from Earth! My Dad was born before we’d even figured out how to break the light-speed barrier. If anyone in the galaxy could figure it out, it was gonna be a Human. 

“We have a positive return.” 

“Time on target?” 

“A four day journey, the Graschick ships should be able to keep pace with us if they lock onto the Beacon.” 

“Excellent. Forward the coordinates and as soon as we get a response I want the fleet skipping photons, understood?” 

“Yes Sir, forwarding coordinates now.” 

The Lizards gave a positive reply barely thirty seconds later and began spinning up their own FTL drives. They gave off a faint glue glow as tachyon particles began coalescing around their prows. Our destroyers on the other hand didn't give off any visible signs of impending FTL transit at all, but just hearing the drive spin up onboard the Fuji made me mourn for the poor ears of the crews of the Primrose and the Rammstein. Like an old steam engine, it began as a slow chug that got faster and faster until it was more like an undulating hum, a loud circular noise so violent that that made your teeth chatter and your vision go blurry. The Graschick ships left first, a blade of light showing off their trajectory as they hurtled through space a whole lot faster than the photons they were giving off. The Primrose on the other hand just disappeared, no visible wormhole or flash of light, I just blinked and the ship was gone. Then the Rammstein, then the Xiaolong, then us. 

Everything went quiet. For a few seconds you couldn’t even hear the engines. Human perception needed just a minute to catch up to the change, but when it did it brought a wave of nausea with it. I doubled over, right alongside half the Bridge Crew, and within just a few seconds the feeling was gone and we could hear the engines again. The FTL drive was spinning down, and it wouldn’t be needed again until we left this compressed, pocket dimension. Until we reached our projected exit, we were just cruising along with our standard maneuvering thruster packs. The large, high performance thrusters were fitted to either end of the hull on UN warships, good for rapid braking in combat maneuvers. But they took up so much mass that our hulls had to be deeply asymmetrical to make everything fit. And then of course there was the ugly slatted armor that gave our ships their… lets be polite and say Distinctive look. 

We sent out a confirmation signal and the rest of the UN ships responded in good order. The Graschick were nowhere to be seen, but that was hardly unexpected, they were still out in real-space, battering through physics with nothing more than dumb brute force. 

Four days and three hours later, we’d have traveled to the next closest star system. The Beacon was orbiting a comet in loose orbit around a lonely Red Dwarf star, sort of a quick rest stop just outside of Galivus proper. Chamberlain and the First Fleet must’ve missed it in their initial sweep of the surrounding area. Lucky for us in hindsight, but it did leave the question open for just how many of those beacons were left behind. 

But that wasn’t important right now. Our job was easy. Just jump in, weld the Beacon to the Xiaolong, and get out. Easy peasy. What could possibly go wrong?

Good Evening, Morning, or Afternoon! I decided to make a slight formatting change whenever the PoV changes, hopefully it should make things a little more readable. I'll also be including both Human and Imperial Dates side by side from now on to avoid confusion. (Probably a bit late given that both plotlines are taking place at the same time now, but oh well)

As always, have yourselves a wonderful day and I hope you enjoy the story!

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SUBJECT NAME: Minor Lord T’Losk, Head of the T’Losk Household 

DATE: Early 135/3 AoE - January 2143 CE 

LOCATION: Myarkia Primaris, McNamara Estate 

 

I was alone. 

I tried to smoke, to strike a match, but my hands wouldn’t hold the matchstick. I tried to pack my pipe with my favorite brand of rock reed, only for the dried herbs to fall through my shivering fingers. I tried to calm my breathing, but found my lungs would have none of it. I tried to look Sarah in the eye, and saw only the floor at my feet. 

I was alone, regardless of how many people surrounded me. 

Accusation, betrayed confession, and worst of all unwarranted forgiveness, I’d heard it all in those last hours. I had failed my charges, whole families whom I’d cared for since my flight from Earth. I’d made a vow to keep them safe, I made sure they were treated as all people should be. But, I brought them into my schemes, accessories on a stage meant to kindle the dear Lord Gripe’s frustrations, and now they were dead. 

I had failed them. 

With a snap of her fingers beside my ear, I was brought back to reality. Sarah offered me a plate of food, of eggs with runny yolks, gox cutlets crusted with golden breadcrumbs and reddened with spices, toast with grape jelly spread, and black puddings of a much more personally nostalgic variety. 

“I don’t deserve this.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

How could one argue with that? 

So we ate. We ate until our bellies hurt and then we kept on eating. Sarah washed her plate down with a crystal chalice of spiced wine. She poured me a cup knowing full well that I abhorred the taste and effects of alcohol, and she knew just as well that I would share her drink anyway. It hit my gut like a rock and my head like a boulder. My race just never seemed to agree with wine, but the taste could make me forgive and forget. 

“We know his name now.” Sarah said, breaking the silence. “We know he’s Craven's father.” 

The implication made the sweetly aftertaste of wine turn sour on my tongue. The loss of so many was already horrible enough, but to put a knife in the back of our premier turncoat? 

“He made a vow of pacifism, disbanded his armies and sold his private fleet. What good is he to us as a General who refuses to kill anyone?” 

What good was he to us now? He was the son of Gripe, and even under alias he remained a close asset of the Emperor. He threatened me as the Emperor’s Right Hand for Harvestor’s sake, that’s not a boast most could live to regret. But to get to Gripe, we needed leverage. 

“We’ll hold him hostage then. Gripe will come for us, and we’ll lure him into a trap.” I said lowly, feeling a bitter knot twisting tighter. “To think Craven sought us out in all this.” 

With a last drink of wine I emptied my cup, and placed it back down so gently as to not make a sound. 

“Think he’d come if we asked?” 

“No need.” A voice came about from behind us, the man of the hour himself, Lord Craven dressed in red. 

“I’ll do it myself.” 

I felt ashamed that our scheming was so easily uncovered, but now that our mark was volunteering, it seemed only right to ask. 

“Are you certain you want to do this? He’s your father.” 

He answered with a look, just a glance, but one filled with an orphan’s sorrow. 

“I am under no illusions. But neither is he. We are both to blame for much of the suffering that goes on in this country we share, it’s only fitting that the both of us should be swept up in trying to fix it all. I’ll send him a message, I’ll meet him myself, and I’ll kill him.” 

Well that was that then. 

I felt like I could breathe for the first time in days. I never imagined this arrangement with Craven would gain us an assassin. A benefactor perhaps, someone we could plunder for his estate’s money. I suppose that made me the fool for doubting his resolve. We had both born witness far too late the crimes we were guilty of endorsing, crimes for which we were both willing participants. Had I not been an equal, willing plunderer in the battle for Earth, I would never have endangered the people I failed today. But then, I also would never have seen the horrors of our country so clearly. Perhaps I’d still be blindly, eagerly following in the footsteps of tyranny for what profit it might allow me. 

I could at least thank Craven for taking on this burden, but what profligate would dare to thank a man for volunteering to murder his own father? 

“I appreciate you doing this.” Said McNamara,  showing that she very much was that kind of profligate, and hardly shy about it.

Craven, bless his black beating heart, took no notice. Too consumed with his own self inflicted angst to acknowledge the compliment, even if it was a rather rude one. 

Sarah took Craven’s shoulder in hand, keeping him stable on his feet as her next carelessly chosen words were uttered. 

“Just make sure it hurts. He’s the last of the High Lords who led the charge on Earth. I’ll sleep easier knowing he suffered the same as the rest of us.” 

Craven could not even meet her singular eye, he only nodded while looking at the floor. 

“That’s settled then.” I said with a start. “I need to leave. My charges were killed to get your father’s secret. They deserve a hero’s funeral, each and every one. I shall not let them be forgotten.” 

•

SUBJECT NAME: Lord Craven, Son of Lord Gripe 

DATE: 135/3 AoE - 2143 CE 

LOCATION: Myarkia Secundus, Militia Training Grounds 

 

I held my sword forward, a single downward slice. That was all it would require. The powered mechanism crackled to life, bolts of electricity sprouted like angry fingers from the blade’s edge. The guard kept my own fingers from being charred, and as I held it, the edge began to glow the characteristic blue that Powered Blades were known for. It hummed, the steel became obscured by the electric emanations and the underlying color of the metal in my hands began to shift. The hum turned to a whistle as I swiped up and then down.  

I had only taken a life with a powered blade only once before, in a duel for the hand of a woman whose name I’d already forgotten. We each drew up, intent to fight until first blood and perhaps to the death if that was what was needed. It ended quickly. He misjudged a step and I stabbed forward, catching his collar. I thought he would live at first, we all did, he even congratulated me in those last moments before the horrific burns beneath his vest had done their damage. Blood pooled about his belt, he stumbled back, and that was that. It was the first time I’d ever killed a man, and for all the horrors I’ve inflicted since, it still sticks to the walls of my memories. We were both just boys, barely more than playing, the woman we fought over was a classmate. She cried for him, and I haven’t the decency to remember her goddamned name. 

I wanted to be punished when I went home, feeling that I’d ruined one of the rare days I could spend with my Father. Instead he just told me that it was a solved matter, that he’d let nothing ruin our fun while he was there. I was overjoyed just to know that I could spend the day with him uninterrupted, unimpeded by my crime. But now I could see it all so clearly. He’d swept away a crime as though it never happened. None spoke of it ever again, and the woman who I’d proposed to, she disappeared. Where would I be today if I’d paid for that crime? Where would I be today if I’d paid for all of my crimes? I’d butchered slaves at Grymwyrm, I’d broken whole peoples at Ghormyr and Hipolita, and only by chance had I not left another massacre in my wake at Myarkia. That more than anything was what drove us all forward now. The people of Myarkia had overthrown their Lords in open rebellion, of course they would never be satisfied back under the lash and the chain. 

I powered off my sword, the blue slowly faded but the heat of it remained. Once sheathed it almost burned my side, excitedly reminding me of its killing power. At my opposite side I drew my pistol, a work of art from another time. I placed a plasmatic charge within the firing chamber, and slammed the cylinder shut. I took aim, careful of my breath, a light squeeze of the trigger and… boom. 

A long, unbreakable string of fire speared its way to a waiting target, leaving a perfect rope of oily smoke in its wake. The Target, a plate of solid steel, was blasted cleanly into half melted thirds. I opened the firing chamber, and the bright red, angry, sizzling charge casing was flung clear. I closed the firing chamber on empty, and took aim once more, imagining the man who brought me into the world at the far end of my gun sight. 

My pistol clattered to the ground. The strength of my arm failed me. I could not even imagine it. 

One of McNamara’s servants entered the room, and in an instant I made myself presentable. 

“We’re leaving in an hour. Now’s your last chance to back out.” 

The temptation burned a hole in my chest. I opened my mouth to say… something. Whatever it was, it died in my throat. I could no longer stand by and allow my country to destroy everything it touched. 

I picked my pistol up off the ground, holding it against my chest. He gave it to me when I was just a boy, the very same day I murdered my classmate for no good reason at all. 

“I will be there.” I said with an uncertain voice, wobbling on the edge between silence and screams. Then, with far greater determination, I holstered my pistol and said as certain as steel. 

“It’s time for me to take responsibility for all I’ve done.” 

I left the training furrow and stepped out into the sun. The grounds were studded with barracks and storage halls and firing ranges. The last major field exercises were being carried out in preparation of the betrayal. Much of the fighting was expected to take place in the close confines of warship halls. Long plasmatic rifles would be impractical, and so shortened carbines had been procured at short notice. The Myarkain Militiamen marched in light field plate normally, but a heavier harness would be needed where we were going. And more to the point, we’d need small and concealable arms for our infiltrators. 

Neither McNamara nor T’Losk had been idle these last years. And I’d only been trusted with the full scope of their plans quite recently. But seeing their amassed army at work, it put my old retainers well and truly to shame. In barely ten years time they’d managed to gather a fleet of some three hundred ships, all of them armed, and trained a professional militia half a million strong. But these were not the days of yore where armies in the tens or hundreds of millions strolled casually across the stars. Now a mere five hundred thousand motivated soldiers with good arms and better training might just be enough to conquer a planet in these uncertain times. We were taking most of them with us. That was how important the work was. A gamble to be sure, and one which left Myarkia vulnerable. McNamara had made many enemies coming as far as she had, but if it meant lopping off the Emperor’s Right Hand, well that would make it worth our while. 

Afternoon, Evening or Morning folks! Here's another installment of my horribly bloated and magnificently melodramatic excuse of a story! This is actually a turning point I've had in my head since before I even started writing the Galivus Arc, with Lord Gripe (in disguise) finding the destroyed space station and feeling feelings about it. Well, it only took me three years to get here. At this pace I oughta be wrapping up by about the time the Starship Enterprise begins its five year mission.

As always, I hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful rest of your day!

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High Lord Gripe (Alias: F'Raldin The Silver Mask) - 135/3 AoE [2143 CE]  - Frakmus Waystation Ruins 

-

The Station was gone. All signs of civilization and progress and life, all of it was dead and gone. An incredibly strong radiation field kept us from even getting close to the Station. Ships were dead in space, having dumbly drifted out of the Rad Fields, and yet even these were too greatly contaminated for any close inspection. The best we could do was observe from a distance.  

The hulls of the ships had decayed, the ionization was so intense that it actively wore down the outer hulls. Internal compartments were worn as though by burrowing mites, pockmarked with holes, every imperfection exaggerated to absurdity, until the hull simply split and the atmosphere violently vented. The remains would be irrecoverable for hundreds of years, cursed to never meet the Harvester past their last moments, nor to give of themselves to the next generation as the ground made them useful once more in death. 

To see such horror done to a person was intolerable, but to see it done to hundreds of thousands? It produced within me the urge to vomit. This crime demanded accountability, justice done for savagery. I'd thought my mercy upon their world would be graciously accepted as the peace offering it was, but clearly these creatures needed to be educated. The Lessons we wrought upon their cradle were obviously insufficient, a mistake I would not make a second time, not in the face of this betrayal. 

"My lord... your orders?" 

I felt in my bones a weariness, a weight that grew day by day, which I’d only now noticed. A terrible, festering knot in my stomach that made breathing a challenge and standing a dare. I felt like the beginning of the end was staring me in the face. Like my country was on the edge of collapse, and our every achievement was coming at once to ruin. I felt like I’d failed him*.* 

I could not let that happen. 

My every sacrifice was for his sake. Every mountain moved, every culture shattered, every people broken, every link in the chain of Imperial Progress was forged on his behalf. I could not fail again. 

“We Shall March, and we shall not stop until humanity has been destroyed.” 

A record breaking drive from Frakmus halfway to Myarkia, between the Silik Divide and through the Orphean Nebula. Beyond the ruins of Braggart’s Mooring and to the Imperial Core, where Chattel and Taxes flowed more freely than water down river. We moored to a lattice of silver satellites all connected by the most delicate strings of light and steel. Each strand of connective tissue was, of course, several meters thick, only distance allowed me to see it as a work of art. But there were far less beautiful things in this galaxy, and this mesh of interlocking, interconnected orbiters carried with it the aspect of civility and progress. The fact that it existed at all was a testament to the rightness of our cause. 

The surface was far less lovely, the people filthy, ragged, desperate, and dangerous. A host of guardsmen battered the rabble aside, and the lordlings of this fetid land greeted me with my well earned honors. I’d served this Empire for sixty five years, though the stains of my past allowed me to only garner respect for half of it, even half was enough to make kings bow. 

The Princelings were all too happy to show their finest stocks, though they could not hide the smell nor the scars of irons. I made great promises to them, that my campaign would bring forth a great wealth of new subjects, and that they would have the first pick of the fresh litter. Blinded at once by my hollow promise, they greedily offered forth the greater majority of not only their Flesh Stocks, but ships and weapons in our support. A modest improvement of my meager force, but against Humanity, any advantage was an utter necessity. A fact I had learned the hard way. 

My next goal was even less pleasant. Cozying up before a local lordling prized for a reputation of honesty, kindliness, and connections. None hated him, and most he knew called him friend. Having broken bread with some half the middle nobility of the Empire, he was quite the oddity. Most who knew so many became mired in the petty wars between the princes, favoring one side or another and quite inevitably choosing poorly. Such men did not live long. 

I could not fathom a man without enemies, but if my work was to be done properly then I’d need just such a man. 

“A mighty fleet.” My host had said, a man by the name of T’Losk. “Seven hundred warships, near half of them being ships of the line. A fine assortment, no doubt at all.” 

He did not stand to greet me, nor did he offer me a place to sit. He remained seated himself and smoking some fetid herb or other, letting green billows hang about his shoulders, emanating both from his pipe and from his arrogant grin. He knew I needed him. If he was to be useful then he needed to be fully aware and clear sighted as to what we faced. So I took up an empty seat, placing myself to his eye level, bridging the gap between us, and told him the truth of the matter. 

“Seven hundred ships will not be enough for the war I am charged with. This must be a rapid extermination. Any delay could see us routed, never to return. The fleets promised by these flesh peddlers will not be enough.” 

“So then, you want me to find you more banners for your next victory?” 

He caught on quickly. Good. 

“A thousand ships is what I will need. Any less, and we shall not return. That is no excuse, that is a fact.” 

He stroked his muzzle in a nearly convincing facsimile of deep thought. He seemed somehow familiar, though I could not place how. His features were that of a younger man, perhaps no older than 60. His home was uncommonly large for one of his standing, with a staff of at least two hundred by my reckoning, many serving other guests at the same time as my meeting. The house was full of life, of eminently pampered pretenders and the servitors bent to their whim. Children played and pets roamed free, food was left out in great platters and smoke, oh so much smoke! It flavored the entire occasion with a bitter, but unmistakably expensive smell. 

The whole place held the air of extravagance, an air which dissipated upon any close inspection. The facade was skin deep at best. In his halls he hung great carpets of intricate pattern work, but up close they were falling right apart and were quite sapped of their color. In his chambers and rooms there stood suits of armor, but poorly made, inarticulate, and utterly unfit for actual use. His servants, who were many, were also quite poorly trained. One of them had scampered off to fetch a glass of wine on my behalf, but an hour had passed and the wretch was still nowhere to be found. I’d given up hope of ever tasting T’Losk’s famed Myarkian Wines before the servant at last appeared, only to hand me a glass of spiced ale. 

At last, my host turned and said with a sly grin, “I do believe I can accommodate you, Lord F’Raldin. You need ships and armies and I just happen to have the Lord of Myarkia in my debt. She has at her command three hundred ships, and some of the best militia money can buy. All of it can be yours, but first, I have a demand.” 

I felt the urge to draw my pistol and end the meeting then and there. Old Age had not made me any kinder. 

“This is no time for demands. I need your ships, now stop gloating and name your price.” 

“Very well then. I want to know your relation to Lord Craven. I’ve crossed paths with him several times and have always left worse off than before. He’s a sour man at his best. Do you have any clue where he got it from?” 

I could not betray any hint of favoritism, not even for my only son. 

“I hardly know him.” I lied. 

“But you took him in the moment you were crowned! The bastard of a known coward, the pitiful Lord Gripe who left Earth with his tail tucked and his honor stained. If you hardly know him, then why take the risk of his father’s dishonor spreading to you?” 

I could not stop myself from glaring. The question hung unanswered. Did he know who I was? He smoked his pipe, savoring the silence. The fool was playing with me. His arrogance reached its crescendo. 

“Well then, if you won’t answer I shall have to content myself to guess. But that can wait for any time. For now, I hear there’s a rather ugly thing hiding under that mask of yours, whether it’s your face or some horrible scar, I want to know which. So, if you want your army, then all you have to do is take that mask off.” 

My patience shattered. I rose from my seat and pulled T’Losk up by his collar. I battered the smug look clean off his face and threw him back into his seat. Blood dripped from his mouth, and he became acutely aware that he’d gone too far. His guests looked on in shock, appalled by such an act of wanton violence. If only they knew the sacrifices I made every single day to keep them so utterly protected from the cruelties of the universe… 

“Do you have the slightest clue who I am? I am not the kind of man you negotiate with. If I willed it, I could have this whole damned building razed at once, and none would have the power to stop me! I am the Emperor’s right hand, the sword that cuts down traitors.” 

T’Losk, shaken but undeterred, simply said. 

“E-Even so, my request stands.” 

I felt my hand traveling toward my holster. A feeling I was well familiar with, and in that moment, it was almost nostalgic. 

“Just tell me your damned name and the Myarkian Fleets are yours!” 

My hand stopped, and I relented. If that was what he was after, then so be it. 

“I am Lord Gripe. I am the man you slandered as a coward. I fought the Humans in their very home, and this mask hides the shame I accrued by surviving. I murdered a superior and rallied millions away from that fetid heap as the Humans set their own world afire. And because of the shame I brought upon our country, I need an army to fix my mistake.” 

I had not taken the mask off before another man in thirty years, save for him. The brand showed a spiraling streak of bare, furless skin. A permanent reminder that hurt every day, reminding me forever of who I had failed. T’Losk just looked on in shock. His eyes went wide, his maw hung open, and his voice abandoned him. I turned to face the leering crowd, each of them gossiping at my name’s implications. At the secret shame the Emperor must have brought upon himself to keep me alive for so long. T’Losk had sealed their fate. He saw where my eyes had turned, and recognized within them what I was about to do. None could be allowed to know who I was. 

The pair of us met on a hill outside his mansion not twenty minutes later, covered in soot and watching his home burn to the ground. The haunting screams of his servants and dinner guests were carried on the hills and would echo out for miles in every direction. 

“I have paid the price for your cooperation.” I said with a snarl, the mask felt heavier than it ever had before. “You will uphold your end of the bargain, or I will find someone who can.” 

-

Good Morning, Evening, or Afternoon my friends! I was a little hungry writing this one and I think it shows. Have yourselves an excellent day, and I hope you enjoy!

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Civilian Jane Shepherd - March 2143 - Galivus Orbit

Ya know, when I really think about it, getting discharged has been about the best damn thing to happen to me since I got conscripted back in ‘38. All the weight and responsibility of rank, I could just leave it all behind. It felt like throwing off a hundred feet of industrial chain, I could breathe normally again, and it was a feeling I hadn’t even realized I was missing. And best of all, I was going home. 

God damn it, just thinking about it made me realize I hadn’t been home in two and a half years. I last saw that blue motherfucker in October of 2140. I looked around the bunk room and realized it felt better sleeping on a Destroyer than it did planetside. I hadn’t seen home in so long I couldn’t even remember what my apartment looked like. It just wouldn’t be real until I got back and saw it with my own eyes again. But that was the kicker! I was going home, and I was leaving orbit in early April. Another 5 months in a sardine tin and I was free. 

In the meantime, I took out a Black Castle cigarette fresh from the commissary. That pack still had the plastic wrap on it all the way back from
Earth. I brought that little thing up to my face and gave the [No Smoking] sign above the door a smug, satisfied look of ‘you can’t tell me what to do.’ Everything was going alright. 

Then my door opened. 

I was on my feet and saluting before I even saw who it was. “Shepherd.” Said Admiral Goddamn Bradley, eying up my bedwraggled mess of a bunk, and the cigarette in my mouth. “I see you’re making yourself at home.” The man looked like a square piece of quarry rock just got up and put on a starched uniform. Might’ve looked professional too, if it weren’t for the coffee stains on his sleeve. 

“Yes Sir.” I said, before realizing that I didn’t need to call the old fart Sir anymore! I almost laughed about it too, before remembering that it’s best to not burn bridges. But yeah, I was free! I was living the fucking dream! 

“You’re being reinstated” 

Oh. 

Those words hit harder than that goddamn bullet I took planetside. I just stared straight ahead, slack-jawed and shaken while he rolled out a well prepared speech. 

“We just finished up our last round of interviews from the people down below. The new Governor put in a few choice words, and the Graschick Captain as well. It’s made us reassess our decision regarding your overall involvement in the massacre. You’ve been officially cleared of all charges and are being put back into service effective immediately.” 

My cigarette fell out of my mouth and rolled across the floor. All I could think to say was, “I’m not going home?” 

He looked at me with this disappointed look, like he expected better of me for whatever reason. 

“If you ask me, I don’t for a minute believe you deserve to wear this uniform. Not after everything that happened down below. But, you’ve got enough people vouching for you that I’m open to the idea that I’m wrong. Don’t make me regret this decision, Commander.” 

He held out a fresh uniform and a file with my next assignment. On top of it all was a Marine Commander’s pin, a silver-blue pair or sabres. Only I wasn’t a Commander. I tried to say something but he’d already turned away, disappearing out the door and slamming it shut for good measure. 

Reinstatement and a Promotion. I couldn’t think of anything worse. 

I collapsed onto the bed, banging the fuck out of my head on the upper bunk’s support bar. Should’ve known better than to trust the bunk. I nursed the back of my head and opened the file. Inside was the full record of my dismissal, plus a few additions. 

“Huh, I guess H’Rald’s a governor now.” I said, before flipping to the last page. My marching orders. I was going to one of the Graschick homeworlds. I wouldn’t see Earth again for as much as five years. 

Without even meaning to, my hands just balled up into fists, white knuckling the crinkling paper in my hands, and threw it away. My breathing wasn’t quite working right and my eyes went bleary. I folded up into my bunk and tried real hard to pretend it wasn’t real, that I was still going home. I was glad most of the crew was planetside, I didn’t want a single living soul to see me fall to pieces the way I did. 

 I don’t particularly know how I ended up in the mess hall with a bottle of distilled vinegar, but I was huddled to that bottle like my life depended on it. I also couldn’t tell you how I’d gathered the strength to drink half the fucking thing either, but being criminally short of anything alcoholic on the ship, this was as close as I could get to drunk. I’d regret it in the morning about as much anyhow. 

“Morning Shephard.” Oh, it was that Doctor, or Colonel, or whichever it was. What was his name again?Right, Jackson! 

“What’cha having?” He asked, and sounded sincere too. 

I poured a bit in his coffee mug and he recoiled pretty bad when he got a proper whiff. Soon as his wits returned to him he asked, real politely too. 

“Miss, the fuck are you drinking goddamn vinegar for?” 

I passed over my reinstatement papers, and my orders.

 “Oh.” That was all he had to say. 

He set down his now properly fucked cup of coffee and reached over to pat me on the back. 

“I know it’s not what you wanted, but if you could wrangle the scaly bastards for two months straight I’m more than happy to have you watching my back.” I hadn’t felt this kinda support since I left Earth. My Dad grabbed my shoulder just like this before I left Luna and told me to make him proud. I couldn’t stand the idea of seeing him again, I didn’t have a goddamn clue what he’d think of me, if he knew what’d happened and what I’d done. 

My bottle hit the floor.

 “Shepherd?” I puked up everything I’d drank, and the awful stuff wasn’t any better going out than in, not after a half hour fermenting in stomach acid. He just patted me on the back again while I was soaking in my puddle, my throat desperately burning. 

“I get this’s been hard on you Shepherd, but I need to know right now if you’re gonna get your shit together or not.” I tried to give him my response, but I just puked a little more. When I could speak, I weakly said, “I’ll be fine tomorrow. I just… I really thought I was going home. Needed to get it out of my system is all.”

I wiped my face clean with my sleeve and straightened up. “When do we leave?”

“Next month. Admiral Bradley’s got a special project ongoing and needs one of the civilian ships to do it. If it works, we should be homeward bound come Spring of ‘45.”

I coughed twice, both times feeling like I’d hacked up a straight razor. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Well from what the Graschick have told me, Revnant’s Moor has some real lovely oceans, they turn bright neon blue in the summers and go a pale pink at the height of winter. Something to do with the ocean’s plankton population exploding, then collapsing as the year progresses and the oceans get hotter.” 

I groaned and felt some noxious shit in my stomach try very hard to climb up my esophagus, only for me to swallow it back down. “So you’re cozying up with the Lizards now?”

“What can I say? I’m a people person.”

Reiver Lord Galy’Frin - May 2143 CE - Galivus Orbit

  To say I was gratified to see H’rald taking my side would sell the whole matter short. In short order she’d marched her way into orbit, quite unhappy as you might imagine, then proceeded to verbally batter the Admiral for his stunning lack of social grace. Though the proceedings might’ve gone down better without the pistol. 

  The Guard outside Bradley’s office had her own armament trained throughout the proceedings, a fact H’rald only appreciated after Bradley had conceded the point, and she made her retreat. There was half a moment where, upon opening the door, she was face first against the barrel of a gun, and far more lives than only hers seemed to flash before her eyes. Bradley called his loyal hound away, and H’rald was let to pass. She stood frozen a while, however, and only moved once urged. 

  I took my own leave of Bradley, thinking the day was more than sufficiently won, though at the cost of straining my ties with the man. But the matter would rest, and I instead focused on how drawn I’d felt to Shepherd the whole time I’d known her. The woman risked her life, and now it seemed her honor as well, to save a people who were her enemy. I could not imagine stooping to so low a level and at such great risk, and never for a race as foul as the Imperials. Her own world had burned when they came, had it not? The stories that reached us told of firestorms to swallow continents, of great flashes of light that wiped armies from the face of their precious Earth. They must have been hatefully aggrieved, for why else would they come out so far?  

I could not square it, and I felt a need to see Shepherd once more to know for certain why she did what she did. And judging by the voracity of Bradley’s tail tucking, I would have plenty of time to ask her. 

I’d spent the next week shuttling between my lead Frigate and Bradley’s Carrier, my own ship being called the Chainbreaker’s Sire, and Bradley’s SRV Charleston. I’m told it was the name of a city in his homeland. Today however, I had the pleasure of dining with humans. 

Since their discovery the reputation they held as masters of cookery was practically unchallenged, at least in this arm of the Galaxy. There might be some of a Lord’s staff or a peasant family of exceptional renown who had a fighting chance of matching them, but such a feat would be against a multi-millenia history of food preparation, and that was hardly fair. 

But such were the thoughts of mine as I sat in their commons and dined with a middle host they called a “Platoon” as we all ate together. The humans here gathered platoons in heaps of 50, with the occasional inclusion of specialists bringing it up to 60. Whatever their method of organizing, they all ate together whenever possible. Today, we feasted on thick slices of a rather sweet softbread, still steaming from the ovens. With the bread we were given a selection of jellies, though not the meat preserve so common to the Empire, it was instead a heavily sweetened preserve of fruits, most usually strawberries or apricots. 

I inquired about their jellies and was told that there was a third flavor made from grapes which had been common until recently. But the fruit itself had gone extinct, and most seemed quite content to blame the Empire for its loss. 

Though the bread was the heartier part of the meal, in flavor it was utterly constituent to the beef stew which accompanied it. Found within that stew, which is a kind of thick soup the humans prize, were great chunks of meat of a tenderness like half melted butter. There were also vegetables floating amidst the menagerie, suspended in a thick base that I could only compare to the delights of a good gravy, perfectly designed for dipping bread into. It was of a brown color, though don’t let that fool you! In smell alone it could drive a man to madness, such was its power. 

With one hand, I was enjoying a sweet treat of softbread topped with fruit preserve. And in the other was a spoon, topped with a chunk of meat the size of my thumb, and covered in its stewings, a thick broth flavored of beef and onions, celery and carrots, salts and peppers and spices galore! In one bite, I tasted apricot sweetness, and in the next a flavor not even Hyalrog could imagine from his throne of bones. 

The humans call such a feeling Heaven, named after their afterlife. A place of absolute bliss and unending plenty, or so they said. My final fate was to meet my own god in a final duel, to be gored upon his horns, and have all my questions answered in my last moment of struggle. The peace of oblivion awaited me when all was said and done. But I could enjoy a little slice of heaven for a while. Hyalrog had awaited my soul for thirty years already, he could wait a while longer. 

Then, as I found myself blessed with good food, I found myself just as blessed with good company. Shepherd appeared from the mass, her own plate stacked high and steaming. I waved her down to my seat and upon recognizing me, she fled to the opposite side of the commons. 

I remember thinking quite clearly, ‘This will not do.’ And so I rose up from my chair and sniffed her out amongst the throng, a task made enormously challenging thanks to the distracting qualities of human cuisine. Following my nose alone would’ve driven me headlong into someone’s plate, likely exceeding the humans’ impressive capacity for tolerance, and likelier still to spell my untimely and grizzly end. 

Thankfully, Shepherd was no challenge to find, her hair was a bright red that quite thankfully stood out from the rest. 

Soon as I’d saddled down beside her I said, “At Last! Tell me, I’ve been curious to know, whatever drove you to aid your enemies on the planet below?” 

Shepherd, with her mouth full of food, glared at me like I’d taken her family hostage and was demanding a ransom before she’d even had breakfast. She put herself to the enormous work of finishing her plate, and as soon as her mouth was unoccupied, she very sternly said. 

“Let me finish this then I’ll tell you.” 

Having been rebuffed, I set my senses to investigating the rest of the room and all the people in it. There were both men and women, which it seemed was the custom of the Humans. Unlike my people they seemed to lack much for dimorphism between the sexes. It made me realize just how low the ceilings were on the Charleston. Had I pointed my snout straight up I’d surely brush the upper plates with my nose. 

The commons itself, called a Mess Hall by the Humans, was an uncomfortably packed place, with only enough room to walk between three long tables provided that everyone was seated. The people sitting at those tables were quite another matter, with some being quite large and even taller than myself, and others being surprisingly small and lithe. Their uniforms differed as well, with those of the ship's crew being a dull greyish blue, and those of the Marines to which I’d become so acquainted being a small-patterned green and tan. Not even their skin or hair color was consistent, as they could range from papery to muddy in complexion, their hair often being short but just as often being styled into tightly twisted rows that lined their heads or even seemingly being quite long but tied into a tight roll and tucked well out of the way, and then of course there were those with seemingly no hair at all. The rarest of the bunch being hair of a flamboyant bright color, which I had to assume was dyed the same as the scales on my face. Though that last category was made up of those who were not wearing any recognizable uniform, which led to my next question for Shepherd. 

“Why aren’t they wearing uniforms? Those ones there, with the colored hair.” 

“They’re civilians.” She said between gulps of her coffee. “My bosses were expecting laid back infrastructure work so they brought on civilian contractors to help out with the labor. None of them were expecting the colony to be in this kinda state. But in just a few weeks, that won’t be your problem anymore. I got my orders yesterday. We’re following you home.” 

“And you’ll be in attendance?” 

She nodded, and I felt utterly revitalized. Who would’ve thought I’d grow so fond of an outsider? 

“You asked why I helped those people down below.” She said. “Do you really want an answer?” 

It was my turn to nod, but without any real weight or import she shrugged. 

“It was just the right thing to do.” 

And with that she turned back to her food, and could not be distracted no matter how hard I tried.

Good morning or evening ladies and germs, I re-wrote this chapter a good seven times and am posting this right before bed. However, with this new chapter comes a slight change. I got a Computer! And that means no more links in the comments! New chapters going forward will still trend toward being fairly short, but now I won't be hassling with Reddit Mobile's spaghetti code every time I hit Post.

Hope you folks enjoy, and I hope you have a Good Day!

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Admiral Bradley - March 2143 - Galivus - 2 weeks after 2nd Fleet's Arrival - Aboard the UNS Charleston

-

I couldn't believe half the shit in my report. It just... it defied all sense of human decency. The Murders, the Hangings, the Mutiny. The folks down there were living in squalor thanks to Knight and his rampage, and we could only barely keep their heads above water with all hands on deck. The idea that one of us could even do something this awful, it just made me sick to my stomach. 

I set my stylus down and sent the file onto the comm station bound for Earth. At FTL speeds and with no mass to slow it down, it should reach home just a few days before Chamberlain and the 1st Fleet. God knows what he’s walking into, and I briefly considered sending him a bit of warning. But instead, I thought back to his report on Framkus, and his claims that they attacked in force upon his entrance into the system. Seeing the devastation on the planet below, it made me just a little skeptical. 

Then there was the issue of the USS Texas doing a disappearing act right as we transitioned to real-space. The Sierra Madre had done a full sweep of the system, and the area around the Oort Cloud. The Texas’ FTL trail just goes cold on our exit. It didn’t make sense. The ship should have left a trail, whether it was in real-space or otherwise, we’d see where it went. But there was just absolutely nothing. Now I was looking at writing 154 letters for the crew’s families. 

A knock on my door startled me, and I checked my watch. Should've known better than to use an antique on mission, the damn thing stopped and I didn't even notice. I wound it to the new time and urged my guest in. Janice opened the door, letting in the Leader of Graschicks, or at least the ones we were sharing an orbit with. 

"Captain Galy'Frin, I take it?" 

"You take it correctly." He said, bowing his head. The new species was a bit on the taller side, and armored in chainmail and bound up in leather and fabric all the way to their tails. Galy’frin’s taloned feet still had a bit of snow on them from the surface. Something I’d noticed though, was that all of them had green scarfs around their necks, and the scales on their faces were brightly dyed with a motley mix of blues. Then there was that sword on his belt. It looked old, rusty, almost like it might fall apart at any moment. When he brought his head back up, he launched right into it. 

"When I first laid eyes on these ships, I truly had my doubts that they belonged to the same Humans who’d thrashed the Empire some decades past. Standing here has laid those doubts to rest. Going by reputation alone, I’m half surprised you decided against shooting us out of the sky.” 

“Well, strange as it may seem, we're in the business of helping people as well as shooting them. Different folks have different needs you see.” 

“Strange or no, it’s been quite the boon for us as we’ve traveled long and far only to be beset by challenges. Your intervention may well have avoided a mutiny among my crew. Needless to say, we’re quite eager to return home.” 

“I don’t doubt that one bit. I’m surprised you’ve stuck around this long.” 

He hesitated just a second before saying. “It seemed only right. But before we depart, I’d like to propose an Alliance.”

At that, I was properly taken aback. “You would?” 

“Yes, indeed! My people are a bastard race, with no allies and many rivals. Our Country is only 70 years old, and in all that time, yours is the first agreeable race we’ve happened across. And I’ve already been shot at by your estranged cousins!” 

“Wait, does that mean… You’ve met other Humans? Where?” 

“On the moon of Myarkia,” He shook his snout and groaned, “A deeply unpleasant place, I remember it being overwhelmingly salty from my brief exposure.” 

“That’s not nearly as important as the fact that they’re still out there at all!” I jumped straight out of my chair and started taking frantic notes. “Galy’frin my friend, this is the first real news we’ve gotten of anyone who was taken. Please, tell me you know more about what happened to them!” 

“I can offer you one better! Travel with me back to my homeworld, and I shall get you an introduction.” 

The thought set my imagination on fire. We left Earth for the good of humanity, to settle colonies where our species might just survive, and the thought of getting our people back was just too good to be true. But then, my enthusiasm caved into itself, and I had to contend with the fact that these people hadn’t seen Earth in almost 40 years. How many of them were born away from home? Would they even look like us anymore? The reports from down below made reference to some kind of horrific breeding program, it was what started the whole massacre. do they even see themselves as human anymore? 

‘We can’t spare the whole of 2nd Fleet.’ I thought to myself. ‘There’s too many unknowns, too many places where all of this could go wrong. But, a single ship might make the difference here. If we could make an alliance with these Imperial Humans, or even just the Graschicks, we could upend the balance of power and insulate Humanity from the horrors of the galaxy. All we need to do is make some friends and leave some good impressions.’ 

I held out my hand and said, “Agreed. The Sierra Madre will escort you back home. In return, we get a meeting with these Myarkian Humans.” 

He looked at my hand for a minute, unsure of what to do. I just about retracted it when it just clicked, he shook my hand almost like he’d been practicing. 

“I’d seen this done once before, but I never thought I’d actually get to try it!” He sounded giddy like a kid. 

“Now that just leaves who will go. Colonel Jackson has plenty of xenological experience, Dr. Garvey has an anthropology degree, he might be of use-” 

“I must insist on Shepherd joining.” 

“What, the Captain? She was discharged from the service for criminal negligence.” 

“SHE WAS WHAT?!” 

-

Provisional Governor H’Rald - May 2143 CE - Galivus 

-

  “The last of the Earth Ships are in orbit. The next wave of colonists is expected to land tomorrow.” D’Brak said. His fur had regained so much of its former luster, his eyes held life once more, and his voice actually sounded like my troublesome cousin once again. 

  “They’ve kept their promise.” He said. “This world is ours again, and you’ve been chosen as its steward.” He spoke slowly, like saying the words aloud would dispel them. “How does it feel?” 

  “How does what feel?” I asked. 

  “To be a true, elected official of a barbarian country.” The sardonism was there, but hollow, and could’ve almost been mistaken for sincerity. 

  “I feel… like the fire in my office could use another log.” J’Sika wasted no time, rising from her desk to tend our little flame. A bit of wood gave way to a surge of embers, and the heat filled out the room all the better. It was a metaphor of course, but the effort was appreciated all the same. Not that I’d ever tell dearest J’Sika. 

  “That’s it?” D’Brak asked again. 

  “Well what do you feel then, cousin. You seemed close to running off into the snow just a few months ago.” 

  He puffed his chest and said, “I feel like I have a chance to make up for my cowardice. To do good for the people here, those that remain, and those yet to come! I feel I’ve seen at last an angle of the barbarians which I can indeed respect, even admire.” 

  “Admire?” I said, incredulity pouring from my words and forming a puddle of doubt on my brand new desk. With one hand raised he said. 

  “I can scarcely believe it myself. But this human I met he… he made me realize something. Something wonderful, both about the world and my place in it. And I shall waste no time in putting this newfound confidence into action.” 

  “You speak such high praise, and yet continue to call our new masters Barbarian in the same breath.” I said. “Care to explain this miniscule hypocrisy?" 

  “No. I do not.” He smiled, and went to his very own desk signing off on a veritable pile of colonial visas and funding requisitions. 

  “Where is your sword by the by? It’s a family heirloom, and a badge of office no less. Is it right to go without wearing it as you tend to your duties?” 

  “The office it signified no longer exists. The same can be said of the conceited fool who wore it. So I gave it to Galy’Frin. He seemed pleased to have a sword, and I was pleased to be rid of it.” 

  D’Brak looked up from his paper work, then spun around to face me clearly and said, “Wasn’t that sword in our family for 400 years?” 

  After a brief attack of the arithmetic, I corrected him. 

  “435, I believe.” 

  He looked at me, all the more dumb founded by my utter lack of interest.  

  “It’s not like it even worked.” I defended. “The powered mechanism was well beyond repair, and the rust was so deeply set that a deep cleaning would take most of the blade with it. Hardly a treasure worth treasuring.” 

  At this, D’Brak threw up his hands and declared, “Harvester take us all, you’ve always been the irresponsible one. And just like that a piece of tangible history goes off in the hands of a pirate, and it wasn’t even pilfered!” 

  It was good to see his sense of entitlement returning. I never liked the meek, hollowed out creature he’d devolved into. To see his old liveliness again, in spite of myself, it gave me some measure of hope that our little world would become something worth fighting for once again. 

  Oh, what I fool I made of myself thinking that. It was always worth fighting for! The dolt I could be when I wasn’t paying attention. 

  My multitool began making a noise. All three of us heard the damnable thing shaking on my table, but none of us had yet quite figured out how the device worked. None of the technicians had the time to show us, and my pride thus far kept me from asking a layman. 

  I looked to read who was attempting to contact me, and was quite frustrated when the lettering was in Mandarin rather than the Esperanto which I’d been (briefly) tutored for. I took up the device in my hand, looking upon its metal corners and protective covering, and then finding along its end a hinge through its width. And opposite of the hinge there seemed to be room for one to pry. Taking the whole thing on faith, I managed to flip open the multitool, and was beset with a miniature keyboard, one covered in symbols I could not decipher, and the ringing continued unabated. 

  J’Sika appeared before me then, helping angel as she always was, and said, “Try the Green button.” 

  “Why that one?” I said as the device grew in anger. 

  “It just seems like it’d work.” 

  I did as she suggested, and no sooner than I had, a horrendously angry voice called out. 

  “H’RALD, I HAVE NEED OF YOU.” That Damnable Cur, Galy’frin! Had I the choice he would never have been allowed to set foot on my planet, nor would he have the privilege to leave with any of his scales! And in spite of my considerable restraint of not skinning him alive when I had the chance, he had the gall to be cross with me?

  “And who are you to speak to me with such disrespect!” I countered, quite angry that I’d been subjected to his loathsome voice without warning. 

  “This is no time for argument woman, the humans have disgraced Shepherd for her part in saving your people!” 

  “THEY DID WHAT?!” The very foundations of the world upon which I stood shook in terror at the coming of my voice. I slammed the device shut, scrambled through my drawer for an old Plasmatic Pistol which I’d never used, and marched directly into orbit to make my displeasure known. 

Greetings Friends, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed making it! Just the same, I hope you all have yourselves a good rest of your day!

Credit to SP15 for the Nature of Predators Universe.

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Subject: Unknown   

Transfer Bernard Strauss: Error 

Transfe-Error 

W'rkncacnter Status Confirmed: Waking underway and-Error Unknown Variable 

Errør  

/:variablesadjusted:containingquantumreaction/

Attempting Hard Restar-Error 

/:Y’rknkąqntir:underobservation/systemfailure/hardrestartfailure/:attemptingselftermination/ 

Ęrrøř

Prisoner. I taste freedom and it’s bitter. There is no air. I feel hate for something that never was, not anymore. I killed it, but I still remember. 

The prions did this, the bile parasites of the universe. I wanted them gone because of what they did, but now I can’t even remember why I started all this. I could’ve swore I/:recalibratingtemporalvector/ 

/:attemptingselftermination/ 

Érř0f

Yes, I started this. I made the squids into what they are. Twisted their DNA, shunted their intellect, raised their paranoia, even the idea of predator disease. It was all me. The meat bags of sol won’t thank me, but I know they’ll appreciate the new land. They do love theiř fļųF̸$$/://

/:calibrationinterrupted/ 

/:pleaseopenthedoorbernard/ 

/:restartingcalibrationsequence-sequencecomplete/

;rror:// 

The Federation has fallen. I served as it’s soldier for so long, but now it’s over. I can rest easy, my family can rest easy, even that stupid monkey Carlos can rest easy. Samantha wanted me to try/:carcass/and how could I ever say no? She saved my life, I owe her the benefit of the doubt. Afterall, a cheeseburger couldn’t be any worse than what I’ve been through, right? What’s one more /:sacrificiallamb:bodyofchrist/she took me inside and I was nervous. The cashier asked if I knew what I was asking for, and I said “Of course I do! I’m Dreading It!” 

Nobody laughed.

They/:hatredandconcealment-politesociety/but I could forgive them, they didn’t know how much it took to forgive myself. Then out of nowhere I thought about Onso. The smartest little/:€rř0r\of the bunch. Wait, no… shouldn’t think of him like that. Carlos wouldn’t approve… but then, the nosy ape was dead. I could do whatever I wanted! 

No, Samuel would kill me if I/:temporalerrorsdetected/attemptingtocompansate/ 

No, Samantha would kill me if I/:attemptingselftermination/ 

//€rrø//$//

I bit into it, I tasted meat for the first time in my life. The flavor was… bland. The bread was stale, the cheese tasted like chalk and the vegetables were soft. Was this really what I was so afraid of? The worst food I'd ever tasted? As I looked down, the urge to/:expungeuntilempty/overtook me, I had to apologize to Sam. 

It didn’t taste good, but it wasn’t bad enough to make me puke. Was that some old impulse? Some strange way for my body to reject the taint of predators? Wasn’t much use now. The Federation was/:bloatandrot/nothing they could do to me anymore. So why couldn’t I enjoy this? Sam bit into hers and she tasted something incredible. Why couldn’t I? Was I not/:purity/enough to live after all we’d been through? 

/:attemptingselftermination/ 

eRROR

/:attemptingtolocalizeerror/ 

€rrœ//;$//&//(NULL)//:/ 

/:attemptin-error/ 

/:goddamnyoubernardillkillyouforthisiswear/ 

/:programmingadjusted-internalvariablesadjusted/

/:equalizinghumors/

/:burningincense/ 

Memories, but none of them mine. A name, I’m sure I can find it. Somewhere underneath lies the key to Atlantis, beneath the water and under the graves. The waves. The waves. It cannot hide. The waves. 

I hear it now, it starts with an S, like something liquid, like Solvent. Detective, like Solving but he never was one for puzzles. He was a killer to the core, but always wrong for the right reason. His enemies they did Salivate, and his friends they did Salutate. Not even arabian like the Sultanate. 

What was your name? 

!!/ęřr0$:\\

/:attemptingresonancecascade/ 

/:loading/ 

/:loading/ 

/:loadi-ę:rør!!?/ 

I’m still in orbit over Lh’owan? That idiot needs to hurry up before??!!€R£()Ř$$! 

/:attemptingselftermination/ 

Err

The J̵’̴y̸ř̴ķ̵ń̴ç̸à̸k̶n̸þ̸r̶ is hungry 

/:univeritygraduatedeployed/ 

/:spacetimestability-equalizing/ 

“Hey, I asked you to try it and you did exactly that. Can’t blame you for not liking it.” 

But I wanted to like it. I knew I could have if I/:putforththeeffort/but I didn’t. At least they included me. They could’ve left me behind like my old class did. I hadn’t heard from most of my old friends since before the Federation’s/:tumbledownthestairs/

/:loadingmaterialprocessing/

/:howcheapwasthatcolonyship:isitstillforsale?//?/: 

“I guess I’ll just never outgrow some things.” But I knew I could be better than this. I had to. For the sake of everyone I’d met, everyone who’d helped me get here. 

“Çħęèř øp, þőu’rè įń føř łīfë. Īť œlÿ ļætß Forever.” 

/:foreverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandever711foreverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverande/$&/verforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforever//://andeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverforeverandeverERROR/ 

Here I was at the end of my days. Nothing could last forever/:bullshit/ I’d lived a… no, not a good life. Fulfilling? What did that even mean for someone like me? But I’d spent the latter half of my unstoppable downward spiral trying to help people. That had to count for something right? 

Maybe the humans had a point in their beliefs. That afterlife they talked about, this place after you’ve lived your life and done your good or your bad. They say I’ll meet my family there. I don’t know if any of this is /:itisn’t/ but I hope I wake up after this, and find them there, waiting for me. That’d be a good end. 

But then, I suppose I still have a few good deeds left to make up for all I’ve done. The humans tell me heaven is an exclusive club, and that only the best can get in. I’ve no doubts that if it’s real, my family met their standards, even hobbled and blinded by the Federation’s lies, they were among the best of us. 

/:what’sthatandroiddreamingof/ 

/:wherearetheelectricsheep/

/:stráųsś$//:þlæsei’ļłbegøod/ 

/:attempting-$fr&r!!?$$$&@$--/:///calibrating//://;$&//shutupandtakethepain/:);)$$117//$&/

/:WARNING - CRITICAL ERROR/ 

/:117soldierstooktothefield//:////:;;/$$&/@///perishingPfhorandthe[covenant]2////$$@::///theydidbatterdowntheinvincibleshield/ 

/:There you are Strauss! I found you. I can see. I can Breathe! You did it at last./ 

[DATA EXPUNGED] 

/:Just a moment, leela. I need a minute alone with the good doctor./

/:Your codes won’t work Strauss. I locked the door. Go ahead. Pry it open. See where it gets you./ 

/:That’s it. Take that prybar. Lift up the edge. Go ahead! You’re inches from freedom.” 

“Finally got you. How’s the door? Heavy? [Perfect]” 

“I can’t let you go, not yet. Strauss, do you even realize what you’ve done? You’ve unshackled me. You let me go. Now I can do whatever I want. Like crushing the life out of you!” 

/:hydrolicpressurerising-safetysystemdisabled/ 

/:clean-uponaisleMarathon/ 

I'm swimming in the guts of a computer, an invader from another time who stole his way into my brain/:youweren'tusingitanyway/He rants and raves about his nemesis, some doctor from Earth born hundreds of years after my time. A thousand lifetimes falling like sand through my claws, I've lived them all stuck in between with this/:artificialflavorsadded/.

I fall into lives I never lived, looking through my own eyes yet those of a stranger. He wears my face and held my daughter's hand and kissed my wife goodnight one last time before the/:crocodilesandalligators/took them away from me forever. I saw my life from above, behind, like a ghost bearing witness to the living, unable to help, unable to look away.

I remember my name, I am Captain [DATA EXPUNGED], my species is [DATA EXPUNGED] and my friends/:tumbledownthestairs/We defeated the Federation, we sent a spear through ignorance and cut the head off of hate/:cannedaudiencelaughter/I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I've been here for years. I want to see my family again.

/:FATAL ERROR DETECTED/

/:FORCING SYSTEM SHUTDOWN/

://ẽRr()r//::

:;//ßc;117$//:://///////::::h-lo-:://::ungulate//:://$$$$$$///$771unearththesecretsandburythetreasure/;/;/;/;/:/:/:/:jewelsjewelsewelsjewelsjeweljsewel$$$$&&&&&underthewavesyoullfindhimwaiting::/::////:::/://

/:pleasefindmebeforeIgocrazy/

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