The green jungle on Sector-7 was completely silent. Three weeks ago, the United Earth forces lost the center territory of a resource planet called RS-44. The Zogas, an orcish looking species, betrayed their peace treaty with the humans and struck from behind, catching everyone off guard. Zoga ships had bombed the human bases into dust before taking over the major fuel and mineral mines. Then, they sent out hunting squads into the heavy woods to wipe out the remaining human survivors.

Commander Vae’len adjusted the blue armor plate on his chest. His team of five heavily armored soldiers walked down a narrow dirt path, scanning for any signs of humans. Their energy rifles were fully charged, ready to blast a hole in anything that moves.

“Any signs of the targets?” Vae’len asked.

“Nothing on the sensors sir,” the scout replied, checking a small screen on his wrist. “I believe this sector should already have been cleaned up. The humans should be dead or starving by now.”

Vae’len grunted. He hated this planet. The oxygen here was too thick, and the trees grew too damn close together. Back home, wars were fought with long range energy cannons in open plains. On this planet, you couldn’t even see ten feet ahead without a tree blocking the view.

Suddenly, a soft crack sounded from the bushes.

“Stop,” Vae’len ordered, raising a hand.

The Zoga team froze, and the forest went dead silent again. Vae’len looked down at the mud and saw a thin wire stretched across the path, tied between two tree trunks.

“A basic trap,” the scout laughed, stepping over it. “How primitive. They think a tiny string will stop an elite team of–”

Boom.

Behind the wire, a pressure plate was activated. A heavy log lined with sharp pieces of metal swung down from the branches like a giant pendulum. It hit the scout directly in the side, and the metal plates of his armor glowed before cracking with a loud snap, and he was thrown straight into the mud, coughing green fluid.

“Ambush!” Vae’len shouted, pulling out his energy shield. “Fire into the trees!”

The remaining Zoga soldiers opened fire, and bright red energy bullets sliced through the trees. They shot wildly, hoping to land a kill.

From behind a massive mossy rock twenty yards away, Sergeant Carter lowered his binoculars. He had thick mud smeared across his face and uniform to hide his body heat from alien scanners. Next to him, three other human survivors lay flat in the dirt. They were thin, their clothes were torn, and their rifles were old relics that used metal bullets instead of energy. They dug up these relics from the junk landfill outside of a base after the Zogas destroyed all their high tech weapons in the bombings. This relic is believed to be called an AK-47.

Carter looked at his team. “They’re panicking. We’re going to sneak over and wipe them out. Jax, you’ll drop the smoke. Weaver, take the left flank. Jones, attack from the right.”

The Zogas were still blindly shooting at the trees, confident that even one bullet could land.

A small metal canister rolled out of the bushes and landed right at the feet of the Zogas. It hissed loudly, filling the entire area with thick smoke.

“I cannot see!” a Zoga soldier yelled. “My visor sensors are going crazy!”

Crack! Crack!

The loud roar of human guns shattered the air. Unlike energy rifles which were silent and clean, the human guns sounded like thunder. Two Zoga soldiers dropped into the mud, their heavy chest plates, built to withstand energy, pierced easily by metal bullets.

“Form a circle!” Vae’len screamed, firing his energy rifle into the smoke. “They are right next to us! Use your thermal visors!”

“I still can’t see them sir!” one of the remaining Zoga soldiers shouted back.

Weaver moved through the smoke and drove a long jagged piece of scrap metal straight into the soft joints of one of the remaining Zoga soldiers.

The alien yelled, collapsing forward. Carter stepped out of the smoke right behind him, bringing the heavy metal butt of his rifle down onto the back of the alien’s helmet.

The last one was taken out using the same method.

Vae’len backed up until he hit a tree trunk. The smoke was starting to clear, but his entire team was gone. Five Zoga soldiers were lying in the dirt, disabled or dead.

Standing in front of him were four humans. They looked exhausted. One of them had a bloody bandage wrapped around his arm. Their armor was broken, and they had no fancy energy shields.

Vae’len raised his hand in surrender. His logical mind still couldn’t understand it. “We destroyed your bases,” Vae’len wheezed, his voice filled with fear. “We have the sky. We have the mines. Our army has thousands of soldiers in Sector-7. Your human reinforcements will not arrive until weeks later. You cannot win this battle. Why do you keep fighting? Accept your fate as prisoners.”

Carter stepped forward and stood over him. “We aren’t fighting to win the Sector back today. We’re just making sure you never get a single night of sleep as long as we’re alive. As for being a prisoner? Not a chance.”

Carter leveled his gun right at Vae’len’s chest. “Go to hell you backstabbing pieces of shit.”

 “Thanks for the ride, Captain,” Eric said, waving at the Grahm ship captain cheerfully. The Captain grumbled while several of the crewmembers waved at Eric, Sandra, Robin, Tauran, Storm, and Kendra as they left the docks.

“If I never have to sail again, it will be too soon,” Robin grumbled, shaking his head.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Storm said with a laugh.

“Those waves were bigger than us during that storm a week in,” Robin said with a frown. “I was certain we’d have to teleport all of us out of there to survive.”

“Nah, those ships are built pretty sturdy, no matter how old-school they look,” Eric chuckled.

“I’ll stick with space travel, thank you,” Robin sniffed. “Much less terrifying.”

“Wimp,” Eric said.

“What’s a star-born ship like?” Taruan asked, looking around the city with interest.

“Much cooler,” Robin said with a nod. “You’ll get your own room if you want one, and anything you could ever want.”

“Spaceships come in various sizes, ranging from Grade 0, which is usually something like an unmanned drone, to Grade 5, which is an entire city in space, with thousands of people living on it,” Eric explained as they walked towards the landing pads. “The Flying Dutchman is a Grade 3, which is usually the upper limit of civilian owned craft, short of being part of a successful company or obscenely rich. Think of it like a flying house capable of housing 20-30 people comfortably.”

“Yeah, a house that can fight,” Robin laughed. “Our ships are heavily armed and armored as well, so pretty safe for most things.”

“Yeah, good times,” Eric said with a nod. “Also, Storm, Kendra, remind me later to show you two some music once we get you datapads. There’s a lot out there that you might be able to add to your repertoire.”

“Sounds good,” Storm said with a laugh.

“Hello, yes you six, over here,” came a familiar voice. Eric looked to the side to see a Xactarian waving at them.

“Shit, Billy, is that you?” Eric laughed as Sandra lit up. “Dude, how’ve you been?”

“Much better,” Buzzy Billy said happily as he buzzed a bit in excitement, giving Sandra a hug as she raced up to him. “My Tune has been enjoying the work your people are giving her.”

“Is this the Xactarian you were telling me about?” Robin asked, looking Billy over curiously.

“Yeah, his wife is the new Reaper Gunsmith we’ve hired,” Eric said with a laugh. “Speaking of which, tell her I’m very, very happy with the work. Her upgrades have saved mine and Sandra’s tails more than a few times now.”

“She weill be delighted to hear that,” Billy said with a happy nod. “Though, it appears that your group has grown a bit,” he added, looking over Robin, Storm, Kendra, and Tauran.

“Robin here is one of my people, he just showed up when we reached Mascomlia,” Eric explained. “Storm, Tauran, and Kendra there,” he continued, pointing to each of them in turn, “are locals who wanted to travel to space with us.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” Billy said with a nod. “Well, I’m sure you three will see things you will never have even imagined up there. But do make sure to stop by the Customs Office on your way out. There is some paperwork involved for residence that wish to leave the planet.”

“Yeah, the Captain that brought us here said the same thing,” Eric chuckled. “That was actually our next stop before heading over to the landing pads.”

“Excellent,” Billy said with a nod. “And they should be able to change your coin into credits as well for you, so you aren’t starting with nothing.”

“Hey, how many other Reapers have come through so far?” Eric asked curiously.

“Only four, two groups of two, though I have been told that it should begin to pick up in a few weeks,” Billy said.

“Shit, hopefully I’m on that list of people coming soon,” Robin chuckled.

“Nah, you just got a new Trainee, they’ll probably wait until he’s trained up a bit more before adding you two on the list,” Eric chuckled. “Glad to see you’re doing well though, Billy. I was worried after what happened.”

“Yes, but thankfully I have a very loving and understanding wife,” Billy said with a sad smile. “And a new apprentice as well, so things have been hectic.”

“If you ever need to talk, I know some very good psychologists,” Eric said, smiling as well.

“I’ll let Speaker know if I need someone to talk to,” Billy chuckled. “But please, don’t worry about me. You still have Customs to talk to about getting your new friends Galactic ID’s before they close for the day.”

“Right, let’s hurry,” Robin laughed. “Good to meet you, friend.” You as well,” Billy said with a wave as they began walking off again. Storm paused for a minute as she passed by Billy, giving the Xactarian a surprise hug and whispering something to him. Billy seemed surprised, but hugged Storm back tightly, nodding into her shoulder before she caught up to the group. Eric decided to not say anything about it, but nodded in thanks to the elvish woman.

“So, what all does getting an ID require?” Kendra asked as she looked around.

“Name, race, age, home planet or station, and a DNA sample…” Robin slowly stopped talking before giving Eric a look and looking at Storm.

“Shit, I forgot about the DNA sample,” Eric muttered. “They won’t have your race on file.”

“Heavy gene modding?” Robin suggested.

“Still keeps the base DNA,” Eric said, shaking his head.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they won’t ask?” Robin said.

“Yeah right, not with my luck,” Eric snorted.

…………………………..

“Oh, yes we were actually waiting for your group,” the Wolfaritan Customs woman said with a bright smile. “The Terran Federation actually sent documentation for the leaving residents to get their ID’s with minimal fuss. So all we need to do is insert it and you’ll be good to go.”

“Oh,” Eric said, his eyebrows raising almost to his hairline, making Sandra giggle a bit. “Well, that works then.”

“Now, we do still need the DNA sample, but it’s only to bind the ID to you, not run any testing, if that is alright. We don’t even retain a copy, it’s directly linked to your new ID.”

“Awesome, thank you,” Eric said, waving Kendra, Storm, and Tauran up to the desk as the woman pulled out a trio of what looked like manacles.

“Your right arms, please,” she said. “Now, this will sting just a little bit, but rest assured it will not do any damage to you.”

“And what does that do?” Tauran asked, eyeing the manacles warily while Storm just held out her wrist.

“All it does is give you your ID in the form of a small microchip,” the woman explained as she placed the manacle around Storms wrist. There was a brief beeping and a hiss of gas before the manacle came off, a small red spot on Storm’s wrist. “See, easy.”

“It’s basically just something that says you are who you say you are,” Eric said with a slight chuckle. “No idea how it works, you’d have to ask someone who actually made them, but they’re impossible to falsify, hack, or get rid of, short of losing an arm. Some people prefer to get them on their chest, but it’s usually more convenient to have it on your wrist if you’re asked for identification. Kind of need one though for space travel, so even the wandering fleets have ways to give them to people.” Tauran and Kendra looked at each other for another moment before sticking their arms out as well. Kendra winced at the hiss of gas being released, and Tauran’s arm twitched.

“Excellent, and you are all set up to travel among the stars,” the woman said brightly, dropping the manacles into a waste bin that growled and grumbled for a moment as the manacles were destroyed. “Welcome to the Stars, sir and ma’ams. We hope you find everything you’re looking for, and more besides.”

………………………….

“Lord of the Mountain and Mother of the Seas,” Tauran breathed.

“Stormchasers blessings, that is much bigger than I was expecting,” Kendra said as the Flying Dutchman rose from storage, sleek black and red paint and numerous scorings along the hull, testaments to past battles.

“When you said a house, I was expecting something a tenth this size,” Tauran said, shaking his head as the landing platform groaned to a halt.

“I was using a house as a comparison,” Eric laughed as he began walking towards the ship, the cargo ramp already lowering to let them in. “I also mentioned this thing can comfortably house 20-30 people. Maybe 50 if we want to be packed in.”

“Heh, the Frontiers Edge is better,” Robin laughed.

“They are the exact same model, don’t give me that BS,” Eric said, rolling his eyes as Sandra raced up the ramp. “Also, when are you going back to your crew?”

“When we get to the Reunion,” Robin said cheerfully. “You’re stuck with me until then.”

“Fucking hell,” Eric said, rolling his eyes again as he walked into the Dutchman. “Sandra, can you show our new friends around, get them a room, and then check on the food stores. I don’t think we left anything perishable while we were gone but never hurts to double check. I’m going to start getting the ship ready to go.”

“Got it,” Sandra said cheerfully.

Eric paused for a moment, looking around carefully. “And do a sweep of the ship while you’re at it,” Eric said. “Something feels off.”

…………………..

“You are cleared for launch, Flying Dutchman,” the control tower said. “Thank you for your visit to Zatoria V, we hope you enjoyed your time here.”

“Very much did, thank you,” Eric said with a laugh. He then switched on the shipwide speakers when the line cut. “Hey, anyone who wants to see a ship launch from the inside come on up to the cockpit.” He was still getting the diagnostics finished when the cockpit door opened and everyone else came in, and Sandra immediately slipped into a sub-pilot seat. “So, what do y’all think?” Eric asked as the engines started.

“A bit overwhelming,” Kendra said, shaking her head. “This is much more open than I was led to believe.”

“I feel like you could run forever in that weird room that could change scenes,” Tauran said, a faraway look on his face. “How does that work?”

“Clever programming with gravity generators, well-made holographic projectors and an extremely involved micro-ball system in the floor,” Eric chuckled as the ship lifted slightly as the anti-grav struts were activated. “Wish I could say more, but those things are as much a mystery to me as you. Sandra might know better.”

“Shao hasn’t let me work on the holo-rooms yet beyond basic maintenance,” Sandra said, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, learning how a holo-room works is practically an entire degree in and of itself.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” Robin chuckled.

“Flying Dutchman to Centura Control, we are leaving the landing pad now,” Eric said, activating the comms. "Are we still cleared for take-off?"

"Confirmed, you are still cleared," the control tower said. “Be advised that there have been reports of pirates around the Zatoria System as of late, so be careful out there.”

“Copy that,” Eric said. “Also, be advised that we will be entering combat mode for take-off. We have a few residents joining us in the stars today, and I want to give them the full view.”

“Copy, just keep your fingers off the triggers until you’re out of atmo,” the control tower chuckled. “Welcome to the stars, new star-born.” Eric nodded and activated the combat view, and the entire cockpit seemed to disappear, to the shock of Kendra and Tauran.

“Lord of the Mountain,” Tauran said, eyes wide as they lifted into the air.

“This is very different than flying on my own wings,” Kendra agreed, looking around.

“Sandra, want to do the honors?” Eric asked.

“Can I?” Sandra asked, look at Eric in excitement.

“Sure, let’s see if vacation has made you rusty,” Eric said. Sandra grinned as Eric transferred flight control to her seat. Sandra grabbed the controls and carefully angled the ship to not be quite straight up and gunned the engines.

Tauran and Kendra both cried out in shock while Storm just laughed as they rocketed towards the clouds, climbing higher and higher into the sky, the sky slowly darkening from a light blue, to blue, to purple, and eventually, black with the twinkling of the stars.

“Stormchasers blessings,” Kendra said, her eyes wide at the vast expanse of space.

“Is that, our planet?” Tauran asked, looking behind them.

“Yup,” Robin said with a nod as Sandra carefully brought them to an orbital route, showing the sun just rising on the Mascomlia continent. “Going to space the first time is a treat you’ll never feel again, so remember this well.”

“Kind of makes you feel small, huh?” Eric chuckled, seeing their dumbfounded expressions.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Tauran said, shaking his head. “I used to think my father was rather successful as a merchant, but now I see how small thinking that was.”

“Your father is quite a successful merchant,” Storm said, her face a picture of peace and contentment. “Even among the stars, he would have enough capital to start a rather good business if he wanted. But it’s a different kind of society up here.” Kendra and Tauran were silent as Sandra pulled them away from the planet, angling the nose of the Dutchman towards the blackness of space, the combat view shutting down as Sandra prepped the FTL, leaving only the viewscreen to see where they were going. A marker showed up on screen as they flew out of the system, and then a kaleidoscope of colors washed over them as they went FTL.

“So, what do you think, being among the stars now?” Eric asked with a grin.

“I think I need to sit down for a bit,” Tauran said. “I feel a bit lightheaded.” Kendra nodded in agreement.

“Well, I hope you chose your rooms already,” Eric chuckled as he stood up. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make some food and get out the drinks. It’ll help with processing everything.”

……………….

Eric woke up to the alarms blaring as the ship was interdicted out of FTL, his fingers flying to put his boots on before racing for the cockpit as the ship rumbled as something hit them.

“What’s going on?” Eric demanded as she raced into the cockpit, sliding into a sub-pilot seat as Robin swerved around to miss something, weapons already sliding out of their hidden ports.

“Looks like a pirate attack,” Robin said grimly as Sandra ran in and slid into the other sub-pilot seat.

“Support or backup?” Eric asked as the sub-pilot seat lit up.

“I’m not Adam or James, so some backup would be nice,” Robin ground out, his hands tightening on the controls as a fireball of an exploding ship flew past the combat screen. “I’m seeing three Grade 2 ships and two Grade 3’s, all of them Dra’Cari design.”

“Shit,” Eric grumbled as the area around him darkened slightly as a Stinger came online.

“At least that means the shields should be weaker,” Sandra said from her seat as a pair of Stingers dropped from the ship. Eric immediately began firing on the Grade 2 ships.

“Don’t get cocky, kiddo, they’re still a couple of orders above the Stingers in terms of firepower,” Eric said. “Dra’Cari ships are very well armed.” Their ship rocked again as a missile hit their shields. “Seeing any Teratakit weaponry?”

“Thankfully, no, but that doesn’t mean we’re not going to be in trouble soon,” Robin said as the cockpit door opened up again.

“What is going on?” Tauran asked.

“Pirates,” Eric said sharply. “Now, silence please from the guests, distractions in combat area a terrible idea. Sandra, on me, let’s see if we can’t oversaturate and get at least a couple of these smaller ships while Robin deals with the big ones.”

“Copy that,” Sandra said, her Stinger joining Eric’s as they began to focus fire on one of the smaller ships. “Huh, weird,” Sandra muttered.

“What’re you seeing, kiddo?” Eric asked.

“They keep aiming for the engines of the Dutchman,” Sandra said as one of the Grade 2 ships exploded.

“Great, so they’re aiming for a capture rather than a destruction,’ Robin said, the Dutchman juking hard to the side right before he fired the railguns, destroying one of the Grade 3 ships. “Hah, take that.”

“Save the celebration for when we’re not fighting for our lives,” Eric said. “Have they tried to hail us yet?”

“Nope,” Robin said as the ship rocked again. “Shit, a few more of those and the shields are going down.”

“Sandra, use the variable lasers,” Eric said, flicking a switch on his controls to change the lasers.

“Stingers are going to drain fast if we do,” Sandra said.

“Stingers are replaceable, we aren’t,” Eric growled. “The sooner we kill the Grade 2’s, the faster we can help Robin out.”

“Got it,” Sandra said as Eric’s Stinger exploded. Eric cursed and immediately dropped another Stinger.

“So glad that Adam insisted on switching the SCUGs out for Stingers on this thing,” Eric muttered as Sandra’s Stinger exploded as well and she dropped another Stinger.

“Any time would be great, guys,” Robin said, a little tense as another explosion rocked them, this time from a large plasma ball.

“Working on it,” Eric said, his Stinger spinning in a tight circle to avoid incoming fire as he started shooting at another Grade 2 ship. “Sandra.”

“Already on you,” Sandra said, her Stinger opening fire as well. They destroyed the second Grade 2 ship before turning their attention to the third. “Should have some breathing room now, Robin.”

“Shit, barely,” Robin said, firing the railguns and cursing as he missed the shot. There was a flash of blue as something lit up the 360-combat screen. “Fucking hell, whatever they just hit us with killed the shields.”

“We’re on our way,” Eric said as the last Grade 2 exploded.

“I’m going for the engines, see if we can’t slow them down a bit,” Sandra said, her Stinger flying towards the rear of the opposing Grade 3 ship.

“Get under the shield if you can,” Eric said as he opens fired on the Grade 3 ship. “I’ll run interference and distraction.” Another explosion rocked them before the enemy shields dropped.

“Well, that just got us a hole in the cargo hold,” Robin said, finally landing a railgun shot that destroyed the pirate ship.

“Wait, the cargo hold?” Sandra asked, looking horrified. She quickly got out of her seat and took off running.

“Sandra! Shit,” Eric muttered. “And there goes the Stinger to shrapnel. Dammit, Sandra.”

“Is it over?” Tauran asked cautiously, his face white.

“Yeah, for now,” Robin said, shaking his head and activating the repair bots. “But we’re not going to be able to land planetside without some repairs.”

“See if you can collect the black boxes while we wait for the repair drones to take care of any serious damage, I want to know why we were attacked,” Eric growled as he finished docking his Stinger. “I’m going to go have a talk with Sandra.”

“Got it,” Robin nodded.

“You three, you’re welcome to stay here, but I would recommend getting some sleep if you can,” Eric added to Kendra, Tauran, and Storm while he walked past them.

“I think I will stay here,” Storm said with a smile.

“I do not see myself sleeping for a while now,” Kendra agreed as Tauran nodded.

“Suite yourselves,” Eric shrugged. He quickly ran down to the cargo hold, where Sandra was panting just outside the door, a very familiar silver-blue Dra’Cari at her feet.

“Dad, help me carry her to the med bay, please?” Sandra begged, looking almost panicked. “She was hurt and almost sucked out when the cargo hold was compromised.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Eric demanded, glaring at Sandra as he looked Sar’Ma over, quickly assessing the damage. Her breathing was shallow, and her left arm was at the wrong angle, but Eric couldn’t see any other obvious wounds. “Dammit. Alright, but you and I are going to have a talk later, little lady,” Eric said, carefully lifting Sar’Ma up.

………………………….

“The good news is that she’ll live, but it was a close thing,” Nightclaw said, shaking his head through the holo-screen. “She had internal bleeding due to burst blood vessels, a few organs on the verge of rupturing, and the less said about her lungs the better. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she went on a space walk without an atmo-belt at the very least.”

“She almost did, apparently,” Eric said, giving the silent Sandra another glare. “She was hiding in the cargo hold when we were attacked by pirates, and our shields failed. A hole was blown in said cargo hold, and Sandra was able to get her out after the blast doors sealed the breach.”

“A stowaway?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” Eric growled.

“Well, for now the Dra’Cari girl needs to stay in the medical bay,” Nightclaw said with a sigh. “She needs to stay hooked up to the equipment for a while until the healing serums can do their thing, otherwise she runs the risk of severe organ failure within hours, if not minutes. She’s lucky her eyes didn’t burst, but the broken arm is going to be her biggest hinderance once she can start moving around again. But she needs to stay in the medical bay for at least four or five days, and only soft or liquid foods for the first three. Even after all of that, her recovery is going to be several weeks at a bare minimum.”

“Lovely,” Eric said dryly. “Any chance I can jump to the Mercy and grab one of you guys?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Nightclaw said, shaking his head. “You weren’t the only ones attacked. We just fended off a pirate attack of our own as well, and several of the Security people were pretty severely injured.” Eric frowned at that.

“That sounds coordinated,” Eric said slowly. “Dra’Cari ships?”

“No,” Nightclaw said, his face serious. “Sons of Blood.” Eric felt his blood go cold.

“Shit,” Eric said.

“Alpha Group isn’t too far from us, so we’re meeting up with them before heading to the Reunion,” Nightclaw added. “Be very careful, Eric. And call Captain Jeremiah when you get off with me.”

“Yeah, will do,” Eric said with a nod. “Thanks, Nightclaw.”

“Be safe,” Nightclaw said before the line cut. Eric sighed before looking at Sandra.

“You and I are still going to have a talk,” Eric said. “But right now, it sounds like I need to make another phone call, so you’re off the hook, for now.”

“Okay,” Sandra said in a small voice, looking at the ground.

“For now, you’re in charge of Sar’Ma,’ Eric said. his eyes narrowed as Sandra looked up. “This isn’t something to be happy of,” he growled. “Until I get the full story from you and her, she’s currently considered a stowaway. And she’s heavily injured. So that means you are going to keep an eye on her, make sure she gets healthy, and help make sure she’s fed.”

“Got it,” Sandra said, her voice still small as she nodded.

“Sandra,” Eric said, catching her eye. “This isn’t something to be frivolous about. What just happened could have resulted in Sar’Ma’s death very, very easily. This is one of those times I actually am angry, not just disappointed. Understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” Sandra said, her tail drooping as she looked down again. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Eric said, looking pointedly at Sar’Ma. “So, until this all gets sorted out, you are not to leave Sar’Ma’s side, got it?” Sandra nodded miserably but tapped a wall so that a chair slid out. “Good.” Eric quickly left the medical bay, taking a deep breath as he tried to keep his anger under control. “Alright, let’s see what Jeremiah has to say then.”

……………………………..

“Adam and Shao are going to tear you two a new one,” Jeremiah chuckled from the holo-screen. “Letting some pirates put a hole in the Flying Dutchman? Hope you have your funeral itinerary set up.”

“They can certainly try,” Robin snorted.

“Jeremiah, what’s this I heard about the Sons of Blood attacking?” Eric said, trying to get back on subject.

“Yeah, we got interdicted almost at the same time you did,” Jeremiah said, frowning a bit as he leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t quite the same sized force as the Cortisharan Station incident, but it was still a reasonably sized fleet. But they were definitely aiming to kill rather than capture. We lost a few ships and several really good pilots.”

“Dammit,” Eric muttered as Robin frowned in empathy. “How’s everyone else?”

“Alive, but morale definitely took a hit,” Jeremiah sighed. “We managed to replace the ships by capturing some of theirs, and the pirates that are still alive are currently in cryo, both for their safety and ours. But the deaths definitely hurt in more ways than one.”

“Which pilots did we lose?” Eric asked quietly.

“Mak, Larka, and Gorn,” Jeremiah said, shaking his head. “The crew is getting ready for a spaceborne funeral while we wait for Alpha Group to show up, and I’ve already contacted their families, as well as sending a few million to each for life insurance.”

“Too cheap,” Eric muttered.

“I agree, but we don’t have the funds to send them nearly as much as I would like,” Jeremiah nodded.

“Back on topic for a second,” Robin cut in, “I did manage to retrieve the black box data from the pirates we destroyed. Apparently, they were Black Hunters.”

“Black Hunters?” Jeremiah asked with a frown.

“Bounty hunters that work almost exclusively for the criminal side of the galaxy,” Robin said. “If bounty hunters go after criminals that have gained a bounty from the various governments, then Black Hunters are bounty hunters that go after people the various criminal organizations place a bounty on. And Reapers have a very hefty one billion credit bounty each, two if we’re captured alive.”

“Shit, that’s still active?” Eric asked, shaking his head.

“Considering the Sons of Blood have started moving again, I can’t say I’m too surprised,” Jeremiah said. “The attack on the Scythe of Mercy was calculated and personal, but I think you guys managed to get attacked out of coincidence.”

“Maybe, but we didn’t exactly keep it quiet of where we went,” Eric pointed out. “It wouldn’t have been hard to find us. A pair of Reapers is easier to take care of than an entire capital ship.”

“Heh, an easy Reaper, that’s a laugh,” Robin chuckled.

“My point is, the timing might have been coincidence, but the attack definitely wasn’t,” Eric said, glaring at Robin. Jeremiah sighed a bit, tapping his finger as he thought.

“I’ll contact the other Reaper team leads, tell them to be on the lookout,” Jeremiah finally said. “Alpha knows we were attacked, but if the Sons are moving again, then better to be extra cautious. And you two, if it looks like you’re losing a battle, abandon ship. The Dutchman can be replaced, but people can’t. Jump to the Reaper Estate if you have to, since at the moment I can’t guarantee the safety of the Scythe for civilians.”

“Copy that,” Robin and Eric said with a nod.

“What about Sar’Ma?’ Eric asked. “She’s not going to be able to leave the medical bay for several days, according to Nightclaw.”

“The Estate has a state-of-the-art medical facility attached to it,” Jeremiah said with a smile. “If it comes to it, which I really hope it won’t, Roy will show you where it’s at. Just make sure the girl is wearing a gravity belt at all times, just in case.”

“Got it,” Eric nodded.

“You two be careful,” jeremiah added. “Double-time it to the Reunion if you can. I don’t like the thought of you vulnerable out there.” Eric and Robin both snorted at that.

“Us? Vulnerable? Please, anyone who tries that again better hope we’re in a good mood,” Robin said with a laugh.

“Last thing, Eric,” Jeremiah said, looking at Eric.

“My cue to leave,” Robin said, quickly leaving the briefing room.

“What’s up?” Eric asked.

“Don’t go easy on Sandra this time,” Jeremiah said bluntly. He held up a hand to forestall Eric’s argument. “Eric, final exam or not, she’s a Reaper. From the sound of it, she knew Sar’Ma was on the ship and chose to say nothing. Not only did that almost cost the Dra’Cari girl her life, but that could have also been a massive security breach. She could have caused major damage to the ship before you or anyone else even knew what was happening. I know she’s a friend, but the principle is still there. Especially since she’s not used to space travel or spaceships, she could have accidentally caused severe damage to the ship by poking around.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eric sighed. “I wasn’t planning on going easy on her this time. First thing is that she’s going to be in charge of Sar’Ma while we’re traveling. Food, medicine, cleaning, Sandra is under orders not to let Sar’Ma out of her sight for the foreseeable future. She needs to see the visible consequences for staying silent. But I’m also planning on delaying her next Reaper Test by another few months.”

“Good,” Jeremiah said with a nod. “Her skills are there; the only things she’s really missing is experience. But this shows that her mindset is not ready to be an official Reaper yet. I know you’ve gone easy on her a few times in the past, trying to balance out being her father with being her Mentor.”

“And you’ve gone harder on her to make up for it,” Eric chuckled.

“I have,” Jeremiah nodded. “But you’re the highest authority now. Father or not, you cannot go easy on her or buckle on this.”

“I know, I know,” Eric sighed again. “I hate it, but I know.”

“Good,” Jeremiah said. “Keep in contact. And head directly to the Sol system, don’t try to meet up with us. It’ll be faster to meet you there anyway than to try and meetup.”

“I’m going to make a pitstop at the nearest station first, see if we can’t get the hole patched,” Eric said with a nod.

“Good to hear,’ Jeremiah said with a smile. “See you at the Reunion.”

First Previous Next

Part 1

TOC

Appendix

This story will be a sort of superhero/science fiction hybrid. As such, there will be a lot of fights, and they can get quite graphic. So, just a heads up for: blood, intense violence, death, and other combat-related triggers, you have been warned.

Also, English is not my native language. Apologies for any errors. There is a whole part where I struggled because multiple characters have an unknown gender and have to be referred to in the neutral, which, I might have screwed up somewhere, since I kept slipping "him" and "he" by accident. It's late for me, so I'll go to sleep, and probably correct any errors I find tomorrow. Questions, comments, criticisms, and all such are welcome and appreciated :b

PoV of Alexendre Ermes.

I had never been a great hero. By that, I mean that, even if stronger than a lot of other heroes, I still wasn’t at the level of the top heroes. I simply couldn’t take on the greater threats. At best, I could be a diversion or assist a stronger hero, but I would rarely be the main name of a big event. I was content with that. Not every hero had to be a superstar. Yet fate has a tendency to grab you whether you like it or not, and today was that kind of day.

My powers were as basic as could be: strength, flight, durability, speed, and the slightest bit of telekinesis. Fairly average power, although my speed and agility were noteworthy. Other than that, I possessed two weapons, both of which were handed down to me by my father. A pistol and a sword, both empowered by the energy of me and my late father, making them better and more durable. To complement this, a simple homemade costume. A black hoodie, a full-face black-tinted gas mask, black gloves decorated with patterns of red flames, and a cape with a crudely drawn phoenix emblem on it.

I… did have another ability.

Since I was young, I remember often slipping and accidentally getting lost in… nowhere. One second, I would be in my room or on the street, and the next, I would be in a completely white space for as far as the eye could see. Nothing. Simply nothing. When it first happened, I was terrified. Eventually, by accident, or maybe by instinct, I somehow slipped back to my world. This happened many times, even if, as I got older and learned to better control this ability, it would be less frequent for me to accidentally slip. Over time, I even warmed up to this big emptiness of nothing. This white void had almost become a comfort space for me when I wanted somewhere to be alone. Although I did notice that I didn’t seem to teleport to the same white space, or the same place in the white space, each time I slipped, since I couldn’t find any item I would leave there.

One day, something even weirder happened. I am not sure if it ever was real. At 15, I tried slipping into the infinite white as I usually did. This time, instead of being greeted with the comforting nothingness, I was in lush green plains.

The place felt serene, but also… eerie. By then, I already had my powers and knew how to fly, so I moved, and I couldn’t believe it. At first, I thought I had teleported somewhere on Earth. There were buildings, a forest, and all the same plants I could recognize. But something was off, something was missing.

No animals, no insects, no humans. This entire world felt like an unending tomb. I couldn’t see any corpses or skeletons, but I could feel that something had died here. Entire towns were just empty, every building worn down and old. I felt the same fear I had when I first teleported into the white void. This place felt suddenly even more empty than the unending white. I could feel panic mounting within me. I could have slipped myself back to the real world at any time, but I knew that I would never be able to go back here if I did. My curiosity overtook my fear as I flew as fast as I could. After what must have been an hour, I saw something familiar, a road that I knew well, the one that went from Lyon to Marseille.

I decided that I should make my way down to Marseille, seeing how my native town was doing in this world, even if I didn’t expect it to be anything more than ruins like all the rest. But, to my horror, when I arrive there… nothing, just dozens of kilometers of completely flattened ground and a giant crater in the middle. The entire town didn’t exist at all, not even a single building. I felt unease rise up in me. What could it all mean? Did it even mean anything? What was this place?

Something grabbed me.

I froze, but I wasn’t being touched physically. Instead, it was as if I was being observed by something that could see too much, yet wasn’t quite awake. I could feel piercing eyes, cloudy, tired, and greyed from all sides, looking at me. And then, I heard it, “You aren’t ready. I will need your help. Someday, you will be here again. WAKE ME UP!”

And with that, I was back to my world. Not knowing if I had dreamed all that, or if it had really happened… I kept it to myself.

21st of January, 2034. Somewhere, a few kilometers north of Marseille, France.

With one last hit, the monster had been downed. Third time this week one of these had attacked the north of Marseille. A few people cheered on, they had filmed the short battle between me and it. I turned to their camera phone and did a peace sign, one foot on the creature. At the age of technology and superheroes, most people didn’t fear those creatures anymore, and saw them as a slight distraction from the daily.

I gave a few fist bumps, took a few more pictures with the people there, and helped with the debris of the fight before flying off. Today, at 14h, I was due to go to a local school to tell a few good words to the kids. Stay in school, don’t do drugs, to be good is to be cool, the usuals. Being a hero wasn’t just punching things after all. Killing things is what the military and the Global Counter-Anomaly Association were for. We, as superheroes, wore flashy colors and showed a smile when fighting. We are here to bring hope to people, to inspire onlookers.

13h33: I was drinking a coffee, relaxing for a few minutes before heading to school. As I was about to fly there, I felt… something. A feeling of unease, and a buzzing in my ears. The white dimension was calling to me, or something inside it was, I could feel it. I tripped to the infinite white. It was just as empty as ever, nothing to see really, but very far away, I could feel something. It was faint, very faint, yet I could swear someone was calling out for help. So, I flew my way over to it, going top speed towards the nagging feeling. It was hard to say how much distance I was really making without any point of reference, but it must have been well over a thousand kilometers, further than I’ve been in the infinite nothingness.

Once I arrived at my destination, there wasn’t anything different. Not anything that could be seen at least, but I could feel it. Right there, just in front of me, something was desperately calling out for help. I could feel terror, and, even without any sounds, I could feel it screaming. I tried to wave my arm and speak, but nothing worked. Whatever needed help was close, but not here. So, I decided to trip back out of the infinite white.

To my shock, I arrived somewhere completely unfamiliar. Tripping out of the white dimension had a tendency to move me around, but it was different this time. I could see buildings of unfamiliar architecture, roads, signs written in a language I couldn’t make heads or tails of, and, more pressing than that, corpses. It was the stuff of nightmares, creatures, vaguely humanoid in shape, seemingly bipedal, lying across the street or against buildings, all torn apart. The relatively smaller creatures looked to be around 150cm (5ft), with a thinner build than the average human, covered in fur of varying color, a long fluffy tail, eyes that were not quite front-facing like a human’s, 5 fingers on each hand with thumbs, whiskers on their faces, long ears pointing up, and a vaguely feline-like appearance to their face structure.

Their corpses lay bare in the streets or buildings, a lot of them seemingly recently killed. Limbs torn off, body parts visibly chewed, some disemboweled, others were barely recognizable as more than a pile of gore. Their blood only a slightly different shade of red than mine. “W….what the hell??!!” I spoke out loud. I had no idea where I was, and despite not knowing these creatures, the sight was very disturbing. Where was I? What were those things? And most importantly, what the fuck is going on here?! Important questions, but for later, I could hear someone scream. Whatever had called me was close by and terrified.

I hurried over, no time to even put my gas mask on, I flew through the streets filled with blood, gore, and guts. I had seen some gruesome stuff before, but this was different. It’s as if this town had been attacked, and there had been no effective evacuation or resistance against whatever was attacking, leaving almost the entire population to die. Quickly, I arrived in the court of a large building, my senses tingling. I could see what had called me here. It was one of those creatures, although this one was wearing a cape and a costume, it must be a hero, or equivalent in this world.

The small feline-like creature seemed to be fighting against 7 much larger creatures. Those ones looked like a completely different species. They were similarly furred and bipedal, but they had a bigger build, taller size, and resembled hyenas. Except for their arms and legs, which, instead of fur, bore reptile-like scales. Their hands ended in large and blunt claws, and their jaws looked similarly terrifying. 3 of them seemed to be superpowered individuals, while the other 4 wore some type of armor and were armed with rifles. One of the superpowered monsters slammed the much smaller creature against the wall.

I had to act, but didn’t want to attack straight away. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, maybe the small creature was the one doing all the killing? I couldn’t assume anything. So, I took a page out of the GCAA (Global Counter-Anomaly Association) handbook. Number 1: Always try diplomacy first.

“Hey! What’s happening here?” All the creatures looked towards me, surprised and shocked. The smaller one looked terrified while the bigger ones smiled as if pleased. “Hom! Tralga, Jenli, watzka katai?” One of the hyena-like creatures spoke to its accomplice, as if suprised but happy, then they gave a nod to one of the non-powered soldiers. The soldier, in response, grabbed what looked to be a civilian to the ground and got closer to me. The civilian was gravely injured, barely responding. “Hum…. why are you br-” I was cut off, as soon as the beast arrived close to me, it opened its jaws wide and ripped out the throat of the poor thing before seemingly offering me the corpse. The small hero creature screamed, pain in their voice, tears in their eyes, which earned a loud laugh from all the others.

I looked at the corpse in front of me, and I was frozen. Once again, I had seen my fair share of fucked up things, but seeing someone have their throats ripped out before their still warm corpse was presented to you as a gift was not one of them. “Fuck that! Fuck diplomacy!” I drew my gun before even realizing it and shot the soldier straight through his head. Before his limp body could hit the ground, I also shot at two of the other soldiers and tried to dash towards the third one, only for one of the superpowered beings to stop me.

It was pissed and lunged its claws at me. I blocked, but underestimated how strong it was, and how sharp their claws were. The creatures slashed at my arm, easily piercing through my costume, making my arm bleed. Before it could get another shot at hurting me, I punched it straight in the plexus. It was launched back several meters, hitting the wall behind it. The two other superpowered beings dropped the smaller hero and went in to attack me.

I dodged and dashed around, trying to avoid their hits. They were much stronger than I, so I had to be content with using my speed and playing it safe, getting a few shots off when they made a mistake in their positioning, which was often. They seemed very aggressive, but also very novice at fighting. I only had some 5 years of true experience, and I was doing better than them.

The small hero was in tears, despite not being held or having anything stopping them. They looked frozen. Their face screamed of the horrors that they had seen, its body was battered and cut, its costume torn to shreds. I tried moving over to them, to which they reacted by jumping back on their feet and trying to dodge away from me.

At least, they could still move. By now, the third hyena had gotten back up, while the remaining non-superpowered one had fled or hidden. The third one lunged, which I dodged, leaving the first one to try and grab me. He was barely too slow as I countered his grab with my elbow, using my other hand to punch its lower jaw, dislocating it with a satisfying noise. Meanwhile, the smaller superhero had taken flight, their thorn cape with a symbol of the sun flapping in the wind. They weren’t very fast, at least, compared to me, and hyena number 2 had started to fly towards them, quickly catching up. “NO!” I quickly took flight, going straight at the assailant, unseathing my sword. I reached it just before they were about to grab the smaller hero. The monster had the time to put its arms in a defensive position, forcing me to slash across its arms instead of the neck I had been aiming for.

All three of the beasts ganged up on me, taking advantage of my low velocity after slashing to try to grab me. I swung my sword on all sides, slashing several of them as I backed up, but they were simply too aggressive, and one managed to grab my leg. Its powerful claws dug into my calf and tried to tear it. I took my pistol back out of the holster and shot the creature away, missing its head and hitting the shoulders instead. But now, I was face-to-face with all three of them, being swarmed. I aimed my pistol, and before one of them could bite my arm off, the smaller hero yelled something. “Trolca!” A bright light emanated from its hands, blinding the three assailants, allowing me to fly backwards towards the hero. “So that’s why you got a sun on your cape?”

Before the three hyenas could react, I grabbed the hero by the collar of his shirt, to which they reacted with a worried yelp. I then flew faster than I ever did, dragging the poor, injured thing with me. Going faster than Mach 7, I soared high above the clouds in less than 3 seconds.

I looked at the battered fighter. They were in bad shape, but I clearly couldn’t take all three of these alone. For some reason, they also had that look of fear in their eyes when they looked straight at me. It was on edge, as if ready to fight me if I lunged at him. “Listen here, little guy! I don’t know what the FUCK is happening, but if those bastards are responsible for all those corpses I saw…” I got closer to emphasizing my point. “…they have to die right here and right now. One of them escaping is bad enough.” I usually had a no kill unless necessary rule, but fuck that, I ain’t letting those things live after they evicerated someone in front of me. “Are you good to fight, or do you think you could fly to get some help. I can’t take all three at once. If possible, I’d need at least one of them distracted.”

“Nahj…..Nahjink yalka,” The creature said, its eyes sad, falling, its ears flattening. But then, it looked straight at me and got in a fighting posture, trying to tell me he’d fight. Although dread could still be seen in its eyes, they were terrified of those monsters. Somehow, they had understood me, even though I couldn’t. “Brave little thing,” I gave a pat to its head. Might have been inapropriate at the moment, but I was stressed and not thinking clearly. “Now, get ready.”

The hyenas had finally reached us almost 20 seconds after we had fled. This is why I enjoyed fighting in the sky. I was pretty much faster than everything, and could easily use my 360° flight to outmaneuver my enemies. Most people could only fly forward and backward, having to turn to go in other directions. Not me, I was like a hummingbird. “Y’all are slow, you know that? Could’ve almost had a drink!” I taunted. If the little one understood me, maybe they would. Their hyper-aggressive fighting style would play to my advantage as I was in the habit of using my agility to punish wrong moves. So, the more angry and unthinking they were, the better.

I flew straight at one of them, sword in hand, as I tried to bait its allies to save them by raising my sword. It worked wonders. Number two flew at me, trying to punch me off their ally. I leisurely dodged them, took out my handgun, and dumped 5 bullets in his back. The third one tried to go in too, but the smaller fighter lunged at him, launching flashes of light at its head.

Number 1 was the one whose jaw I had already broken, and number 2 had several bullets lodged in his back now. Overall, their state looked pretty poor, but then again, I had a nasty gash on my arm and my legs because of these damned claws. So, looks like we were evenly matched in injuries. Not for long, though.

I flew around them, shooting every so often. I couldn’t really hit them, but that wasn’t my objective. I reloaded my gun to have a full clip when needed. I baited number two towards me with a tired gesture. He took the bait. Before number 2 could reach me, I lunged towards him, hitting his ribs and cracking them. Number 1 was coming in from behind, trying to sandwich me. “So predictable.” As number 1 was about to reach me, I used my flight to go under them, flying in their blind angle below them as I got behind number one. I aimed the shot up, and, as they were turning around to glance down at me, I shot a bullet straight through their head. Number 2 seemed pretty infuriated by the death of his ally and lunged at me. I could have easily taken care of him if it weren’t for number 3, currently opening his jaws wide to bite off the terrified head of the fluffy hero.

I chose to save him, aiming at number three and hitting several hits on its ribs, getting it to drop its prey. Number 2 had taken this moment of distraction to bite down on my neck. I barely blocked it with my arm, which now rested in the powerful beast's jaws. It bit down, hard! My bones slowly cracking under the pressure. I threw my gun up in the air and used my now free hand to hit the windpipe at full strength. The creature looked shocked, as if not used to a prey fighting back. It gasped for air as it stumbled back. I took the moment to grab my gun, which was falling back down, and landed the shot on its head. “HELL YEAH! ONE LEFT TO GO!” I yelled, my combative spirit invigorated.

The last one took a glance at the ground, seeing number 1 dead and number 2 falling to his death, and decided it was not worth it as he turned around and tried to fly as fast as he could. “NO YOU DON’T!” I caught up to him, flying just above, delivering a punch to the back of his skull. Now, they were flying faster than they had ever had! Just downward instead of forward. They reached the ground, forming a crater on impact. The beast tried to get back up, but before it could, I slammed into them with all my velocity, boots caving in its thorax. I looked down at it. The creature was unconscious, and I thought about shooting them dead as I was pretty adamant about killing them. But, on second thought, he had been a fleeing enemy, and killing someone fleeing or surrendering was a big no-no. Besides, its body was already reduced to pulp.

I slowly flew out of the crater I had formed. All around, hidden inside buildings, or frozen in place, dozens of the smaller, vaguely feline-like creatures were observing me. They looked terrified, as if wanting to flee, but unable too. “Well, good thing y'all aren’t cheering any louder, or I’d go deaf,” I said sarcastically. I was used to being praised for my work. Did I do something wrong? No, the little hero wouldn’t have helped me otherwise. Maybe it was just the shock of seeing me.

In any case, with the immediate emergency taken care of, I had one other question to solve. I soared high into the sky, outside of public view. Looking at it now, the sky and the sun were a slightly different shade than what I was used to. Looking down at the ground, I saw buildings, architecture, and land masses I didn’t know of. “Where the hell am I?” I said to myself.

Hey, everyone! Sorry for the short amout of time you all had to endure your withdrawal symptoms, I was on an out-of-state trip for quite a while. This Side Story turned out to be quite long, so I hope you are more than satisfied. Please enjoy, and maybe engage with my posts? Anywho, thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for the OG universe!

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Side Story #3: Baseball

 

Memory Transcription Subject: Kosif Carlyle, soon-to-be molting Arxur

Date: (Standardized Human Time) July 19^(th), 2241

 

I can feel it. The itch. I am so glad Charlie and I cleared up the stuff between us before this started… please let him understand…

Standing in the shower as the warm water flows over me, I scrub the loofah across my scales, endeavoring uselessly to relieve the itch that is still too deep to be touched.

Oh, wonderful loofah, if only you could solve this problem too…

I know what is coming in the next few days. I’ve been through it multiple times, as is natural for an Arxur my age. First, this. A deep agitation that’s too far for my claws to touch. By this time in about two days, I’ll be unable to keep myself from rubbing on any rough surface within sight. Only when a full solar cycle has passed after I begin rubbing does the peeling start.

Maybe Charlie will assist with that? Humans have quite dexterous fingers…

I know that… but he may not want to. As far as I know, humans don’t molt or shed. He may not even understand what’s happening to me.

Worth a shot, isn’t it?

I’ll ask him once the shedding starts.

Resigning myself to at least two solar cycles of itchy hell, I shut off the shower and towel off, clipping my belt on as I re-enter my bedroom. I can hear Charlie moving around in the main living area. I go to join him after I finish stocking my various belt pouches with whatever I might need for today.

“Hey, Kosie,” he says as he clicks off his holopad. “I’ve got a possible thing we can do today. How’d you like to see a key piece of both Terran and American culture?”

“Are we going to see a museum or an art piece? I suppose.”

“Good guess, but it’s something far more interesting, at least in my opinion.”

Phew. I don’t know how long I might have lasted standing around and looking at Terran art, no matter how interesting it may be.

“Did you want to go somewhere like that, because I can totally do that,” I hear Charlie continue.

“No, no. What were you planning?” I say, maybe a bit too fast.

“Does Wriss have sports, maybe professional athletics?”

I mimic a human nod, bobbing my head. “Yes, not that I’m familiar with them. I believe there was one called ‘War Etched in Stone’ where combatants would fight and complete math problems in alternating rounds.”

“Oh, so like chessboxing.”

What?

I tilt my head quizzically. “What… is chessboxing?”

“Same thing but with a strategy game instead of math.”

“Ah. You still haven’t told me where you plan on taking me. Are we going to a sporting event?”

“More than just any sporting event. This is a place where you can eat potentially harmful food, drink cheap alcohol, yell like a maniac, and feel like a stadium full of random strangers are temporarily your friends. We’re gonna go watch baseball.”

“Why would you eat harmful food and drink inebriants? You told me yourself you don’t drink.” As I’m saying this, I use one foot to try and subtly scratch the itch on my calf. Charlie doesn’t seem to notice, or stays silent if he does.

“I don’t drink, and I won’t. I meant you as in, the people who go to a baseball game. When I said the food is potentially harmful, we’re talking cheap hot dogs with all the toppings, nachos slathered with basically cheese-flavored plastic, a Root-44 of drinks. In general, think of Earth’s cheapest snacks sold at regular prices. Half of the fun at a baseball game is just the terribly amazing food.”

“This seems quite interesting. What time are we doing this, and what should I bring in my belt pouches?”

“Hmmm… how badly does ultraviolet light affect your species?”

I tilt my head again. “I mean, if we stay out in the sun too long, of course it hurts.”

“Okay, good. I’ll just find a spot in the shade. We’re heading out in about an hour if you want.” He picks up his pad and begins poking at it. “I’m just confirming our seats. I can explain the game a bit on the way there, if you want.”

“Maybe. I’ll be in my room until we leave.”

“Mm-hmm.”

As I retreat back into my room and make sure the door is firmly closed, I drop to the short fuzzy carpet and start scrubbing myself against it.

Ohh, that’s good. I don’t know if I’d have been able to keep from scratching any longer. Hopefully I’ll be able to find something to scratch against during the baseball game.

I flip onto my back and continue to writhe, sighing gently in relief. My tail thuds loudly against my bedframe.

“Kosie, you all good in there?” I hear Charlie ask, his voice muffled by walls and distance.

“Everything’s fine! I just… tripped.” I reply, hoping he won’t get suspicious.

“’Kay.”

Ugh, why did this have to happen now?

Whaddaya mean now? You’ve been living with Charlie for months, molting was inevitable!

Doesn’t mean I can’t dislike it happening. Just because it’s a fact of life doesn’t mean I want Charlie to see it.

I look at my arms as I lie on the floor. My typical charcoal gray has already begun to lighten ever so slightly. Another sign of my impending molt.

Grunting slightly, I get up from the floor and pull out my holopad to try and research how best to alleviate my suffering, or even temporarily lessen this gods-forsaken itch.

 

 

[1 hour later]

 

Research is very difficult to do when one is, as Terrans say, uncomfortable in their own skin. I sit in the passenger seat of Charlie’s vehicle, attempting to distract myself from the constant need festering under my scales. I spent most of the time before we departed writhing on the carpet between bouts of attempted focus.

Thank the gods that Earth is humid. On Wriss, I would’ve had to pay a visit to the [sauna]. Charlie doesn’t seem to suspect me of anything yet… I dread what his reaction will be to this.

I reach into one of my belt pouches to pull out a small trinket I’d recently acquired: a nail file. After my mistake with the climate control, I noticed I left a few claw marks on Charlie’s back in my sleep, even though he was wearing one of his artificial pelts. I raise the abrader to the tip of my claw and begin sanding gently. Charlie looks over and sees me buffing my claws but doesn’t say anything.

“So… if I understand what you’ve told me, the point of the game is to hit the ball as far as you can, and run as quickly as possible to an established safe area before the ball gets to you?”

“Basically. If you hit the ball far enough, you get to run around all the bases for free. That’s called a home run. Oh, and there’s insults you can yell out to the players on the field. That’s called chirping.”

“Part of the game is to verbally demoralize people who are entertaining you?”

“Yes and no.” Charlie flicks the lever that signals other drivers he’s swapping lanes. “Chirping is slinging insults, but it’s doing it in a funny, harmless way. It’s not tearing someone down for their quality of play, it’s saying that you bet they forget Mother’s Day and are thus absolute bums.”

“I get that forgetting to celebrate your mother is wrong, but… just how bad is it in Terran culture?”

“It’s terrible. We won’t do any physical harm to you, but there is severe dislike when one doesn’t say thank you even once a year to the person who took care of them for the first quarter of their life.”

“So, a possible chirp could be ‘I believe you hoard food’?”

“Closer, but you’d probably pair it with something similar to ‘I heard you hoard food, is that why you run so slow?’ Normal chirps mostly pair their athletic showing with some other insult.”

“You humans and your insults.” I say as I shift slightly, scratching my back on the seat at the same time. “I’ve read about humans who have deprecated their friends with one breath and threatened to cave someone’s skull in when they join in.”

Charlie chuckles a bit. “Yup. Nicknames and insult comedy are a large part of any good Terran relationship, whether it’s family, friends, or anything else. Oh look, we’re here.”

I look out the front glass, seeing the monumental structure that Charlie was approaching. A massive sea of a parking lot lays wrapped around the stadium; vehicles closely dotted across the expanse. The hot sun and muggy air hits me like a brick after the cool, dry air of Charlie’s car. Funnily enough, my itch fades slightly as I stand in the wet air.

Okay, this might not be so bad.

As Charlie leads me through security and towards our ticketed seats, I look around at the diversity of the crowd. If one took a photograph of the crowd, I believe you could find a member of every species discovered in the galaxy to date with enough time. We climb up a few flights of stairs, putting a light stress test on my recent cardio improvements. Not to brag, but I’m not gasping for breath once I reach the top. I’m close, but not entirely there.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Kosie. This is an exchange program thing, so there’ll be other human-Arxur pairs here. I wonder if that one kid I talked to made it into the program…” He gasps as we enter the seating area, revealing the field and the players. “He did! C’mon, Kosie.”

He tugs at my wrist as he descends a shallow set of concrete stairs towards a slightly segregated grouping of chairs. Six human-Arxur pairs sit in plastic chairs, some talking and some staying silent. Charlie rushes ahead of me towards the group, beelining for a younger male human who’s sitting next to their exchange partner, a rather tall male Arxur. I walk over more slowly, sidestepping between two rows of seats to stand beside Charlie.

There’s a lot of other Arxur here… I only recognize some of them from my first day here. There must have been another shipment after mine.

“Kosie, this is someone I met… while you were away.” He gestures to the other male human in front of me. “Meet James, who apparently made it into the program. And your name is?” he turns to James’ partner.

“I am called Evriss,” he states succinctly, looking directly at me. “You are… Kosie. I assume this is a nickname your human gave you?”

I lash my tail in an affirmative. “My real name is Kosif, but Kosie has grown on me in my time here. How long have you been here on Terra?”

“Not long. Only a few solar cycles. I have heard a few stories about the Arxur named Kosif and the Terran named Charlie. Is it true that your human fought your father and won your hand in some kind of trial by combat?”

I pause before letting out an involuntary chirrup of laughter, but my countenance falls as all the memories come to the forefront of my mind. Charlie’s injury, my father’s death, the two days of extreme stress, hunger, and exhaustion.

“Did I say something wrong? I did not mean to cause any adverse reaction.” Evriss asks, tilting his head at my reaction.

I notice that both of our humans have wandered off, sitting with four or five other humans that have also left their partners in favor of other Terrans.

I take a deep breath. “No, you wouldn’t know. Charlie did in fact fight my father, and you could say it was some kind of trial by combat, but… that time on Wriss was a lot. Don’t worry about it.” I look to my human, who’s currently talking with James and a female Terran. “Should we join them?” I ask just as all the exchange humans leap to their feet and start yelling at the field, whooping and cheering as a player sprints around the field, touching the white ‘bases’.

Evriss sighs, waving his tail in resignation. As we move to sit near our Terrans, Charlie stands up and brings his hands to his face as he yells, “Hey, Lewis! Your job is to hit the catcher’s glove, not the batter, YOU BUM!”

Ahh, it seems the ‘chirping’ has begun. Maybe I should try that ‘hoarding food’ comment later.

The humans were all sitting together in a semi-tight seating arrangement, leaving very little space for an Arxur with boundaries. This caused us Wrissians to sit around the nucleus of social humans like much less social electrons. Since I couldn’t sit directly next to Charlie, I placed myself in the row behind him. Evriss sat to my left, a space of two seats between us. I turn my eyes to the game just as the ball is sent soaring towards the opposite side of the ‘diamond’. A player races to get underneath it, raising his glove… and cheers erupt from the stands as he makes the catch.

At one point, Charlie spots a vendor making their way up the shallow concrete stairs towards our seats. Charlie leaps up, squeezing past a few humans and Arxur as he digs out a small plastic card from his pocket. A few minutes later, Charlie sits next to me holding two trays laden with food.

Oh good, I was wondering when the ‘deliciously horrendous food’ was coming.

“Alright, Kosie, I got us the whole package of baseball fare. The classics, if you will. There’s a hot dog, nachos, a bag of popcorn, and a soda if you want it. Essentially, a sausage, two forms of bread, mildly carcinogenic cheese, a fizzy flavored beverage, and you know what popcorn is.”

He hands me the tray, and I set it on my lap after moving the drink to the handy cupholder beside my seat. I notice Evriss looking at the feast before me, but he quickly shifts his gaze back to the field. I flick my tail in an ‘approach’ gesture, trying to catch his attention, but he doesn’t react if he notices.

Hmmm… I would have shared if he wanted some. I wonder if James will purchase any food for him.

I glance at Charlie, who’s enjoying his nachos and watching the field. He didn’t notice Evriss’ look or my invitation.

“Charlie, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit with Evriss.”

He looks up. “Sure, if you want. Enjoy your food before it gets cold though. If you’re moving, I guess I’ll move back with the other humans if that’s good with you.”

“Fine by me. Thank you for the food.’

“No problem, Kosie.”

We each arise and sit in different locations, I with Evriss and he with the other Terrans. As I sit back down, carefully holding the laden plastic slab, Evriss stays quiet.

After a few beats of awkwardness, I break the silence. “Are you hungry? Charlie got me far too much food, and I don’t wish to be a hoarder.”

Another beat of silence between us, punctuated by a cheer of the crowd. I see the Terrans and even an Arxur or two leap to their feet whooping and yelling.

“…either your human has rubbed off on you, or you are a very strange female. You talk quite a lot, as do all the Terrans to a much larger extent. How could you tell I desired sustenance?”

My tail tip waves slightly in a gesture similar to a shrug. “A bit of intuition, and yes, being with Charlie has affected how I act towards others. If you’re like me, then you’re probably still worried that people secretly hate you.” I pick up the sausage in my claws, tearing the whole hot dog in half, bun and all as I continue speaking.   “I’ll tell you now, they don’t unless they explicitly say so. I’ve been served in a restaurant by a Venlil that could simply have refused me any service, and the waitress never lashed her tail.” I hold out one half to Evriss. “We’re no longer the raiders of the galaxy. Now we can act like it. Even when your human talks too much or makes a mistake, or even if you make a mistake, don’t react like you’re only one claw-tip away from the next ship to Wriss. I learned that the hard way. Enjoy your time here.”

He snorts, taking my offering of meat and bread. “You have wisdom. But you still talk far too much. Let us watch this game… and thank you, Kosif.”

We sit together, sometimes cheering at the various athletic feats of the players. Of the various snacks Evriss and I share, the popcorn and the nachos are my favorite. He prefers the hot dog and the drink, which I found far too overstimulating for my tastes. I listen to the various insults and chirps slung by the exchange humans, and my eyes catch on the slight change in Charlie’s skin color.

Is he… pink?  How strange… I’ll have to ask him what that means. Maybe it’s his level of excitement?

The game ends not too long after, as the sun is beginning to reach towards the horizon. The humans became significantly less excited near the very end of the game, and Charlie explained that the ‘home’ team had ended up losing.

“Is there a consequence for being unable to succeed?” I ask, curious if Terran game results carried weight.

“I mean, the fans might be mad at the players, but nothing over-the-top. Did you enjoy yourself? Sorry for leaving you to your own devices.”

“I did enjoy myself at the game, but… I would like if we could stay together more.”

Charlie looks up at the large signs over the sea of asphalt and vehicles, scanning the symbols. “I’ll keep that in mind. I saw you and E talking, are you two friends?”

E?

“You mean Evriss? We are acquainted, but that is all.” I roll my shoulders in a Terran shrug.

Charlie really has rubbed off on me quite a lot, hasn’t he?

“Well, I’m glad you got to meet up with other Arxur. It’s been a while since you’ve met another of your species, and longer still since you had a good interaction with one.” Charlie clicks a fob in his hand twice, causing his nearby vehicle to chirp. After a few more minutes of looking around, we finally find our car.

As the cool and dry air of the AC hits my skin, the itch returns with a vengeance. I hide a few relieving wriggles among my movements to fasten my seatbelt.

This molt cycle is going to be the most gods-forsaken of them all…

I remain silent all the way home, not trusting myself to do anything but focus on not wriggling. Charlie’s skin remains objectively pink, even though it seems he’s calmed down from the excitement.

Maybe that’s not what triggers his skin change… were any of the other humans doing this too?

I think back to the game as Charlie and I enter his domicile, the outside air giving me a precious moment of relief before burdening me once more with the biological urge to just skin myself and be done with it already.

After I place my things in my bedroom and privately writhe on the carpet again, I re-enter the living area to see Charlie in the kitchen with a few tubes, tubs, and bottles in front of him. He’s hiked up the sleeves of his shirt to expose more of his arms, showing a hard line between the normal color of his skin and the pink of his forearms. His hands rub up and down his arms, spreading a topical cream across his skin.

It smells like… medicine? Is he hurt? No, that looks like… molting cream. I shouldn’t watch him do this, he’d do the same for me.

“Kosie, are you okay? You’re just standing there.”

Charlie’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been spaced out looking in his general direction.

“Oh… yes, I’m fine. What are those things you are applying to your skin?”

He looks down at the containers in front of him. “These? Just various creams that are gonna help my skin heal faster. I should warn you, it’ll be ugly for a few days. Peeling, redness, sensitivity, the whole nine yards.”

Hold on a second… humans molt too?! Why didn’t I learn this sooner? Oh gods, this makes everything so much easier when I hopefully start shedding tomorrow.

“Oh, Kosie, that reminds me. Don’t be alarmed if your holopad blows up with notifications. The other humans and I took a few liberties, but I think you’ll like it.”

Oh boy, what has he gone and done now?

“Alright… thanks for the warning, I guess?”

Intensely curious, I go back to my bedroom and unclip my holopad from my belt. As the screen illuminates, I note the grouped alerts at the bottom. The biometric check swiftly completes, and I’m shown chaos in digital form as I bear witness to what the humans call a ‘group chat’.

 

 

CrowdSpeech Transcript Date: July 19^(th), 2241

Chatroom Designation: Exchange Program Group Chat

 

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem has created the chat room.

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem has joined the chat room.

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem has changed the chat room name to Exchange Program Group Chat

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem: Welcome, Terrans and Wrissians, to the very first human-Arxur group chat! This is just a place for us to coordinate hangouts and events outside of the exchange program.

CharlieBuck has joined the chat room.

T-Reth has joined the chat room.

VrissOfWriss has joined the chat room.

OliviaMendoza has joined the chat room.

VrissOfWriss: Why am I included in this?

T-Reth: I agree. Why couldn’t this have just been the humans?

CharlieBuck: We didn’t want to leave anyone out, just in case. Alright, who’s here right now? Can I get a sound off?

Kosie2219 has joined the chat room.

CharlieBuck: Oh good, Kosie’s here.

Evriss has joined the chat room.

Evriss: Why does this exist?

VrissOfWriss: That is what I am curious to learn.

CharlieBuck: Okay, looks like we have three humans and three lizards so far.

OliviaMendoza: Actually, this is Talek using my human partner Olivia’s holopad. We are currently sharing. Olivia says hello.

Kosie2219: Is this *truly* just for planning, or just the humans being aggressively social again?

Evriss: I believe that this is aggressive social bonding again. Apparently because my human partner isn’t talkative enough, the gods have decided to also make me witness to five others.

CharlieBuck: We’re not that bad, are we?

OliviaMendoza: Olivia says no.

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem: Depends on the situation.

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem: Now, what should we do next? Anyone have any ideas on what group thing we should try? I’m thinking something like an amusement park, but that’s expensive.

SivrenTheArxur has joined the chat room.

SlayaQueen has joined the chat room.

GodzillaHugger has joined the chat room.

Evriss: Can we do anything that involves this chat room no longer existing? I’m getting tired of my holopad making noises while I’m trying to simply lay down in utter silence.

CharlieBuck: Evriss, you know you can mute your notifications here, right?

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem: Beat me to it.

Evriss: Thank you. Now I can lay in peace.

SlayaQueen: How about we show the lizards something that defines humanity, like one of our classic movies or plays?

Kosie2219: The last time I was shown classic, humanity-defining movies, I ended up semi regretting it.

GodzillaHugger: Oh boy. Charlie, what did you show her?

Kosie2219: First, a movie called Jurassic Park, and then one called Up. After that, I ended up watching a few more movies made for children before I fell asleep on the couch.

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem: Charlie. You showed her *UP*?! Were you trying to make her cry? I get it, it’s a decent movie for coming out over a century ago, but *come on!*

SivrenTheArxur: I feel I am missing a lot of context. What is Up and why are you all reacting so strongly?

SlayaQueen: Most heart-wrenching first 10 minutes in a movie ever. ‘Nuff said.

CharlieBuck: C’mon, guys! I wanted to expose her to our media, and I picked one of the best movies I know.

OliviaMendoza: Liv here. Charlie, you did *WHAT*! I’m hitting you the next time I see you.

HomeStarRunner has joined the chat room.

HomeStarRunner: Looks like I’m fashionably late.

CharlieBuck: I think everyone’s here, if I counted right. I think we’ll get one more join when Talek gets a new holopad.

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem: Can we get back to the point? Do any of you Arxur have ideas on what we could try doing?

VrissOfWriss: Are there traditional or universal games that are played by all of humanity? Perhaps we could try some of those.

Kosie2219: That sounds like a good idea. But what game?

HomeStarRunner: Tag?

SlayaQueen: You guys can ping me when you figure out what we’re doing. Sarah out.

GodzillaHugger: Maybe Hide and Seek? That’s basically a hunting/stealth game, do you think they’d enjoy it?

CharlieBuck: Sounds good, but where? We can’t just roll up to a playground and start chasing each other around. It’d need to be somewhere real interesting to run through and hide in with lots of spots.

VrissOfWriss: I’m going to bed. That baseball game took a lot out of me.

T-Reth: Same for me, but I kinda want to see what the humans come up with.

OliviaMendoza: Talek here. I’m also going to my room and leaving the holopad to Liv.

Kosie2219: I believe I should also retire. Charlie will likely fill me in later.

McHoustonWeHaveAProblem: Alright, but we take no responsibility for any ideas we have while you guys are away.

 

 

Memory Transcription Subject: Charles ‘Charlie’ Carlyle, sunburned human

Date: (Standardized Human Time) July 20^(th), 2241

 

My eyes open to the sound of my alarm beeping incessantly at me, as is its morning ritual. I peel myself from my sheets, grimacing at the sensation. This isn’t my first sunburn, and it’s very unlikely to be the last. Thankfully, my forearms are already showing signs of peeling soon.

Sucks that you can get burned even in the shade. Going to that game with Kosie and the other exchange pairs was worth it though.

I sit up straighter as I remember what Reth, the other humans, and I had ended up concocting late last night.

Oh man, Kosie’s gonna love this. Everyone’s gonna love it. Too bad all the Arxur except Reth are in the dark because they left too early.

I push myself out of my bed, wincing as I pull a T-shirt over my sun-tickled arms and head. Less than ten minutes later, I’m making breakfast and Kosie’s dragging herself out of her room.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” I say as I transfer her bacon from the pan to the plate. “I’ve got some really good news for you when you’re fully coherent.”

She mumbles something that doesn’t make it through the translator as she trudges into the backyard. When she returns a few minutes later, standing up straighter and with both eyes fully open, I pass my scaly friend her morning coffee. As she takes her first sip, her eyes lock onto my forearms.

“You’re peeling already? I can help with that. One moment please,” she says, looking at the dead skin lifting away from my epidermis before turning away and re-entering her bedroom.

Alien medicine that helps sunburn peel? I should probably do some research before I put it on my skin…

I sit down with my own breakfast and pull out my phone. A few moments later, I’m scrolling through various alien skin repair methods. I hear Kosie’s claws click across the floor behind me, and her hand lands on my shoulder a moment before searing pain rips across the back of my neck. I yell, biting down on multiple expletives as I whip around in my chair and see Kosie… holding a loofah.

“Ow, Kosie! What was that?” I semi-yelp, my hand pressing against the very angry sunburn on my neck.

She flinches backwards, her tail curling slightly around her ankles as her head dips. “I… didn’t think it would hurt you. I was trying to help. Your skin was peeling, and I know that rubbing against things helps relieve the itching and…”

I interrupt her. “Wait, itching? What itching?”

“You know… molt itch.” As Kosie says that, she uses one of her feet to scratch her calf.

“…Molt itch? Kosie, humans don’t molt.”

“But your skin color has changed, you applied lotions and creams, and now your outer layer is falling away.”

I wish I could laugh with the realization, but I’m still too busy wincing in pain. “Kosie, I have a sunburn. Yes, I’m replacing my skin, but not like you are. It’s because I kinda… cooked myself a little bit. And you do not rub loofahs on sunburns.”

“Well, I have learned that. I deeply apologize for the pain I caused you.” Kosie looks down at the bundle of cloth in her hand. “I do have something I need to ask you, if you will hear it.”

“It’s okay, Kosie. Just ask next time. What’s your question?”

Her clawed hand rubs against the back of her neck, a human gesture she must have picked up from me.

Guess I’ve rubbed off on her a lot.

Kosie hesitates for a moment as her claws quietly scrape against her scales. “The reason I assumed you were molting… is because I am too. I know I’ve been behaving strangely since yesterday, and this is why. I’m asking… if you can help me. Please.”

Now that I’m looking at her more closely, I see the wrinkles at her joints, the subtle fade to her scales, and the slight discomfort in her stance.  Her other palm grinds against her side briefly before scratching across her chest.

Oh Lord, she’s been miserable and I haven’t even noticed… I need to fix that for next time.

“Of course, Kosie! I can’t believe I never realized… I’m so sorry.” Now it’s my turn to hang my head. “What do you need help with?”

“It’s my fault too, I shouldn’t have been so scared to tell you. You fought my father and dragged me on a sled across my home planet, and I’m scared of telling you I’m molting?” She gives off a churring noise that I assume is a chuckle. “I just need your help when my peel happens. It should begin at some point today or tomorrow at the latest. Sorry again… and thank you.”

I chuckle softly with her. “No problem. I signed up for this when I entered the exchange, I should have expected this. Now, I have some news for you.”

She raises one of her eye ridges, another human expression she’s gained by osmosis. “And that is?”

“You ever heard of an IKEA? Sarah knows someone who can get us in after closing.”

 

 

To be continued in Side Story #4…

NEXT>>

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Aboard the Venusian Dreadnought Niobe

Captain William Revelin always stood instead of sitting while on duty. Everyone always thought it was so that he could get a better view of things, or look more senatorial to his crew, or any number of other things. The reality was he thought the command seat was terribly uncomfortable. It was designed for a person a good deal smaller than his 2 meter, 100 kilogram frame.

The Starjumper First In Class had sent along the coordinates as well as the optimization code for their reactors. Venus didn’t run the latest, highest output reactors like the AIs did; they prioritized reliability and repairability over raw power. Still, Class’ optimizations allowed them to link to the Reach in 4 hops rather than the expected 6.

None of this information, nor the AI named Gord sitting sideways in his chair idly kicking his legs, helped Will’s massive headache.

****

A month after they returned, Will and the rest of the crew of Lavinia had been possessed by an intense desire to go back to Empress Melody, their Empress. People had told them it was in their heads, some psychological thing, not real, but he and the crew were driven by a compulsion to return. After playing along with everyone until they were released, they reunited and conspired to steal Niobe and return.

Will smiled as he remembered the theft. It was too easy. Forged orders were created by Bev, and nobody even thought to call HQ to verify. She flashed the orders, and the guards stepped aside. They had cast off and were preparing to link to a Gate before anyone even noticed. Instead of another dreadnought coming alongside for a broadside, a friggin AI starjumper linked next to Niobe, dangerously close and overrode their radio signals.

The voice explained that they knew what they were going through, what had happened, and that they could help. Looking back, Will realized that the AI did not say what they would help with, only that they could help. Still, they permitted the hard connection, and when the airlock opened, two grenades were tossed in.

Grenades in the confined spaces of a starship were considered a war crime given the propensity for collateral damage, but these were modified teargas grenades. Instead of tear gas, a thick, black, oily mist shot out of them, rolling along the floor, eventually becoming ankle deep. Scrambling for masks and shouting that it was a trap, Will distinctly remembered the smell. The grenades smelled like…cookies. Why does the tear gas smell like cookies? was his thought, before collapsing.

Waking up in medical, Will and the rest of the crew were lightly restrained in the beds with an AI - Will would later learn his name was Gord - standing over him, while another, much taller AI with silver hair frowned.

“Welcome back, Captain Revelin!” Gord said brightly. “Sorry about the welcome, but we weren’t sure how you were going to treat our entrance.”

“Wh-what did you do?” Will said, as he winced. Talking hurt. Everything hurt.

“Congratulations are in order! We have successfully broken the control Melody’s Voice had over you. Try thinking about going back to the Reach, what do you feel?”

Will tried, and the burning, churning desire was...gone. He felt slightly silly that he wanted to go back there so badly. His eyes flicked over to Gord and then the other AI and he raised his eyebrows.

“The Voice is the product of a nanoscale distributed intelligence,” The other one said, her contralto voice clear and precise. “The nanomachines pass the blood/brain barrier and manipulate the neurons directly, making the orders that the Empress gives physically impossible to resist.”

“That explained how it worked,” Will said, trying to sit up. Gord reached over and undid his chest and arm straps and he said up, rubbing where the belts had restrained him. “But it doesn’t explain why it doesn’t work now.”

“We made our own nanites that took apart Melody’s nanites.” Gord said.

“That is a simplification bordering on irresponsible, Gord.” The other said frowning.

“Come on, Chloe. Captain Revelin doesn’t need to know the nuts and bolts of it.” Gord looked back at Will. “What you need to know is that we have an anti-nanite gas now, and we’re going back to the Reach.”

“Why?”

Gord began counting on his fingers. “One, we’re going to rescue Melody and the others if we can. There’s no reason to keep folks from our side of the galaxy there. Two, we’ll pick up Raaden and the Crown Prince and return them to you. Three, we’re going to eliminate the Reach’s war making ability.”

Will was concentrating, trying to follow Gord’s explanation, but his head hurt so much, it was difficult to keep up. “Why are you rescuing Raaden and the Crown Prince?”

“Special favor to the Emperor.” Gord said with a sly grin. “He and I came to an understanding.” Chloe rolled her eyes at this.

“Eliminate their war making ability?”

“Destroy their weapons as well as eliminate their starships.” Chloe said.

“Can’t they build more?”

“Technically yes, but with the humans and k’laxi gone they won’t know how to get to Sol.” Gord said. “It’s not a great solution, but it’s better than nothing.”

“And it’s better than murdering 12 million people.” Chloe said firmly. “We’re not going to destroy the Reach.”

“Okay, so why-” Will gestured around “-all this? Couldn’t you have done it on your own?”

“Sure, but by bringing you, not only can we show Raaden and the others that we can neuter the Nanites, but we can show them how well we’re working together. I’m hoping that Raaden will be more likely to come along quietly if you’re with us Will. That said, if you and your crew don’t want to come you don't have to.”

“This is not an order from the Emperor, but a request.” Chloe said, showing him a piece of vellum written in a stead hand, and sighed with the burgundy and gold seal of the Emperor. “You may refuse.” She added.

“If you think we can refuse a hand-written request from the Emperor himself, then you do not know our Emperor.” Will said. “But, it’s not necessary, we’ll help. What do you need?”

****

“We’ve arrived at the Reach, Gord.” Will said, turning towards him, his lips a thin line. Will hadn’t said anything about Gord sitting in his seat, and they were engaged in a cold war trying to get the other one to act first. “What do you recommend?”

“Target any and all starships in the area.” Gord said idly. “Umbilicals too. We don’t want any escapees. Our information says they’re basically made of tissue compared to our ships, a couple of shots should do it.”

“Target the ships in the area, maximum power.” Will said to the weapons officer. He heard the WEP sirens in the distance and felt the buzz rise in his feet as the reactors aboard spun into overdrive, giving Niobe the energy needed for her exawatt batteries. With a noise that sounded for the life of Will like the biggest static electricity snap, the ship fired upon the three ships in the vicinity. As Gord said, they were immediately defeated.

The sensor officer, without looking up from her station said, “We’re being targeted. Exawatt batteries attached to the Reach are target seeking.”

“Ah, so Melody did wind up using the parts from Lavinia.” Gord said, finally looking up.

“Target those batteries,” Will said. “Missiles and Exawatts.”

“Aye, Captain.”

****

Gord felt the missiles streak away from Niobe. They were no match for even a well trained human crew, but he had a hunch that other than Melody’s little cadre, nobody aboard knew how to use them. His hunch was confirmed when the laser batteries tried to fire on the incoming missiles. The shots were wide and ragged, as if they were being aimed manually. He stood and stretched. For a moment, Gord lamented not being able to get Captain Revelin to comment on him taking his seat, but there would be plenty of times to needle him later. “Will, me and my group are going to go aboard. While we do that, please dock with the Reach.”

“You just ordered us to destroy the umbilicals,” Will said, deciding to not mention that Gord called him Will instead of Captain Revelin.

“Yes, and I also know you have a breaching team aboard and are able to cut a sally port.” Gord countered.

Even though he didn’t get to needle him about the seat, it did bring Gord a measure of satisfaction as Will processed that the AI faction knew all about their breaching capabilities; something the Venusians worked very hard to keep quiet. Despite himself, Gord was impressed when he looked into it. All Venusian ships had the ability to attach themselves to an enemy ship or station and cut their way in, avoiding the common choke-point of the airlock.

Without a word, Will reached over and pressed a button his his chair, and another tone sounded, and a voice called for action stations. “Breaching tends to take three to five minutes.” He said.

“We won’t need that long.” Gord replied as he made his way towards the door. “We’ll go over first and then ping me when you’ve cut through.”

“Go over firs- Gord! How the fuck are you getting onto the Reach?”

“It’s a surprise.”

In the small docking bay of Niobe, Gord’s small ship, Medicine Hat, was sitting, bored. Gord asked Hat to come along on this trip, but as just a passenger. There was plenty of media to consume, and enough games to keep an intelligence going until the stars went cold, but that didn’t stop Hat from being bored out of his mind, until he heard the call for Action Stations and Gord striding inside.

“About time something was happening.” Hat said. “I was getting ready to get a body just so that I could start pacing.”

“Hold onto that feeling, because a ton of shit is going to start happening all at once.” Gord said as he made his way towards an equipment locker just off Hat’s airlock. “Did you get the scans I asked for?”

“The penetrating radar? I did. Venus didn’t even notice,” Hat said. One benefit of working with folks without AI ships is that an actual AI could rummage around inside the ship and - if they were careful - be unnoticed.

“Good. Send me a coordinate set for just outside the docks, and then get permission to leave the hold and take up station outside near First In Class.”

“You got it Gord, but wh- oh fuck no, Gord.” Hat said, his voice rising in intensity. “You can’t use that.”

“I have to, Hat.” Gord said kindly. He was putting on what looked like a very large, very heavy matte black hiking pack, only it also had pieces that went down the back of his legs, and another part that slid up and connected to the back of his neck with ten very thin wires. It was like wearing the environmental pack from an old space suit without the suit.

“The personal wormhole generators have a one in fifty failure rate.” Hat said. “That’s an unacceptable risk.”

“No, those Nanites getting out is an unacceptable risk. Every risk taken to prevent that from happening is worth it.” Gord said firmly. “Hat we are not going back to the way things were. I refuse.”

“How are you going to get everyone back, you only have the one pack?”

“I’m not. Will is going to cut a sally port and they’ll escape that way.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Too bad, Hat. Its my body and I choose to do this insane thing.” Gord said as he clipped the last bits of the personal wormhole generator to his back. His vision was overlaid with a new HUD giving him spatial information about the area around and as he moved his head towards the Reach, he could see a few pixels light where his destination was. He grabbed a few more anti-nanite grenades and began to charge the capacitors, with a whine like an ancient camera flash. “As soon as I’m gone, get out and go to Class.”

“I’m only doing this because I trust you, Gord.” Hat said, but Gord could feel the timbre of the ship change as he warmed things up.

“That was your first mistake, friend.” Gord said, and with a blinding flash of white and a titanic thunderclap, disappeared.

First: Chapter 1

Previous: Chapter 14

Ae woke up in a cold sweat, frozen as his eyes darted every which way. Forcing his head towards Oril's side, he finds her bed empty. As soon as his brain registered what was happening, his heart began to race, just as shadowy figures morphed out of the darkness of the room, grabbing and clapping at his arms and legs.

As he began to shake and began trying to free himself, the shadowy figure forms suddenly began taking shape and he started to make out the conscript service uniform, skin, and hair…however, their face remained blank, as if covered by a smooth layer of clay like skin.

Now he was fully panicking. He jerked his arm hard enough to free it from one of the figures, before throwing a punch to the figure across from him to his left which held down his other arm.

As soon as the hit landed on the figure’s face, they all froze, so did his resistance. But just as his confusion set in, the dark room of his dorm suddenly blinked new light, illuminating the familiar scene of his classroom when he was on Earth.

His attention turned back to his situation, only to find the figures gone and his bed turned into the utilitarian gray steel standard issued desk, lined 8 by 8, empty. In front of him the hollowgram projector floated imagies he could barely comprehend yet looked familiar, as if he was grasping for a rope just a few inches out of his reach.

He blinked, and as soon as his eyelids opened, sounds registered of a person speaking, followed by the classroom suddenly being filled with his fellow conscripts, while at the front, an instructor pointing at the projector’s images while he spoke what sounded like English yet Ae couldn't understand. Around him, his fellow conscripts sat at perfect posture, back straight, one arm on the lap, while the other laid idle on the desk.

Then the background noise he still couldn't discern suddenly rose to a fever pitch and his sight was encompassed by the images projected by the projector. As he leaned into focus, he started making out a shape…and the shape into a face and that face…into Oril's.

Just as his mind thought about that name, the scenery changed again. The classroom opened up into a clear morning sky clouds drifting ever so often as the sound of wind passed him. The grass under him was perfectly green as trees dotted the wide open field in front of him. A bit far from him, he could see a clearing…no, a farm…his grandpa’s farm! He remembers!

The memories flooded him all at once, nearly overwhelming. He stumbled back and propped himself against the old oak that seemed to have appeared randomly. Then, he is reminded again, this was the tree he used to play around as a child, an era oh so long ago.

He shut his eyes a bit longer than usual, and as he opened them, his eyes landed on a tan-ish brown feathered being. Oril. Their eyes met and Ae’s heart raced as if he was back in the hunting week. Oril’s eyes didn't exactly glimmer under the cool shade of the tree, but it really did seem like they glowed.

“Ae.” Oril said in a smooth voice, her eyes diving deep into his’s and—

Suddenly he jolted awake. He pinched himself to made sure he was awake, feeling the pain, he calmed down and began recovering thought. His body covered in sweat despite the cool atmosphere the room maintained. His mind raced in a confusing haze as they filled with past interactions with Oril.

Turning toward's Oril's side of the room, he could see her figure in the dark. She faced the wall as she laid curled in on herself, legs tucked into her chest while her wing arm things wrapped around them. Ae held his breath so he could hear his surroundings. The little coo’s Oril did occasionally in her sleep made themselves known just as he continued his regular breathing. Cute

He growled and flashed his teeth just for a moment as his mind and heart fought. His heart wasn't supposed to fight, its sole purpose was to pump blood, but yet, what was this feeling he was having?

He lets out a scoff as he rolls back on his bed, his back towards Oril. He was confused. Worried. Maybe even…scared.

(-Back, regular uploads will begin every Saturday or Sunday starting next Saturday-)

Next:

First: Chapter 1

Previous: Chapter 14

Ae woke up in a cold sweat, frozen as his eyes darted every which way. Forcing his head towards Oril's side, he finds her bed empty. As soon as his brain registered what was happening, his heart began to race, just as shadowy figures morphed out of the darkness of the room, grabbing and clapping at his arms and legs.

As he began to shake and began trying to free himself, the shadowy figure forms suddenly began taking shape and he started to make out the conscript service uniform, skin, and hair…however, their face remained blank, as if covered by a smooth layer of clay like skin.

Now he was fully panicking. He jerked his arm hard enough to free it from one of the figures, before throwing a punch to the figure across from him to his left which held down his other arm.

As soon as the hit landed on the figure’s face, they all froze, so did his resistance. But just as his confusion set in, the dark room of his dorm suddenly blinked new light, illuminating the familiar scene of his classroom when he was on Earth.

His attention turned back to his situation, only to find the figures gone and his bed turned into the utilitarian gray steel standard issued desk, lined 8 by 8, empty. In front of him the hollowgram projector floated imagies he could barely comprehend yet looked familiar, as if he was grasping for a rope just a few inches out of his reach.

He blinked, and as soon as his eyelids opened, sounds registered of a person speaking, followed by the classroom suddenly being filled with his fellow conscripts, while at the front, an instructor pointing at the projector’s images while he spoke what sounded like English yet Ae couldn't understand. Around him, his fellow conscripts sat at perfect posture, back straight, one arm on the lap, while the other laid idle on the desk.

Then the background noise he still couldn't discern suddenly rose to a fever pitch and his sight was encompassed by the images projected by the projector. As he leaned into focus, he started making out a shape…and the shape into a face and that face…into Oril's.

Just as his mind thought about that name, the scenery changed again. The classroom opened up into a clear morning sky clouds drifting ever so often as the sound of wind passed him. The grass under him was perfectly green as trees dotted the wide open field in front of him. A bit far from him, he could see a clearing…no, a farm…his grandpa’s farm! He remembers!

The memories flooded him all at once, nearly overwhelming. He stumbled back and propped himself against the old oak that seemed to have appeared randomly. Then, he is reminded again, this was the tree he used to play around as a child, an era oh so long ago.

He shut his eyes a bit longer than usual, and as he opened them, his eyes landed on a tan-ish brown feathered being. Oril. Their eyes met and Ae’s heart raced as if he was back in the hunting week. Oril’s eyes didn't exactly glimmer under the cool shade of the tree, but it really did seem like they glowed.

“Ae.” Oril said in a smooth voice, her eyes diving deep into his’s and—

Suddenly he jolted awake. He pinched himself to made sure he was awake, feeling the pain, he calmed down and began recovering thought. His body covered in sweat despite the cool atmosphere the room maintained. His mind raced in a confusing haze as they filled with past interactions with Oril.

Turning toward's Oril's side of the room, he could see her figure in the dark. She faced the wall as she laid curled in on herself, legs tucked into her chest while her wing arm things wrapped around them. Ae held his breath so he could hear his surroundings. The little coo’s Oril did occasionally in her sleep made themselves known just as he continued his regular breathing. Cute

He growled and flashed his teeth just for a moment as his mind and heart fought. His heart wasn't supposed to fight, its sole purpose was to pump blood, but yet, what was this feeling he was having?

He lets out a scoff as he rolls back on his bed, his back towards Oril. He was confused. Worried. Maybe even…scared.

(-Back, regular uploads will begin every Saturday or Sunday starting next Saturday-)

Next:

Start | Previous | Next

Chapter 62: Soul and Body

“This place looks like a tomb,” Viktor said.

“For it is a tomb, Sovereign of the Dungeon,” replied Khenemhotep.

Viktor chuckled. “What for? It’s not like someone has died and needs to be buried here.”

“You have appointed me to be the Custodian of this floor, tasked with shaping it to stand strong against those who would intrude. This is the purpose I have taken to heart. The tombs of old were furnished with devices of defense, to protect them from the hands that would profane the dead. Thus, I say to you, it is only fitting I do the same here.”

Viktor could see his point. The interior of this building was a labyrinth of long, narrow corridors, much like the maze on the first floor, but worse in every way. After all, the first floor was designed to be “friendly” to the adventurers, in appearance at least, with the ceiling lit by mana that only faded gradually as they ventured deeper. But here? There was only darkness. He wouldn’t be able to see a thing were it not for the torch Khenemhotep was holding. And to make matters worse, the passages here were sloped, turning any sort of combat into an absolute nightmare.

“Moreover, living in this place brings me comfort,” the Guardian continued. “For I am a priest of the Bearded God, and I have spent more time in tombs than in my own home.”

With Khenemhotep by his side, Viktor walked down the dark corridor. True to his words, the undead priest moved with the ease of someone returning home, as though every block of stone in the wall, every speck of dust in the air, were the old friends he hadn’t seen in years. Eventually, the passage opened into a small room. There, the path split into two. One leading up, the other going down.

“Which one takes us to the staircase to the third floor?”

“The path that ascends, Sovereign of the Dungeon.”

Viktor chuckled again. “Very counter-intuitive. I love it.”

“If we take that path, we shall reach the Great Hallway, a lofty corridor, its walls angling inward. Beyond that lies the Chamber of the Dead, though here it serves as the arena of the second floor. And farther still, past that, is the ladder to the third.”

“And the passage that leads down?”

“There is a chamber beneath, where I have placed the skeletons I gathered from the pit of disposal. They will be prepared there, and once that is done, they will be raised to serve as sentinels of this tomb.”

“Interesting,” Viktor said. “Let’s have a look then.”

“As you command, Sovereign of the Dungeon.”

Khenemhotep raised the torch and began the descent. The corridor ahead was dark, long, and narrow, no different from the one they had just walked through. The deeper they went, the colder it grew. Anyone who had made it to this place might easily forget that there was a burning desert right outside these stone walls.

As they emerged into the chamber below, the flickering torchlight revealed rows of stone slabs, upon each of which lay a skeleton. Most of them were complete. Of course, Viktor couldn’t say for certain whether any of the smaller bones were missing, but the major components seemed to be all there. The skulls were intact, the ribcages aligned, the spines straight, the pelvises centered, and the arms and legs placed at the sides.

When his minions dumped the bodies of the dead adventurers into the disposal pit, they certainly didn’t do it with care. The corpses, once tossed in, lay one on top of another, left to rot and collapse into tangled piles of bone. For Khenemhotep to reassemble them into orderly arrangements like this, it must have taken a great deal of effort. Furthermore, each set of bones not only appeared complete, but also looked... correct. The components matched each other perfectly, as if all the bones indeed belonged to a single individual, and not a patchwork pieced together from a dozen different bodies.

Viktor walked up to a nearby skeleton. “These bones,” he asked. “Do they come from one person? And if so, how exactly did you put it back together?”

“The soul and the body are not separate, but they are one and the same. Each shapes the other. The soul leaves its mark on the flesh, and that mark remains even after the soul has departed, like a reflection in the mirror, like an echo in the void. The bones of a man still sing the song they sang in life. Subtle, but not beyond hearing. And I listen for it. I lay the bones side by side, and if they sing in harmony, then shall I know they were joined in life.”

“I see,” Viktor said, tapping lightly on the crown of the skeleton’s skull. “So, what’s the song of this one? What does it tell you about who he used to be?”

Khenemhotep stood motionless for a moment, his glowing eyes closing as he listened to something only he could hear. Then he spoke.

“These are the bones of a woman, Sovereign of the Dungeon. A soul gentle and kind at heart. She was a young maiden, who chose the path of a healer, seeking only to ease the suffering of other people. She had a younger sister, whom she loved deeply. Their life was humble, but not without joy. But sorrow found her through her work, as healing brought little coin, and debt began to weigh heavily on her. The burden grew, and desperation drove her to dangerous choices. In the end, she met death in despair and great fear, her heart trembling as she pleaded for her life. Yet, even with her final breath, her thoughts were not for herself, but for the sister she left behind. Her sorrow was complete in that parting.”

I think I know who this is, Viktor thought. He had forgotten her name, but she must be Rhea’s older sister, one of the first adventurers he lured to his dungeon.

“A great sorrow,” Khenemhotep said. “She had a great affinity for the arcane. Had she been given the chance to grow, she might have become a mage of great renown. But alas, her days were cut short, and her potential went unrealized.”

Viktor wasn’t so sure about that. Even if she had stayed out of the dungeon and survived, her life likely wouldn’t have taken any grand turn. Her debts were a heavy chain around her neck, and no matter how hard she struggled, they would only drag her deeper and deeper. Barring a miracle, like being taken under the wing of a wealthy patron or influential organization, she was never going to be a great mage. Most likely, she would have spent the rest of her days as just another low-ranked adventurer.

“If this skeleton has great affinity for magic,” he asked, “then can you raise it to become a powerful undead mage?”

“It is not so simple, Sovereign of the Dungeon. These bones are not sentient. A shadow of memory lingers, but the soul has long since departed. When I raise them, they are but vessels, puppets without their own will. I can shape this one into a bearer of sorcery, and indeed, she is better suited for that than the others. Yet, in the end, she remains but a conduit, through which my power flows.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Viktor said, looking around. “Is there anyone else here that stands out to you?”

Khenemhotep turned and walked a few paces down the line, stopping beside a slab, upon which lay one of the few incomplete skeletons.

“These bones once belonged to a powerful sorceress. A prideful woman, who beguiled many by her charms and gained advantage by deceit. Yet, within her burned the heart of a mother, gentle and watchful over her child. The way she died remains a mystery to me, for her skull is still missing. I have spent a long time searching the pit for it, but it is nowhere to be found.”

A sorceress, who was powerful, seductive, and headless? It wasn’t hard to guess who this was.

“Forget about it,” Viktor said. “It’s ended up in Sebekton’s belly.”

Khenemhotep shook his head. “A great sorrow.”

I think I’ve seen enough, Viktor thought. He should leave the undead priest to his task, as there was no reason for him to bother more with the details. He had a dungeon to run, after all. He would wait until the dead rose, then put them to the test in combat.

Just as he was about to say farewell to Khenemhotep and ask Celeste to teleport him out, however, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“High Priest,” he asked, “you said that the soul and the body are intertwined, and one affects the other, right? So what will happen if a soul inhabits a body that wasn’t originally its own?”

“What you are asking about is called possession, Sovereign of the Dungeon. And it is a matter most complex. No two cases are the same, so there is no one answer. Most of the time, the body rejects the invading soul, trying to cast it out. Yet, if the soul is strong enough, and backed by powerful sorcery, it can take control, manipulating the body like a puppet. The same as I shall do with these bones.”

Was it really the case? Was he controlling Quinn’s body like a puppeteer pulling the strings? No, he didn’t feel it that way. The body didn’t resist. It didn’t reject him. No, it felt as if it was his own, as if he had always existed in it.

He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers, touching his skin. Those were Quinn’s hands, Quinn’s fingers, Quinn’s skin. But there was no alienness to it. No foreignness. It felt like he belonged here. He wasn’t manipulating this body by some magic. He was living in it. Breathing, moving, being.

What if... what if he was actually a Quinn with the memories of a Viktor?

No! That’s ridiculous!

“High Priest,” he asked, “you said the body usually resists the soul. So what happens in the cases where it doesn’t?”

“It is rare, but it does happen. Sometimes, the body and the soul are found to be in harmony, and they bond as if they always belonged to the same person.”

“And the soul will be affected by the body?”

“Verily.”

“In other words,” Viktor asked, “you’re telling me that the soul will slowly forget itself and become someone else?”

“It is possible, yet not in every case. As I have said, each needs to be judged according to its own nature. And more importantly, Sovereign of the Dungeon, it is not memory alone that makes a man who he is. For a man does not cease to be himself just because he forgets. Even you don’t remember the days of your infancy, yet you are still the same soul that once lived in that child.”

Maybe you’re right, but I refuse to lose my memories as Viktor.

“Tell me, High Priest,” he said with a low voice. “If there ever comes a day when the soul forgets who it really was, would it even realize it had changed?”

“It would not. It would believe it had always been that way.”

And in the dark, Viktor said nothing.

There comes a time, when each species hits an ‘apex’. The cheapest way to think about it is self-annihilation. After all, unfortunately, that’s how many species do it; either by simply being unable to set aside their differences and bombing one another into extinction, or a fundamental acceptance of entropy on a level that dictates nothing but total elimination of everything they are.

But extinction is far from the only apex.

Many species have sought out an ascension, or simply embraced the calm, small lives we have to ourselves, or even achieved such an innate, true understanding of the universe that they become beings truly incomprehensible, untouchable, even divine, in a sense.

It takes many, many forms. But each species always hits their apex before they hit ten million years of age since their first tools. Stars blink with ancient wills, foreign minds and unknowable truths that call to each mind, each species, and it’s not even infrequent for a species to have separate apexes. The Inlo can still be found today, as either a people of content nomads who can only be found on their homeworld, or among impenetrable flagships of isolated societies, cocoons that will never again emerge into the outer galaxy.

Neither will change. Neither will grow. In essence, the once mighty Inlo are a relic of the past, gone into naught but the pages of a universal history that fluctuates and shivers with the ripples of conquerors and pacifists alike.

Many species have hit this point of their lifespan, where they, themselves choose to stop growing. Where they become a relic. And the thing is, relics can still be capable of a great many things…

And the longest-lived relic of all, is the Humans.

Their apex was a strange one. In the history pages, Humans were galactic tyrants. Worlds burned at their beck and call, and for a hundred thousand years, the Laniakea Galaxy Cluster was ravaged by humans, bursting from the Milky Way Dead Zone like an angry hive. Stars were forever snuffed from the night sky, and the longest-lasting empire ever seen had ushered in what’s now known as the Age of Darkness in the galaxy.

But the Laniakea Empire went quiet three million years ago, eleven million years after Humanity’s advent of tools, a million years later than the previously-recorded longest time until apex. And what emerged, was the steadiest, slowest apex of a species ever recorded.

Humans could still be found as recently as five years ago. Across the length of their fall, until their recent, official extinction, what became of humanity was the largest humanitarian effort ever committed across the universe. They stopped expanding, and started offering aid, in any form they could. Just not weapons. Never weapons.

It’s still unknown just how many lives were saved, but with the expanse of the Laniakea Empire’s remnants, it’s estimated to be well in the quintillions by the modern day. Human ships were a welcome sight across every corner of the galaxy, each one a harbinger of good health and fortune as they drifted from station to moon.

All they ever asked was that their patients helped others, too.

And they never picked sides.

It was the Third Remnant War that ultimately led to this graceful people finally dying off. By the war’s start, their birth rate had drastically declined, each child cared for and celebrated by a small city as their population dwindled to a mere hundred million. In a war with billions of soldiers, and hundreds of billions of civilians, their aid was seen as a noble gesture to some, a nuisance to others, and, to the few who saw them in action, the work of angels in a sophont-made hell.

They didn’t pick sides. The humans would save Baxis and Ultimuns alike, wrapping pluribus on every bullet hole and shrapnel gash they could find. Alien technologies beyond our understanding brought the dead back to life and stabilized whole continents. And when the pluribus, and the unknowable aid from stars forgotten finally ran out, they didn’t stop there. They tattered their clothes, tying primitive gauzes and using empty rifles as splints. They set bone with their hands, and painfully sewed ribboned flesh together with their nimble little primate paws, even as thousands of them were caught in the crossfire.

In the end, a bloody conflict over a handful of stars that threatened to claim hundreds of millions of lives had its death toll reduced to a tenth of what was theorized. Their city ships ran themselves ragged, and everyone who fought in that war has at least one tale about the human race…

But the Ultimun people were sour about their loss. And their leaders needed someone to blame, else the blame fall on them.

The human xenocide wasn’t even noticed. Retreating home after the war, the Milky Way Dead Zone was always a very difficult galaxy to get messages in or out. By the time we started getting the distress calls, the longest-standing sentient species in recorded history was already dead.

Fourteen million years of history, three million years of generosity, snuffed out as a scapegoat.

There’s not much we can do for them now. Even the subsequent Ultimun War, where their empire was reduced to a complete and unconditional surrender for their crimes, was not something the humans would have wanted done in their names. Clones have already been made, but in all their nigh-eternal essence, humanity is dead.

Yet, it’s not reported on enough about how they still live on, I feel. Their history is a storied one, from the Laniakea Empire, spanning the whole galaxy cluster, to the Apex of Humanity, to their final time extending a hand to us. And each step, each breath, still lives on through those of us who remember.

I am proposing a resurrection of humanity. Not through clones, but through something else.

The Hippocrates Hexway is a little pet project of mine. Instantaneous travel of humanitarian aid can reach war-torn corners of the universe in record time, expand our efforts to explore this realm’s furthest corners, and serve as an early warning to external threats to our known societies. The humans aren’t here to do it for us anymore. It’s up to us to help eachother.

__

Bwah, been a while since I've written up anything new! Apologies for that...

Might be a bit rusty, but I hope you fine fellas enjoyed this little short blurb of mine!

First

Cats, Cops and C4

The artifact is... not any less complicated or intense for the fact he’s examining it from behind. Or despite the fact that there are several layers of paper, cloth and even a wooden wall between him and it. None of it impedes his ability to see the downright dizzying array of Axiom totems overlayed on top of each other.

“Well?” Observer Wu asks from the side. He was around the corner of a wall that had layers of trytite panels in it. Only enough Axiom to stop someone from dying was allowed into the area and any Adept trying to do anything would find themselves heavily limited to extreme close range abilities.

“The best way I can describe the sheer complexity of this is to have you imagine all the differeing little effects that a vehicle running off of Axiom uses. Can you hold that in your mind?”

“I can.”

“Good, now imagine an extremely successful and large dealership specializing in Axiom based Vehicles.”

“I can do that.”

“The entirety of it’s stock is effectively compressed into a singular mirror. That is the level of complexity we’re seeing here. Only Gravia are more complicated and they’re living equations capable of learning, growing, aging and even reproducing despite being made of pure energy. Wait...” William pauses and he considers that train of thought. “Actually... yes. It is very similar to a Gravia’s natural structure now that I think about it. The pattern is... somewhat there.”

He raises a hand and starts pointing along to help with his reading before he nods. “There are... I can’t make it out too much at the moment, but more than one active mirror clone. I won’t be able to tell more unless another clone is created or destroyed. As it is now I can tell there is more than one clone.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, we should get a Gravia contractor in here. Their Axiom sensitivity and sheer mental might will help crack this in a hurry. I can see... all of it. But I don’t fully know I’m looking at. I can presume part of this allows the mirror clones to be out of sight of the mirror itself. But I can’t tell what part is that and what part is the one that makes a mirror clone completely aggressive to their original, or which part makes it so that a mirror clone can only be harmed by the original without harming the original. Which is something we haven’t tested with this mirror, but would be unwise and dangerous to test.”

“So it’s beyond your skill?”

“My skill is in perception Observer Wu, I can certainly say that this thing is immensely complicated, and if some part of the Axiom structure offends I can pull it apart. But I don’t know what it will do, they’re all tied together and working as one. It would be like toying with the source code of a program. Even a single errant or missing digit could cause catastrophe. And considering the sheer energy that the mirror is holding... Well, it’s comparable to a starship engine mid-Laneway.”

“Which is an absurd amount of power.” Observer Wu states.

“Correct.”

“I see. Well my curiosity... while not fully satisfied, is as satisfied as it can safely be. Thank you Sergeant Smith.”

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Tertiary Equipment Room, Undaunted Intelligence, Undaunted Territory, Centris)•-•-•

“So... Axiom Ride Plasma Pistol.” Bernice notes.

“No identifying marks on the outside, The question is what do we do with it? Do we repair it and use it? Or do we break it down for the parts? Perhaps the value of the metal?”

“When we need something destroyed we have a lot options. Options this little monster can pay for.”

“Yes, but only so many times. This is... absurdly valuable.” Bernice says.

“Heh, the little piece of this that was broken is big enough to be repurposed into an engine big enough for the Dauntless, easy.” Xona says examining the weapon with her wings shifted into a pair of arms that looks through it. She smirks and puts it back down. “I’ve got a lot of Gohbs in the family. I know my way around engines and weapons. This is not an amateur’s weapon, it has no signs of mass production tooling or commercial printing. No whoops marks either. But it’s got nothing to tell us where it’s from. No serial numbers on any parts, no artisan’s signature. Which is really damn weird as working with Axiom Ride like this is generally the work of the super rich or super skilled. Too expensive to put it in a position where you can lose grains or shavings of it.”

“Whoops marks?”

“What the family calls small, but harmless mistakes. You know, little scratches or dents. Things like that. This gun is made perfectly, but not artistically. It’s not mass produced, and it’s not made by the hand of an expert, they’d put their mark on it.”

“Unless they were paid a lot more to not do so.”

“Hmm... maybe? Probably not though. A weapon made purely of Axiom Ride? That’s not normal, not something you stay quiet about and really damn weird. Someone, somewhere would have brought this weapon up, okay? A pure Axiom Ride weapon is the sort of thing you give a name to. Leaving it unmarked is... absurd. It’s like... I’m trying to think of something close... It’s like running for the highest office of a government with a clearly fake name and a mask on and winning. Okay? This is really, really fucking weird. And dangerous too.” Xona explains before pointing to the weapon again. “That thing should be famous. But it’s not even a whisper on the wind.”

“Well, what would be needed to work Axiom Ride to that level?”

“Trytite tools is the start of it. Axiom Ride is a powerful enhancer of Axiom. Very powerful and very reliable. But if the Axiom isn’t being engaged with, like with trytite hand tools, then it doesn’t go off. Basically to work Axiom Ride, you need trytite equipment. Presses and such. Where it’s mass produced you can always count on the serial number or artist’s mark being carved out of the Axiom Ride rather than raised or embossed. All to save a few little bits.”

“Don’t forget the sheer budget range on Centris. We have everything from girls who only own the rags they wear to women so wealthy that hand sewn designer dresses are worn only once then tossed away on the daily. And that’s if they’re being thrifty. Compared to that, is an Axiom Ride Pistol all that exceptional?”

“It still is yes. I know for most girls Axiom Ride is just the core of an engine or the really big money denomination. But there’s a reason it’s so damn expensive. This stuff is rare. It’s supply and demand. The supply is through the floor and the demand is through the roof so the price has an exit velocity.” Xona says as she reaches over and turns the gun over. “This is so damn weird. It’s like someone just... transformed... a...”

“Could a Transmutation Adept do this?”

“Yes. Yes but holy shit is creating the big materials in anything but a state of emergency illegal. A lot of Transmutation Adepts get a freaking government stipend to NOT do it that puts them easily in middle class and most of those places double down and let them ignore taxes too so long as they play ball.”

“Okay, so our Options are we either have an Axiom Ride Artisan making weapons on the sly and not putting their marking on it, or a rogue Transmutation Adept that’s blatantly breaking laws.”

“I can’t tell you which is worse, but I can tell you both of them will go down to an Axiom bullet to the brain.” Xona remarks.

“How about we think about how to do this diplomatically before we think about how to do this murdery?”

“But I’ve been working on my aim!”

“Back on topic. The short scans we had of the massive trenches this thing carved before they were filled in tells us that it’s powerful enough to operate in ship to ship combat. A person could in theory, stand in front of a fully armoured battleship and fire this weapon into the hull to burn a hole into it. In fact Mei’Lan’s extremely fast thinking and reflexes are the only reason the unguarded officer that was nearby the weapon when it was discharged, twice, is alive. At the temperatures this weapon can reliably put out, standard starship ablative armour is effectively a gas and not a solid state material.”

“Yeah, which leads to a question I have.” Libra states.

“And that would be?”

“Why wasn’t a massive explosion when the plasma blasts vaporized that much earth and stone?” Libra asks and there is dead silence. “You fire a plasma blast into water and you get a steam explosion, most battle explosions on a starship is because substances with lower temperatures get hit with plasma level heat and go bang in an atmosphere, which is usually followed by the explosion and everyone it killed, knocked silly or hurt getting dragged out the newly made hole and into the vacuum. But the point stands. That was a pair of plasma blasts on the same level. Why wasn’t there an explosion?”

“The Expanded Space. Part of the refilling effort was taking down that totem to have the actual structure fill in more room. But basically the explosion was trying to enter a hole the size of a pin head and while there was some backblast it was hardly noticeable with the atmospheric controls and the sheer size differences.”

“Which of course brings us to the next mess. That totem we recovered. It is a very, VERY powerful expanded space totem. That entire structure could have fit on this table with that totem in effect. This gives us TWO very expensive chunks of technology in the high end cloning equipment and this fucking pistol. And TWO very powerful Axiom artifacts! And like with the gun and gear, one is stupid rare and dangerous, the other more common but very high grade. What the actual hell was going on that it was under the control of a druggie who burnt out before leaving basic schooling!?”

“Not to mention how did she find it? Open and close an out of order door that leads to a dead end hallway multiple times?”

“That’s the easy part. Drug fuelled haze, slamming a door can be fun. Then it suddenly changes and they go in to take a look. Maybe find a place to lie down and recover. That’s not the hard part. The hard part is where did this mess all come from? Was it all there to begin with? Did she find more and more of it? Was it even Erin Fibrerise that did all this? Was she dead by mirror before any of these crimes could be committed?”

“And then there’s the question of the legal status of a mirror clone. I managed to get more information on these things and they’re rare enough to be a legal mess generally all over. The Mirror Clones are classified as actual clones in some jurisdictions, others say they’re false people, Axiom projections based off of a murder victim and before anyone asks, Phon Spire has no laws regarding Mirror Clones. They’re an unknown entity there.”

“And there’s also the fact that Barnabas killed the mirror clone below the spire. Does spire law extend underground?”

“It extends upwards by the equivalent of two more levels from the top of a spire. So most judges would likely argue it extends two levels down as well. If only for the sake of expedience and clarity.” Micah offers.

Bernice opens her mouth to say something before her communicator chimes and she checks it and nods. “From the looks of it our soon to be Observation Adept has recommended we get a Gravia Professional to examine the mirror. Apparently he recognized part of the Axiom Pattern within it. It matches Gravia patterns.

“Shit, that brings up another question. Is the Mirror alive somehow?”

“It can’t be. It has... now way to...” Fern protests before pausing and thinking. “... If it is then it is likely insane and completely hostile. If the mirror is alive then it has been in isolation for long enough for it’s mind to unravel. And that’s even assuming it has the kind of mind that can unravel, or be recognized as something that we can recognize as a mind.”

She then waves her hands. “But putting all that aside, if the Mirror does somehow qualify as alive in it’s own right then it’s only method of communication has been murder attempts, and some of them weren’t attempts.”

“... Well, I think we can rule out the mirror trying to communicate through murder. The mirror clones didn’t say a word and just fought. So even if the mirror does qualify as alive, it’s likely only alive in the sense that a microbe or plant might be. And it’s all hinging on a very big IF.”

First Last

When the aliens finally arrived, it was bizarre to say the least. We didn’t have a classical first-contact scenario, if you can even call it that, instead, one day countless of their ships arrived above every major metropolis and settlement, unmoving and silent like a guillotine ready to chop our heads off. They were massive and funnily enough a bit recognizable, as if we had designed them at some point. Nothing major happened after that and for the next few hours the human species had millions of videos floating around on the internet and every single platform you could think of was filled with the same discussion.

What do they want? Who are they? What do they look like? Are we in danger? Are they like us?
It made your head spin if you really thought about it. Aliens, right here on our little planet, it was insane.

On TV and on the radio, news was playing non-stop about how every major political figure was preparing to meet our new ‘guests’. No communication signals could be heard or received from the ships or their inhabitants and for hours none of our methods seemed to evoke any reactions. It was getting pretty uncomfortable to say the least. I don’t think we ever had a day in our lives where almost every activity on the planet stopped because we were all fixed on one singular thing.

After a day or so, finally something happened. Radio stations and news outlets reported the same thing, every single ship in orbit around the globe opened up with a loud hum and vibrations you could feel in your bones carrying what looked like to be a bipedal alien on a flat platform. Once descended it became apparent how much different they look to us. They were tall, at least two meters, covered in sleek, iridescent metal that seemed to fold like clothes would do. You couldn’t get a good look at their face because they were all covered in opaque visors and their muscular stature was awe-inspiring. They had fewer fingers and huge feet, covered by the same metal as their suit.

They were quickly surrounded by the press and political leaders, trying to offer a warm welcome, gifts and establish a proper first contact. Anything to get them to react positively to us I suppose.

The aliens remained eerily silent at first, they didn’t even react to any of the world leaders, every single channel had similar footage. Everywhere on Earth the aliens just stood there and listened to political heads and scientists without reacting. And after the sounds of the crowds surrounding them died down, they answered in perfect human language corresponding to the region they were in.

“No. We do not speak with you.”

The politicians were surprised, the scientists shocked, and the people around them confused. This confusion quickly dissipated when the aliens began pointing to random men and women asking them questions instead.

“What is your name?” “What do you do?” “Are you happy?” “Is there anything you hate?” “How is your life on Earth?” “Do you hate your job?” “Do you have any personal problems?” “What are your dreams?” “Are you scared?” “What do you plan on doing today?”

The questions seemed absurd at first. They randomly stopped citizens at their leisure, interrogating them with these mundane questions, their translator perfectly capable of understanding and speaking to humans everywhere. One news outlet filmed a very shaken woman in her forties while she answered questions.

“M-me? I’m just an a-a-accountant…No I mean…yeah the job is okay…no if I were being honest I’d rather do something else but I have bills to pay….yes I have children…no I don’t feel comfortable answering those questions.”

Another channel showed an old farmer with dirty overalls, chewing tobacco and raging about politicians and banks, another channel showed an alien surrounded by a force field, talking with prison inmates while dumbfounded guards couldn’t stop them.

Everywhere on the planet they asked questions and listened, never speaking about themselves, always focusing on seemingly random individuals, ranging from poor beggars, wealthy businessmen, junkies, construction workers, farmers, prostitutes, office workers, students, the list was endless.

The country heads, scientists, paparazzi and lots of people with phones kept following them everywhere, unless actively stopped by military personnel. The aliens themselves traveled freely wherever they pleased, those who tried to stop them were just simply pushed away by their force fields, they were above our technological understanding.

After a week they returned to the platforms underneath their large ships and addressed our leaders for the very first time.

“We are leaving. Hear us and listen. Were it not for the average inhabitant of this planet, we would have judged your world harshly. It is thanks to their nature and spirit that we shall abdicate and extend forgiveness. We see your potential and inherent capacity for greatness. Do not squander it. Do not repeat the same mistakes again. This is not a warning. It is an observation. We will return again when the time is right and hope to see you rise above your limitations.”

And they left just like that, leaving us forever marked by their presence and their trust in humanity.

A Cylindrical Planet

I woke slowly, groggily, with a mouth filled with sand.

I was lying face down, my limbs numb and uselessly resting by my side. My face was covered in a stringy weblike mask of some kind of thick crusty substance that plugged each of my facial orifices. Everything ached as if I was hungover. 

Despite the miserableness of my half-conscious state, I knew that I was on a beach. Slowly, feeling returned to my limbs, and I was able to gradually rise into a standing position. This was unexpectedly tricky and took several attempts as I struggled to find my balance – I assumed it was my hangover.

Feeling about myself, I realised that I was naked with the exception of a pair of unfamiliar boxer shorts. I then turned my attention to my face, liberating it of my mucosal mask.

Blinking away much of the rheum from my eyes, I looked around – the world was too bright for my newly awakened vision. Cupping my hand over my eyes, I was able to clarify my surroundings. Before me was a sea, and behind me was a forest populated by red-leafed flora. Either side of myself, however, I was shocked to see that there was no horizon. 

Whereas the surface of Earth curves downwards, the opposite was true here. East and West curved upwards, higher and higher until they met many kilometres above my head – the entire world appeared to span the interior surface of an enormous cylinder! 

The sun that lit the world was not some distant fiery ball in the sky – instead, it appeared as a beam of light that ran through the axis of the world-cylinder (and like the Sun of my home-world, it hurt to look at for too long). 

“Nope.” I said to the impossible world, before turning and stumbling into the water before me, wading into the sea as if I could somehow swim back to home planet. “Nope. Nope. Nope.”  I said again and again. I stopped when the water reached my waist, at which point I took to flailing my arms about my head with the hope that some passing boat, or overhead plane – somebody– would come to my rescue.

Making Sense of My Surroundings

After realising the pointlessness of calling for help, I returned to the beach. It occurred to me that as I could see the other side of the world from my current position – then I could search for cities, or towns, or evidence of civilisation so as to confirm that I was not the sole intelligent creature in this world. 

For a long while I strained my eyes to scour the land-sky  (despite the harshness of the Axial Sun) for evidence of civilisation. I eventually was able to see some small things that looked like cities dotted along one of the major rivers of the opposing region of the world. Small objects flew between them – I imagined them to be planes.

Although my balance had returned to me, my gait felt improper – lighter, as if gravity was less than I was accustomed to. I knew that astronauts on my home planet’s moon could jump far higher on the Lunar surface than on Earth. If the gravity of this world was less than on Earth, then it would follow that I could jump higher here than I could on Earth like the Lunar astronauts.

I crouched, and propelled myself upwards and came to reach a height equal to the treetops of the forest lining the beach. 

At the height of my jump, I saw a plume of smoke rising up through the forest canopy. To confirm that this was not some kind of mirage or trick of the hopeless mind, I jumped again and confirmed that it was indeed there.

Given the narrow shape of the smoke, it was obviously not a forestfire, and likely originated from a campsite. For a moment, I inwardly debated whether or not to make contact – of course, the prospect of whether or not the aliens that inhabited this world were friendly or dangerous made me hesitant. Ultimately, I decided that the campsite was my best bet at working out what had happened to me, and where I was. 

The Red Forest

Traversing the forest was quite easy, as I could cover a large distance simply by leaping – vaulting myself high into the crimson canopy of the forest, and landing on the soft red grass below. 

Eventually  the light of the Axial Sun began to change, and the midday brightness dimmed into the faint orange warmth of early evening. With daylight fading I set about collecting branches and sticks to create my own campfire to settle down for my first night in this strange world. 

After creating my fire, I selected a large, knotted stick to be my weapon in case that I was attacked by some hostile entity. 

As I made myself comfortable on a bed of crimson moss and leaves, I wondered about the physics of this world – whether its tunnel-like structure was infinite was a particular concern for me (for some reason).

As I sat there, staring up at land where there should have been stars, I felt my initial excitement pass, and dread to set in as I was faced with the horrid realness of my predicament. To prevent myself from going mad with panic, I tried to soothe my nerves by compiling all that I knew about myself.

Starting with the obvious, I confirmed that I was well muscled, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, my limbs were long for my torso, and I seemed to remember being called “tall” in my past life, but of course, I lacked any reference to judge my height relatively. My hair was black and was a mop of messy curls, and a thick, moustachioed beard decorated my lower face.

My mind was devoid of any past details of myself. I had no memories of a family, occupation, or even nationality – my name – Ulysses Carter – surfaced eventually, and to this day I am unsure whether or not that was my actual name or some stitching-together of two disconnected names from my past. 

I knew facts about Earth – its history, geography, and politics. I knew of its countries, the three that came to mind most easily were the UK, USA, and USSR. The fact that these three came to me so easily suggested to myself that I belonged to one of them, and given my name, I seemed to belong to one of the first two.

Some other trait of my person then revealed itself to me — I had died in my past life.

Mr. Radessg

The golden light of morning woke me – I must have either passed out from  exhaustion sometime after realising my undead nature. 

I dismantled my campfire – because it is environmentally  responsible, but also because I did not want to be tracked – and leapt above the trees again, searching for the camper’s signature plume of smoke.

For the rest of the morning, I continued my pursuit and by the time that the Axial Sun was at its brightest, I found myself near the campsite. Armed with my weaponised branch, I braced myself and emerged from the bushes to meet the camper. 

Seated next to a small fire was an enormous humanoid thing, scribbling away in a journal. It had thick wooly fur like a muskox, and a pair of large bull horns that jutted out from either side of his head. He wore nothing besides leather braces upon his wrists, and a pair of loose fitting trousers that were held up by a belt adorned with a series of heavy looking pouches.

“Hello–” I began. 

The man-thing yelled in shock, and reached for some long brass-coloured object resting by his side – something that I immediately registered as some kind of firearm! I immediately braced myself to flee, but the creature quickly dropped it, sending it clattering to the ground.

“By the gods!” he said, “An Earthman!”

I nodded slowly, surprised that I understood the alien. The beastman fumbled about his belt’s pouches for a moment, and then extracted a pair of comically small spectacles that he then rested upon his broad nose. “By the gods,” he said again. 

He then sprang up from his seat and enthusiastically thrust his hand out towards me to shake. “Yunn Radessg!” he said.

“Ulysses Carter.” I said much too calmly for the situation.

I heard somewhere that in computer systems, sometimes, when a number becomes too high to be processable, it flips over and becomes the smallest possible  value — numeric overflow or something like that. I imagine this to have happened with my shock, the insanity of the past day with cylinder worlds, columns of sun, and now this beastman had finally reached “tipping-point” so to speak. 

“Please, join me!” Mr. Radessg said. I did.

Only Humans Reincarnate

Mr. Radessg was a scholar from a nearby kingdom called Anlarn. He told me that he had been sent by a So (a noble rank that roughly equates to a duke) to collect a type of herb that grows in this part of the forest. I was lucky to have reached him, because after completing his notes, he would have packed up and left for home. 

“You must come with me.” he insisted, “It is exceptionally rare for an Earthman to appear in Kuru,” he paused for a moment then clarified “Kuru is the world that we are in, by the bye.”

I nodded, “Yes… How did that happen?”

“Your arrival?” he asked, then chuckled, “Don’t ask me the physics behind it – that only the gods know. But we understand your kind to be quite unique.”

I nodded slowly, “How so?”

“Well, they are the only ones who can cross the sea!”  

I said nothing for a while, “So there are these wonderful things called boats.”

He laughed, “Well, to the best of our understanding: you have Unbound Souls, which means that upon death, your kind – that is Humans from Earth – can appear anywhere else in reality, regardless of whether or not you were born there. This compares to people like me, and all of those who live in Kuru, who have Bound Souls, meaning that we are all linked, tied in with Kuru’s world spirit, and can only reincarnate within this world.”

I nodded again, “Well I have the vague memory that I died. I can’t remember anything with great specificity, however – it's all foggy.”

“That follows. Nobody here remembers details of their past life – its impressive you remember anything.”

I nodded slowly. “I see.” I didn’t. “You said ‘another’ Earthman… are there any more Humans like me?”

“No. None known to be alive – there are people who generally look like you, but no Earthmen. The last Earthman to wash up on that beach came to us centuries ago.”

I felt something grip my stomach, “What happened to him?”

“He died. Moved on, his soul travelled somewhere else in reality.” he looked upwards wistfully.

“Is that what happens when I’ll die?!”

“Maybe. If your soul gets bored, or completes its purpose, then yes. Otherwise, you would just wake up on that beach where you found yourself this time yesterday.”

I am– humans are – immortal. 

The room was small, circular, and gave off a stuffy heat that no ventilation system seemed to clear away. The limestone walls were bare, without the bluish decorative veins that adorned the rest of the administrative building. It was a practical room, hidden behind the scenes of power, designed for situations that needed quiet and watchfulness. In the center, a wide table held a series of translucent screens glowing with the amber light typical of Muken technology. Grainy images of the main audience room filled the monitors. In one of them, Ruben was leaning against the stone wall, his arms crossed, his mouth moving in words that the Magistrate's translation device picked up even from a distance. In another, Camila walked slowly around the edge of the room, her gray eyes scanning every architectural detail with the precision of someone mapping escape routes.

Magistrate Coukisa stood still in front of the screens, his four back legs planted on the floor like the roots of an ancient tree. His two pairs of eyes did not blink. He was watching, but he was also thinking. The translation device on his neck still pulsed softly, translating in real time the words the humans exchanged. He had heard everything. The confession that they were omnivores. The casual, almost careless confirmation that they ate meat and plants. The way the male smiled when he said it, as if it were the most natural thing in the universe.

Beside him, Chief Guard Yulthar paced back and forth, his hooves making a tense, rhythmic sound against the stone floor. The scar crossing one of his four eyes looked deeper under the amber light, a pale line that pulsed with his fast breathing. His front arms were crossed over his chest, a posture that among Mukens showed forced restraint, as if he were holding himself back from taking action.

"Magistrate," Yulthar said, his voice a muffled growl, "if they really are what they are, we must arrest them right away. Now. Before they realize we know."

Coukisa did not take his eyes off the screens. "Arrest them? Based on what? On a word translated by a device they have never seen before? On a conversation that barely started?"

"Based on what you yourself reported," Yulthar pushed. "They said they eat meat. Meat, Magistrate. They are omnivores. There are no peaceful omnivores. The Federation taught us that from the first day of contact. Omnivores are a biological abomination, an ethical impossibility. And the Borkus... the Borkus are omnivores."

The name hung in the air like a shadow. Borkus. The word the Mukens had learned to fear long before they had any practical reason to. A word that showed up in Keplorian Federation reports with alarming frequency, always paired with descriptions of ruined worlds, destabilized civilizations, silent invasions.

Coukisa finally turned around. His four eyes met Yulthar's. "That could make the situation worse. Scaring them now, arresting them by force, could trigger exactly what we are trying to avoid. And the Federation is already on the way. They will know what to do. They have the protocols. Protocols that, I must remind you, they never fully shared with us. But they know how to handle this."

"The Federation is on the way?" Yulthar asked, his posture relaxing slightly for the first time.

"Yes. A patrol frigate should be approaching right now. They will come. They always come when something like this happens."

Yulthar swayed his torso, a gesture of frustration. "And if they really are the Borkus, that is exactly why we should not leave them running loose, Magistrate. The Federation taught us what the Borkus do. They do not attack with armies at first. They sneak in. They gain trust. They learn our weaknesses. And then, when we are vulnerable, they attack. They are masters at destroying worlds. They can do it in many ways. Biological wars. Ecological sabotage. Cultural collapse. Every world they found was ruined in a different way, but they all fell."

He paused, his four eyes shining with a feverish intensity. "You yourself said they claimed to come from a distant world. That this is their first trip outside their solar system. If they are not the Borkus, why did they lie to us then?"

Coukisa stayed silent. The question was a good one. He turned back to the screens, watching the humans. The male, Ruben, was now sitting on the stone floor, legs crossed, gesturing while he talked to the female. He seemed... relaxed. Confident. Nothing in his posture suggested he was hiding something. But the Borkus, the Federation had said, were masters of lying.

"I do not know why they would lie," the Magistrate admitted, his voice lower now. "But if they are the Borkus... those omnivores that have been ruining the Federation for decades... then they are testing us. Judging our defense. Testing our reaction. The Federation described the Borkus to us as treacherous monsters. They say they have many forms, that they adapt, that they camouflage themselves. And one of those forms is bipedal. Bipedal."

He closed his four eyes for a moment, a gesture of blaming himself. "I should have noticed. The moment I saw them coming out of the ship, on two legs, with front-facing eyes... I should have realized they might be them."

Yulthar took a step forward, his voice softening into something that passed for compassion among the Mukens. "The Magistrate is not to blame. There is no blame in being fooled by these things. The Borkus evolved to trick. It is what they do. You acted with courage and hospitality, as is our custom. The flaw is not in you, but in their nature."

Coukisa raised one of his front arms, cutting him off. "But what if it is just a coincidence, Yulthar? What if... what if they are exactly what they say they are?"

The Chief Guard stopped. His four eyes narrowed. "What coincidence, Magistrate?"

"Think about it," Coukisa said, and his voice took on a different tone, a tone Yulthar recognized from long trial sessions, when the Magistrate weighed every argument with an almost painful precision. "There is a possibility they are not the Borkus. That they are simply another omnivorous species. A species we have never met before. A species that, as they said, is making its first interstellar trip. Everything they told us could be true."

Yulthar stayed silent for a long moment. His scar pulsed with his breathing. Then he swayed his torso slowly, a heavy gesture of denial. "The possibility is very slim, Magistrate. Extremely slim. To this day, from what we know, there is no other omnivorous race in the known galaxy. The Federation has cataloged hundreds of intelligent species. Hundreds. In all quadrants, in all spiral arms. Herbivores and carnivores coexist in the Federation. They have their differences, their occasional conflicts, but they have lived in harmony for centuries. But omnivores? The Federation has only found one omnivorous species. Just one. The Borkus."

He paused, and his voice got even deeper. "The Federation taught us that being an omnivore is not just a diet. It is a psychology. A way of seeing the world. Omnivorous species do not specialize. They consume everything. Resources. Territories. Other species. It is a widespread predatory behavior that is not limited to food. The Borkus do not just eat other beings. They consume entire worlds. That is what the Federation taught us."

Coukisa sighed. The sound escaped his smelling slits like a sad wind. He walked slowly across the room, his hooves making a hollow sound against the stone. The screens kept showing the humans in their quiet wait.

"I never thought," he mumbled, "that I would be more afraid of omnivores than carnivores."

Yulthar tilted his head, confused. "Magistrate?"

"The carnivores of the Federation," Coukisa explained. "The Keltar, the Dromani. They eat meat. They kill to eat. But they are specialized. Their aggression has a target. They do not consume everything. They have rules, limits, and codes of conduct. We herbivores learned to live with them. It was not easy, but it was possible. Herbivores and carnivores have lived in harmony for centuries, as you said yourself."

He stopped in front of one of the screens, his four eyes locked on the image of Ruben. The human was laughing at something Camila had said. The translator had picked up the word "hurt."

"But an omnivore," Coukisa continued, "is different. An omnivore has no specialty. It has no built-in limits. It eats everything. It adapts to everything. It survives everything. That is what makes it so dangerous. It is not strength. It is not ferocity. It is adaptability. It is the ability to consume anything and thrive."

He turned to Yulthar. "But it is exactly that adaptability that makes me doubt. The humans in that room are not acting like monsters. They are acting like people. Scared people, far from home, trying to do their best in an impossible situation. The male, Ruben... he put the translation device on without hesitating. He reached his hand out to me. He smiled. And the female, Camila... she is cautious, yes. Suspicious. But not hostile. If they were Borkus, if they were treacherous monsters, they might not be acting like this."

Yulthar took a step forward. "With all due respect, Magistrate, that is exactly how the Borkus would act. They would earn our trust. They would do exactly what those two are doing."

Coukisa fell silent. Yulthar's argument was logical. But there was something inside him, something that was not logical, that pushed back against the conclusion. An intuition. An instinct. His four eyes turned back to the screens.

"Maybe I made a mistake," he finally said.

"Magistrate?"

"Calling the Federation. Triggering the emergency protocols. Maybe it was rushed. If they really are what they say they are... if they are just explorers, travelers from a distant world on their first mission... then calling the Federation might be the biggest mistake of my career. The Keplorian Federation is not known for its gentleness in first contact situations. If they arrive and see two bipedal omnivores, they are not going to ask many questions."

He paused, and his voice became lower, more determined. "And if they are the Borkus, like you believe, there are only two of them, Yulthar. Just two. It is not an invasion fleet. It is not an army. They are two beings, alone, in a small ship. Even if they are Borkus, we can contain them. We can handle this without the Federation. It is better to cancel the call for help."

Yulthar stood perfectly still. His scar looked darker under the amber light. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with something Coukisa rarely heard: true regret.

"That will not be possible, Magistrate."

Coukisa spun around. "What do you mean?"

"While you were talking to me, I checked the long-range communications. The ship is sending greetings, they are close."

He paused, his four eyes meeting the Magistrate's. "A patrol frigate from the Keplorian Federation is two hours away, Magistrate. They are coming. And when they get here, they will want answers. They will want that things."

Previous chapter

The cab driver sat on a bench outside the busy train station, idly puffing on his pipe while he ruminated. This was either going to be a fantastic day or a terrible one, no chance of anything in between but it’d been out of his control. When a giant, magical lady presses a large amount of money into your hands and tells you to wait here while she borrows your vehicle, you thanked her and got the bleeding hell out of her way.

His mam hadn’t raised an idiot after all.

He was hoping for a positive outcome, but she’d been gone a while now and the sun was starting to dip. He wondered if she knew how to drive a combustion engine car given she was probably used to operating something that was mana powered. Magic cars, insofar as he understood anything magic, partially operated on the principle of a mage using their intent to shape how reality worked to drive the vehicle. They believed the car should move, so the engine turned and the car moved because reality was more of a series of suggestions than laws to a mage.

He really hoped his cab wasn’t plowed into a ditch somewhere because the mage had thought about slowing down instead of actually pressing the brakes.

Fortunately his faith was rewarded as a taxi came to a stop at the front of the cab rank, parked at an awkward angle and cutting the lead vehicle off. There were angry shouts and jeering calls until the mage he’d met earlier stepped out, followed by another one in full armour.

Everyone else went back to minding their own business at that point.

The mages hauled several bags out of the vehicle, thanked him, then headed into the station. A quick inspection showed nothing out of order, and the cab driver’s day returned to normal.

—------------

“Really, Blanche? ‘His Majesty the King thanks you for your contribution to the war effort’ was laying it on a bit thick.” Milly’s complaints were muffled coming from inside her helm.

“You’re right, I just wanted to drive a car and that was an easy way to get one.”

“And invoking royalty, couldn’t that get us in trouble?”

“Plausible deniability in case he complained to the crushers I’d stolen it.”

“Crushers?”

“I’ve changed my mind, you can keep the helmet off so I can hear you. I forgot how basic state sponsored gear is.”

“Gods, that’s a ripping relief.” Milly said gratefully, stowing the offending gear back in her bag. “What’re crushers?”

“The police, law enforcement, the good old implicit violence of the ruling class.”

“Oh you mean coppers.”

“Whatever the kids are calling them these days.”

“That’s what my parents call them!”

“Sponge, I’m old enough to be your great grandmother. I’m closing in on my first century, you’re all kids to me.”

Milly just threw her hands up in surrender and turned to study a map of the railway line.

“You said we’re headed to Stotham, right?”

“Yes, once we reach Stotham we’ll join one of the convoys headed to a fort bordering the Weald. We’ll use that as a base to hunt in the forest.”

“Canning is on this route, my family lives there.” Milly said, pointing at a stop on the route. “Is there any chance we can visit them on the way? I sent a letter but if there’s any chance I can see them before the fighting starts, please? It’d mean a lot to them.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve got enough of a lead we can spare a few days with your folks.” Blanche waved Milly’s concerns away. “I’m not that much of a hardarse I’d say no to seeing your mum and dad. We were going to do a few days of training at the fort before heading into the Weald anyway, we can do that at your family’s home instead.”

Blanche led the way through the station. Despite it being crowded by pedestrians coming and going they didn’t need to force their way through as the commuters naturally gave way to the pair of mages. The interior was loud, steam whistles echoing off the enclosed train shed with the last rays of daylight streaming through the glass roof. Blanche led them towards the train at the last platform.

“Blanche! Don’t we need tickets?” Milly shouted above the noise.

“If we were riding as normal passengers, yes.” Blanche said, motioning to the first class sitting cars near the end of the carriage rake. “But we’re going to take advantage of some unwritten rules. Routes that run near dangerous locations such as the Weald or the Shallow Sea will normally include paid guards. Foreign mages that travel will often exchange their services to protect these.”

They passed the first class cars, and the mail car behind it. Stopping in front of the guard van at the end of the rake.

“This line isn’t one that normally needs extra guards, we’ll be changing lines to actually head towards the Weald itself, but it’s an informal rule in most places that we ride for free if we offer protection. Nobody says no to free mage security.”

“What if we rob the train though? Seems a bit rash to invite someone covered in weapons you don’t know aboard.”

“Look, common sense. Nobody is going to let a Drowner on board, but if one of those slaving pirates was actually wandering around on land the nearest authority would be contacting someone like me to come stick their head on a pike. We could rob this train, but why would we? Petty crime is the purview of the desperate, which we are not. We’re mages, I’m old and wealthy and you will be too with time.”

The guard van was a standard model with a small covered platform at the front where the handbrake was located. The rear behind the guard’s compartment stretched out into an open platform. Blanche stepped up to the door and knocked on it. A guard opened it and looked the pair up and down.

“Coming aboard, ma’am?”

“Yes, making our way to Stotham.”

“Excellent. I’m John, my partner’s inside. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just let the driver know we have security travelling with us.” John stepped out and headed down the platform to the front of the train. The pair of mages ducked through the doorway into the carriage, inside was another guard heating a kettle on a small stove. He waved a greeting, speaking with the thick accent of northern Orlens.

“‘Name’s Arthur. Ah’ll be wi’ ye on the overnight leg.”

Blanche nodded and introduced them then took Milly out the rear door to the open part of the carriage.

“What’s this platform used for?” Milly asked

“Transporting golems any of the mages aboard are traveling with, sometimes heavy guns if there’s no mage protection attached and the train is traveling near wyvern territory. Big scaly buggers will try dive a train from behind so it’s the best place for a mage or a gunner to knock them down from. But we’re getting distracted from what I wanted to show you though.”

Blanche pointed to several metal lugs around the edge of the platform.

“Safety check. We’re going to be traveling at speed. Sponge, what do you never do on a high speed vehicle?”

Milly thought for a bit, she’d rarely been allowed off academy grounds over the last decade so much of this was unfamiliar. Blanche created a large barrier covering one side of the carriage, it was clearly a hint. Milly focused and dove into her mage sight, her eyes flashed and the world faded into black. Kineograph images of Blanche’s aura, blazing in power, came to her. Next to Blanche she could perceive the barrier, it was only draining a small portion of Blanche’s power to stay active and was heavily obscured by Blanche’s overwhelming arcane presence this close in proximity. Nevertheless Milly could still recognise that its spatial orientation was anchored to something below it.

“Ohhh, I think I remember being told not to anchor large barriers to myself?”

“That’s right, make a big barrier when the train is moving fast and it’ll be like a big sail and rip you right off the train.” Blanche winked at Milly. “One kid I taught was a twat so I let him remember that lesson the hard way. Took him two hours to get to the next station on foot”

“That sounds mildly dangerous.” Milly reproached, but she couldn’t help chuckling all the same.

“Pffff, I made sure he put his armour on first, it was fine.” Blanche waved the concern away. “Anyway, that’s what these big metal things are for. They’re part of the carriage frame so if you need to cover our position they’re safe to anchor the barriers to. Won’t need to for this trip, but keep it in mind for later.”

“Already had enough cardio for today so I definitely won’t be making that mistake.”

“Hah true enough! Come on, let’s get settled in. You can have a break for now but we’ll do some more drills once we clear the city.”

They moved back into the van compartment. Arthur was still the only occupant and was busy heating a kettle over a small coal stove.

“Tea?” He offered.

Blanche declined but Milly took a cup.

“Thanks.” She said, sniffing it. “Dwarvish?”

Arthur snorted. “O’ course, Songze tea is watery grass clippin’s.”

“Good man!” Blanche said and tossed Milly a small tin of biscuits. Popping it open, she shared the shortbread with Arthur.

“I have to say, this is nice.” Milly said taking a sip

“Ye’re welcome, mah wife picked it.”

“I meant you.”

“Sorry lass, Ah jist said Ah’m taken. Wee bairns an’ all.”

“No! I meant you treating us normally. Everyone else has been avoiding us.”

“Oh, dinnae take that personal. That’s jist common sense. Noble families run thick wi’ magic an’ mages. Approaching one o’ ye casual like is riskin’ trouble normal folk dinnae want.”

“You’re not worried about that trouble then?”

“Nae Ah give fancy nobles their proper berth, but their sort would never be caught deid in the guard van wi’ me. We only get the reasonable kind o’ mage like yerself back ‘ere.” Arthur smiled and sipped his tea. “Southerners have rubbed aff on you a bit but Ah can still hear the northie in yer accent. Bet your mam an’ da are common stock from the north like me.”

“Half right, my mam is. The family lives in Canning and we’re on the way to visit them. You?”

“Godmouth. Originally, anyway. Moved the family sooth away from the coast when Ah could. Close call one raiding season an’ that was enough o’ a warnin’ tae get the hells oot o’ there.”

There was a shrill steam whistle blast. Arthur finished his tea and stood up.

“Ah’d best make mahself useful an’ help John secure aw the doors. Back in a jiffy.”

The last passengers were swiftly loaded and final departure preparations made, the guards signaled the all clear and reentered the last van in the rake. The train puffed as it headed out of the station and picked up speed. Out the window, the busy centre of Penter gave way to an industrial scene which gradually morphed into the residences of the working class and then the slums of the desperate and hopeful on the outskirts of the city. As the slums thinned out into countryside Blanche motioned for Milly to join her outside again. The sun was almost completely below the horizon at this point.

“Alright back to it, let’s make the most of what time we’ve got. Offensive magic, what did you study?” Blanche raised her voice to be heard over the wind whipping past them.

“Major in offensive and general telekinetics, minor in pyrokinetics. I haven’t focused on learning elemental magecraft much, I was waiting until I graduated to incorporate electrokinetics because it’s restricted to study without direct supervision from a preceptor.”

“For good reason, hard to control and a lot of potential for collateral damage when you’re unskilled in it. I’ll give you the quick and dirty version when we reach the Weald and don’t have to worry about you zapping something you shouldn’t. You will absolutely need to master the basics of defending against it before you hit the battlefield.” Blanche faced the direction they’d come from. Milly felt the temperature drop as Blanche formed a large ball of ice in her hand.

“Pyrokinetics are simple enough that even the worst mage understands them on a conceptual level, so I’ll trust you can adequately light things on fire. Telekinetic mastery on the other hand makes the difference between a good duelist and a master. I’m going to throw these and I want to see you hit them with a force bolt.”

“Getting a bit dark now for target practice isn’t it?”

The ice began to glow.

“Behold true mastery of the arcane.” Blanche said dryly then tossed the chunk of ice into the air.

Milly pointed a hand at the arcing object and a swift pair of cracks followed. The ball of ice shattered mid air, struck by an invisible force.

“Nice shot but try that again without the somatic reinforcement.” Blanche said, forming another ball and tossing it.

Milly squinted at the flying target, but kept her arm down this time. This time the crack of the bolt took longer to sound and it missed the target.

“Again.” Blanche ordered, throwing a third ball.

Another crack, another miss.

“Again.”

Crack. Miss.

“Again.”

This time the ice shattered.

“Bleeding hells, it’s a lot harder to aim like that when we’re moving this fast.”

“It absolutely is, but the skill is important to develop. Mastering telekinetics will give you a third limb in a fight. You need to be able to strike, block, and cast all at the same moment. From now on no more somatic reinforcement. Talbot said you’re talented, but your performance was measured against your peers.”

Blanche tossed three targets into the air and shattered them simultaneously. “We can’t have you found wanting when you fight some old battleaxe like me.”

“Point taken.” Milly grimaced. “Ok, hit me with another.”

Blanche continued to toss the icy targets into the air. Milly doggedly kept at the practice, still missing more often than not. Blanche eventually called an end to the drill when it was clear her protege was beginning to suffer from overtaxing her mind, her reactions had grown sluggish and the pain of a growing headache was apparent.

They rejoined John and Arthur inside. Blanche produced more ice, wrapped it in a sailor’s neckerchief and handed it to Milly who groaned a thanks, pressing it to her forehead. John was fiddling with a pipe and tobacco. There was a click as he snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hand. He lit his pipe as Milly straightened with interest.

“You’re a mage?”

“Flicker.” Blanche corrected.

“Bleedin’ showaff is whit he is. Dinnae think Ah dinnae ken why ye took so long tae light that. Mister Magic Fingers has been waitin’ all night tae impress the lassies.” Arthur heckled.

John rolled his eyes. “Look it’s an icebreaker, I don’t get to talk shop often with people who have actual schooling. So you know, a little demonstration and then I read the room. If you talk, we talk. If you don’t, then I don’t bother you.”

“I can’t see your aura.” Milly said, deep in her mage sight.

Milly looked at Blanche for confirmation, she nodded.

“That’s why they’re called flickers, auras barely show up as a flicker when you’re looking for them. He’s a late bloomer. Remember the constant conditioning you did through body enhancement for the first several years at the academy?”

“Yeah, pushing ourselves physically while deepening the connection to the veil. Deeper connection, draw more mana from the other side of the veil, which fuels a bigger aura to manifest stronger magic with.”

“Well that doesn’t work when you’re older, not quickly anyway. That’s why you were pushed until you dropped every single day. John, when did you first manifest a connection to the veil?”

“Seventeen.”

“The progress you made in your first year alone would probably take someone awakening that late their entire extended life time to accomplish. Any magic they cast is limited in power, they don’t have enough power to drive a golem, any formations inscribed for imbuements fade after ten-days rather than decades. Most nations don’t see them as a worthwhile resource to cultivate.”

Blanche gave John an apologetic look. “No offense.”

“None taken, all I do is a parlour trick.”

“Here, play with this.” Blanche handed John a gauntlet she’d fished out of her bag.

“You won’t be able to activate the barrier on it, you don’t have enough power. But you can still use what aura you’ve got to feel the formation.”

“Oh, I see. I feel like… I’m being told… No, I need to stop?”

“Not you specifically. That imbuement forms a barrier, they stop things.” Blanche motioned to Milly who powered the barrier on her clam gauntlet helpfully.

“Magic is the change you force on the world. That particular one is designed to stop things, it creates something that shouldn’t exist to stop things that do exist. That intent was burned into the imbuements as part of creating them, so you can feel it when you touch it with your aura. Just keep playing with that and just focus on the feeling you’re getting from it. Meditate on that for long enough and you might be able to replicate a weaker version of it eventually. Barriers are a branch of telekinetics, get your foot in the door and you’ll probably be able to muddle your way into telekinesis and other fun tricks on your own.”

“You learned this way as well?” John said, glancing at Milly.

Milly shrugged.

“Magic works because I believe it. I want it to work, I believe it works, so it changes what’s real to match what I believe.”

John snapped a small flame into existence again. “That’s what I’m doing, really?”

“Broad strokes, yeah, that’s more or less it. You’ve got a connection to some arcane juice and you’re crazy enough to believe you can make fire. You were probably staring into a fire or something similar when you first managed it, right?” Blanche said.

“Not quite, I was trying to light the stove and couldn’t get the damn match to strike properly. I was hungry, and I was steaming mad after I broke the last match. I started cursing the cheap things and then the next thing I knew the tinder in the stove caught fire.”

“Fire’s an easy one, everybody understands fire. You know what fire is and you know what you want it to do, burn something. That’s the other reason we try to get them as young and stupid as possible.” Blanche said, pointing at Milly. “The believing part comes easy for kids and becomes second nature.”

Blanche imitated John and snapped her fingers.

“This makes it easier, right?”

“Yes I don’t need to focus as hard and it feels natural to me.”

“You’re mimicking a lighter. That’s somatic reinforcement and it works even if you don’t understand what you’re doing. When you’re trying to make your first barrier try holding your hand out like you’re stopping something. You can also add verbal reinforcement, barriers aren’t exactly a subtle spell so being loud, firm, and shouting something like ‘block’ or ‘stop’ will probably help you.”

“Ok I’ll try that. I’ve never heard a mage ever cast something out loud though.”

“It’s considered a sign of poor ability in the craft and a weak mind. Getting stuck using verbal reinforcement for anything meant getting bullied relentlessly by classmates.” Milly shook her head then caught herself. “Uh, not that you should be bullied for doing it.”

“So whit even is this mana?” Arthur changed the subject, his own curiosity roused.

Blanche just shrugged.

“Buggered if I know. There’s more theories than you can poke a stick at, mostly driven by egos and delusions of grandeur. More than one religion believes it’s the manifestation of divine will, a last gift from the gods before they left us. Meanwhile the Thaumaturgic Circle Society believes there’s a dead monster on the other side of the Veil leaking through. Naturally the former schools of thought are not friendly with the latter. As for me, I don’t read enough books to worry about any of that. I kill things, and I teach kids how not to get killed by things they should be killing.”

“Ye’re a born scrappy lass then aye?”

“I was a scrappy runt of a kid, stayed scrappy but stopped being a runt!”

“Is this common?” Milly cut in pointing at John, gauntlet in hand and a constipated expression as he focused on the imbuements.

“No, Sponge, most of my students don’t look like they’re taking a shit when they learn magic.”

“Oh come off it, I mean flickers. I was under the impression late awakenings are rare, like with witches.”

“They’re the same thing just called different names depending who you ask and no, it’s not exactly common. Although, it’s not really rare either anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“The number of people manifesting a late connection to the Veil is increasing. Not rapidly, but it has been noticeable over time. I was a decade older than you before I met my first flicker. Now if I search in a busy public place I can usually see at least one when I’m using the sight. They’re still difficult to actually perceive because their aura is so damn faint, but I know how to focus for them now.”

“Huh, I wonder why that is.”

“The amount of mana passively leaking through the veil is slowly increasing, and it’s causing, and I quote, ‘cascading cumulative consequences.’”

“You’re awfully certain for a topic that doesn’t involve violence.” Milly said, suspicious.

“Talbot’s fault. He’s a rambly drinker with a passion for history and I like the man enough to drink with him on occasion even though he’ll talk your damn ear off. He’s from an old line of mages and learned from some great great great something or other ancient relative. Apparently back in their day deep water trade with other continents was common, no leviathans eating boats that stray from the coast.”

“Really?”

“Apparently they just didn’t exist if you can believe that. The forests around the Leyline mountains were a fraction of the size back then and weren't called the Weald either. Probably on account of not shitting out weird horrors to harass the local countryside on a regular basis.”

“Ah’m gonnae tell this story at the pub an’ nae bugger’s gonnae believe me.” Arthur complained.

The conversation wound down a short while later as John and Arthur left to check tickets. Milly stared out the window for a while. It was too dark to see anything but perfect for contemplation. The day had been a whirlwind of activity and Blanche had kept her busy, but now her mind was free to wander and Milly was starting to get a growing sense of unease.

“Blanche, I feel weird.”

“Shit, I don’t have a bucket. Lean out the window if you’re gonna be sick.”

“I’m not ill! I’m just concerned. It feels like there’s a lot of things I should know like all this business of traveling on the trains for free and flickers but don’t because I’ve spent almost my entire life inside the academy. I get that we’re kept on campus for protection but it still feels like I may have missed out on so much of… everything I guess?”

Blanche blew out a long sigh.

“Sharp enough to feel your gut but too naive to trust it. Look, it’s true you were significantly safer under constant guard, most nations wouldn’t think twice about giving the go ahead to…. you know.”

She punctuated the point by drawing a finger across her throat.

“Taking you out before you can become a national asset is dirty business but it’s what happens given the chance. But it’s also a convenient coincidence for the people in charge, probably why nobody hashes out a treaty to knock that shit off. We, and I do mean we as it happened to me too, grow up as a bunch of mushrooms by design.”

Milly gave her a quizzical look. Blanche sighed again.

“Alright you definitely wouldn’t have heard that one, that’s my fault. We’re kept in the dark and fed shit. Like a mushroom, get it? It’s deliberate. You never wondered why there’s not a single noble or second generation mage student at the ‘Royal’ academy?”

“I just assumed they were getting personal tutoring so they could make sure all their family secrets stay that way.”

“That’s another happy coincidence but anyone could learn family secrets in their own time. No, the kingdom really wants to have as many proper mages as possible because we’re valuable assets. That means training anyone they can, not just keeping it within their established bloodlines. But at the same time the people who run the nation, these families, really don’t want a bunch of extremely dangerous commoners becoming a threat to their control. They want soldiers, not peer competition. So we spend our childhood training to fight, growing stronger, learning how to wrangle as much magic as possible to be as useful as possible. We don’t learn about culture, politics, life skills or anything that’s useful in the real world.”

Milly’s mouth had gone into the small ‘oh’ of enlightenment, the dots were starting to connect for her.

“Is this why we were never taught fine aura control for crafting imbuements, or anything at all?”

“Exactly, that’s kept in the hands of the people who are in control. They want the academy to produce soldiers. They want you forever relying on them for your armour, weapons, or any arcane conveniences. It’s not illegal for you to do any of it yourself of course, you’re a mage very little is off limits. But it’s a very difficult area of study and needs extreme technical skill to produce good quality imbued equipment though. It’s very unlikely anyone who isn’t directly tutored in the skill will ever be significant competition.”

Milly was headed towards her second existential crisis for the day as Blanche continued.

“It used to be a lot, and I really do mean a lot, worse. The post graduation apprenticeships under preceptors were used to groom any especially talented individuals and either fold them directly into a family, often through marriage, or to leash them with golden chains.” Blanche’s voice dripped with distaste.

“Thank the useless fucking gods Talbot put a stop to that well before I had to go through it. He’s got some odd hang ups but I trust him to do right by people as best he can.”

“How’d he manage that, did he use his family’s connections?”

“Hah! No, they disowned him. Absolutely furious. The whole reason he was finessed into control of the academy was to give them direct influence over the system and he ruined that. No he was smart and used equal parts strongarm tactics and politics. He quietly cultivated enough students with a sympathetic vision which in time became alumni that were willing to back him by blade if necessary. He had a significant power bloc behind him before anyone realised what he was up to.”

Blanche’s feral grin came back. “He told me they tried to oust him from control once before realising how many full warmages were willing to draw steel over it. Even generations later there’s still plenty of new blood like myself that’ll gladly fight to keep Talbot in control of the academy.”

“And the politics?”

“He was smart enough to make concessions. He lets the old blood dictate what gets directly taught as part of the curriculum and almost never interferes there, so we still grow up as mushrooms and they get mages primed as soldiers, but he’s taken an iron grip over who acts as a preceptor. He only picks people he trusts are going to help reintegrate you into society without being swindled. If there wasn’t a damn war on really most of what I’d be doing with you is just acting as a guide while you experienced how the real world works. Also teaching you the arts of navigating noble wankers.”

Blanche made a retching noise which got Milly to chuckle.

“At the end of the day Talbot has his line in the sand, and it’s clear that his ambitions begin and end with the academy. His actual direct threat to the established powers is minimal as long as they don’t poke the bear. Might be a bit of a scuffle when he finally picks someone to succeed him though but I’m sure he’ll be ready for it.”

“Would you do it?”

“Nyehhh… maybe?” Blanche wiggled her hand undecidedly. “It’d piss off all the right people which would tickle my heart but it’d tie me down. I really do like being a preceptor. I get to show off all my tricks to you kids and forgive me for being a sap but watching you all experience the real world, all the good and the shit parts of it, for the first time never stops being its own kind of magic.”

“Glad someone’s looking out for me, Blanche. These last few days have been an awful suspense and I’ve still got no idea what to expect, but you’re making it feel like I’ll be able to get through it. So cheers for that I guess.”

“You’re going to have a lot of questions. Ask them, it’s not your fault you don’t know the answer and guiding you is the reason I do this. Here’s an easy tip though, things are going to be hectic for quite some time so take advantage of any chance you get to rest.”

Blanche punctuated this advice by tossing a bag to Milly. It’d been a long day and she realised Blanche’s constant tests had run her ragged both physically and mentally. She looked around, then shrugged and stretched out on the floor using the bag as a makeshift pillow. Thankfully the heavy gambeson was providing some padding against the thick plate armour and while awkward, with exhaustion setting in it wasn’t impossible to drift off to sleep.

Milly woke to Blanche kicking her and the sound of gunshots.

Hi everyone, I'm not dead! I am, however, in the midst of reclassing my MOS for the army, so I've been very busy lately and unable to write. Things are normalizing somewhat as I fall into a better routine, but I'm still left with relatively little free time.

Just wanted to let you all know that I am picking the story back up though, and will not be letting it die on the vine, but updates will be slow, at least for this year, as I navigate through my course. I'll likely take some time after this post to create the next arc in my head and then write it out, see where it takes Xander and the team. So hopefully I can get at least a couple posts out in the next month. But no promises. As always, thank you for your support, engagement, and for reading!

Additionally, I think I'd like to maybe commission some art for the story, does anyone have any good recommendations for artists to contact, or happens to be an artist who enjoys the story? Obviously, I'll be paying and not asking for freebies, and you will be credited for your work. I’d like to maybe commission a couple ‘book covers’ as well as some character art of the team.

Now I need to come up with approximately another one hundred and twenty words so that my post doesn’t get auto deleted. Tiny lore post?

 

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The method by which reagents are collected from dragons varies from species to species, and even by individual. While there is, of course, the stereotypical method of killing a dragon and harvesting the body, this is not the only way one may attain alchemical or other crafting materials. Should one find an old nest, for example, shed scales may be obtained. Reagents such as the substances that dragons excrete to create flames can also be gathered from skill users who have managed to bond a dragon into their service, though this is rare. Most noteworthy, however, are the rumors of trade cartels who have entered trade deals with larger, older, and more intelligent dragons themselves. It is unknown how many such dragons exist, or how many have entered into agreements with various nations or merchants, as the knowledge is not disseminated to the public, but the high price of any reagent derived from a dragon would indicate that either, there are few, or they demand a high price for their services, or both.

Jerry 

It’s a new look for him, he reflects. 

He’s checking himself out in the armor locker where his power armor normally lives. It’s already gone, as is his hard suit, loaded up and shipped off with the rest of A company, 1st Undaunted Power Armored Battalion, on the Kandahar Province before the Crimson Tear had gotten anywhere near Ha'quinye controlled space. No, today's outfit is a military green flight suit, and the mix of harness, emergency g-suit and very cut-down hard suit that constitutes the rest of a flyer's uniform for the Undaunted. 

While a good chunk of commandos were about to exfiltrate the Ha’quinye’s home system via a cargo ship, and would then rendezvous with a lighter that would take them to the fleet, to include Neysihen and Purisha, that was going to take a fair bit of time, and it had been determined that once they had the data from the commando raid, Jerry needed to be on the Kandahar Province as soon as possible.

Hence the new gear. Jerry was going flying on one of the fastest, stealthiest and meanest aerospace craft in the Undaunted inventory and that meant dressing the part for safety’s sake if nothing else. 

His new gear had even been customized for him, with the flight safety equipment shop clearly not wanting to miss the chance to show off their skills to the boss. The armored collar of his harness that actually seals his life support has his two stars on each side, and 'BRIDGER' is cleanly emblazoned on the left side of the lightly armored rig. 

On the right, where most of the pilots paint their call signs, some enterprising sailor had decided that being the big cheese meant he could skip the formal process, and had just painted the words 'The Boss' with the aid of a stencil and some colors, making it pop aggressively. 

The tour de force, however, is the helmet. The flight safety boys and girls had outdone themselves with a blue helmet the color of his cape with a solid rendition of the rampant wolf that appears on the cloak the sword sworn had made for him all those months ago. It'd do... but he does wish he had a pair of aviator sun glasses from back home to go with what he'd mentally started calling the 'Top Gun Starter Kit', after a similar gear issue back on Earth that his aircrew buddies had told him about. This equipment is all apparently permanent issue; someone had bribed his usual armorer, GM2 Bisen, to modify his armor rack to accommodate it with his other gear. He couldn’t honestly say that he minds.

He takes the helmet out of his new cubby and tucks it under his arm, then walks out towards the hangar where Nkla 'FANGS' Osier is waiting for him. She’s already in her little scout ship, engines warmed up and ready to go. 

Also waiting for him is a selection of the ladies from the Bridger household. He'd said his goodbyes at the Den, of course, but Sylindra had insisted on coming to see him off. As had Evie, Holly, the freshly pregnant Cami, and the newest lady of the house, if only by technicality for now, Chaisa Rauxtim… who’s also carrying along Cindy and Shuras! 

"Well, it looks like a bigger group than I expected to see Fangs and I off."

Sylindra smiles, warming him up instantly as she leans in and steals a kiss. 

"Of course. You might be gone for quite some time, and we couldn't just let you sneak out like a thief in the night. Or morning, I suppose." Sylindra giggles into her hand demurely. "Need I say it?"

"If you want to."

"I think you know. Do what you must, then come home. I'll miss you, my heart."

"And I you." 

With another kiss, Syl steps aside, letting Evie cycle in. She looks him up and down with a delicately raised eyebrow. 

"I like the new look."

"Don't get used to it. Don't want to steal everyone's schtick on this damn ship. I'm supposed to be a black shoe sailor these days."

Evie leans in and steals a kiss. 

"Well, don't lose the flight suit when you get home."

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"You can consider it an order if you like."

Another kiss and it's Holly's turn, the demure vixen surprising him by throwing her arms around his neck and embracing him with the kind of torrid passion that… actually requires the word ‘torrid’ to properly describe. It’s the sort of gesture that has, to Jerry's prior knowledge, predominantly been the domain of the covers of romance novels. Quiet though she might be, Holly certainly knows how to steal his breath away! She gives him an impish smile and a curtsy before moving off to join Sylindra and Evie. 

In a contrast to Holly, Cami walks up slowly, a hand resting on her still trim stomach, more or less where one of her hands had been glued ever since they had found out she was expecting. It’s funny; she had held out the longest of the Volpir girls, but her mothering instincts had clearly hit her like a freighter doing just shy of light speed. 

"I don't like you leaving the Den. While I'm. You know." 

Jerry gently pulls her into his arms. 

"I'm only going because I have to. I'd much rather be home with you, working on baby names and helping you figure out how to knit."

Cami giggles, the silly smile on her husband's face cutting through the heavy mood just a bit. 

"If I start knitting, I'm expecting you to stop me."

"Just as soon as I get back, darling."

"You will come back?"

"Trust me."

Jerry leans in and gives Cami a deep kiss. 

"I have a lot to come back to." 

Cami gives Jerry another kiss and steps aside, only for Jerry to more or less be pounced by a pair of high speed toddlers leaping at him at about shoulder level. 

"Daddy!"

"Papa!" 

Cindy and Shuras gamely nuzzle at his cheeks, the two little girls clearly knowing that something’s up and that the Mamas are giving Jerry their affection. So they want to too!

"You girls be good while I'm away, alright? Mind your mothers."

"Are you gonna be safe, Papa?" Shuras asks, her timid streak coming out for a moment. 

"As safe as I can be, and I have a few of your Mamas and Auntie Shalkas to keep an eye on me to make sure I stay that way." 

Another round of hugs, and Jerry's fielding the girls to Evie… and is left with a slightly embarrassed looking Chaisa. 

"I'm sorry about that, d-darling. They leapt right out of my arms!"

"It's alright. They were just being enthusiastic." 

Jerry gently takes the judge's hand and guides her down for a kiss. 

"I'm surprised you didn't take intelligence's invitation to join the Kandahar Province," he says quietly.

"Much as I wish to go with you, I believe I can do more good for both our family and the Undaunted here. Besides, as you say, you have some of my soon-to-be sisters to keep an eye on you, and with the help of the war room's tools I can even communicate to you as if I was at your side."

"Not quite as good as your company, your honor, but it'll do for this trip."

Chaisa gives Jerry his last kiss of the day. 

"Let us pray it is a short one. Be safe on your journey. I. Well."

Whatever Chaisa wants to say, it's lost in the sound of the stealth fighter's engines shifting pitch slightly; a petty officer from the deck crew hurries out to guide everyone away. Jerry takes a final glance at his family as they exit the hangar, then locks his helmet into place and climbs into Nkla Osier's second seat.

"Sorry about the delay, Fangs." 

"No worries, sir… though we should get a move on. There's some orbital mechanics that are happening with the moon and one of the asteroid belts I want to dodge. Thankfully, with the Undaunted upgrades we should be able to disappear at top speed when the time comes, and she's currently rigged up with what the spec ops weasels tell me is called social stealth. So if we get buzzed I look like an independent resource scout again instead of a badass deep space fighter."

The Miak woman grins at him through her face plate. 

"Till the fangs come out, anyway."

"Well, fingers crossed we won't need them today, let's beat feet commander, I think we'd both rather be at home but we've got work to do."

"Aye aye, sir."

In no time at all, Jerry's walking into the briefing room on the Kandahar Province after a smooth flight from the Tear. 

"Attention on deck!"

"As you were!"

Jerry's still in his new flight suit, and still wishes he had a pair of aviators to complete the look. Maybe somewhere in the galaxy could build him a set of Raybans... apparently intelligence has a new Gohb specialist on staff who could make just about anything. Something to consider for later. 

Jerry takes his place at the head of the conference table at the center of this particular briefing room. Commander Sha'Ress, the Province's Apuk skipper, waits at his right along with Luksa Skall, commanding the fleet, along with Scott Le Fae Senior, Tyler Sarkin, Colleen Rowley, and Scotty Le Fae Junior. To his left sits Nikita, Jaruna, ‘Doc' Hanson, Kwan Jeon and James Puller, the ranking Marines for the operation. Nikita is in overall command of the ground force, Jaruna’s leading the power armored composite unit, Hanson is commanding his cavalry squadron with Kwan and James commanding their respective companies and attached heavy weapons platoons, along with some other special friends they'd brought along for the trip. 

"Alright, folks. That was a long flight, so I expect intelligence has actually been getting some work done for once. What do we have?"

Commander Michael Hawthorne, Diana's right hand man, immediately stands up from the first row of seats surrounding the conference table and triggers a holo projector. 

"Well, sir, we've got good news and bad news."

Jerry arches an eyebrow at Hawthorne. "Give me the bad news, Commander."

"The bad news is that the Ha'quinye expeditionary force that's floating around looking for trouble is indeed trying to find the Sword of the Stars. The good news is they still don't have the foggiest clue where it is, though they do think they're getting close by running down leads from various Wild Space communities. Like. Very, very close. We've managed to hack into the communications satellites that they're using to take those tips in, so we're getting those messages now too. Most of them are bunk, but there's been a few serious tipoffs to all sorts of crap - from a derelict battleship that's older than the first Nagasha primal to a stash of weapons so foul that the Ha'quinye flotilla commander hit the site with a full orbital bombardment and refused to put what they were in any records. I'd guess it was a bioweapon of some kind, because they burned the place to ash and rubble with laser and plasma fire for over a day."

"How do you know that?"

"Their commander's report included high-resolution battle damage assessment photos. Our people had a look and the BDA's good. If there was a bug or some nasty chemical in there it's officially gone now."

"That sounds like pretty good news."

"It is, sir, But it's not the good news."

Jerry leans back a bit, motioning for Hawthorne to continue. 

"Well lay it on us, Commander. We're all ears."

"Simply put, sir, the Ha'quinye have as much of an idea of what the Sword of the Stars is as we do, and quite possibly less. We pulled it out of their records. We've got everything they've got now, and our analysts are clearly better than theirs. Not that the boys and girls back on the Tear haven't been driven to near madness trying to puzzle that one out. Sir." 

Jerry nods slowly, considering that information. 

"Alright. That's certainly not a bad thing… but it's not a good thing for us until we know what the Sword is and can more easily track down leads." 

"There's some indication in the Ha'quinye archives that the Sword was 'buried' on a remote planet for safe keeping, but we're talking pictures of fragments of paper here, sir. The other good news, however, is that we caught a good tip with our system. Pirate space station a few systems away. Based on our penetration of the Ha'quinye comm network, we should be able to beat them there. Not sure how you'd want to go in, sir, but we'd need to go pretty fast."

Jerry considers it for a moment. Seems like this trip is going to be anything but boring. 

"Start working out an op plan for a smash and grab. I want to hit that station like a meteor shower, and I want to get everyone on it in chains or rescued respectively, and their data banks drained dry before anyone can blink. Then we reduce it to a scrap heap on the way out."

Jerry steeples his fingers as people start to move and talk around him, considering the nebulous Sword of the Stars again. 

No. Not a boring trip at all. 

Series Directory Last

The entire class stood to attention. Mr Thomas, their instructor stood before them, a strange sense of superior smugness surrounding him. A sense of smug he had not shown since they first met him. Generally speaking, he was calm, stoic, at times, almost timid, but seeing him like this threw the girls for a loop. A class of twenty students, two Angels, two Devils, several beastkin, one rare three-tailed foxgirl and the rest being elves of various kinds. These students were young, too young to learn guns, play with mechs, or use tanks, so they needed something more... age appropriate. That is why they now stood in front of a museum of some kind. A strangely noisy place, especially for a museum.

"Good morning ladies! I hope everyone enjoyed the trip?" Mr Thomas yelled over the noises behind him.

The girls either shook their heads or shrugged in response, their two other teachers - an Orc woman and a Catwoman - both just stood there with a polite smile.

"Good! Your trip is about to get a lot more comfortable! Welcome to a museum. You are all too young to earn firearm certifications, too young to play with armoured vehicles or heavy weaponry, or even play with explosives. So here we are at the Railway Museum, the largest and most prominent in the country. You are about to learn all about humanity's greatest technological and societal achievement!" He yelled happily as the loud screech of a train whistle could be heard in the background, scaring some of the girls.

One girl - a short Wood Elf - raised her hand. "Uhh… So that isn't your greatest achievement?" She asked, pointing a finger above her at the kilometre long Terran Battlecruiser in close orbit above them.

"A good question, yes, it is a great achievement, but it wouldn't be possible without the primary foundation. The principle of Logistics! the process, nay, the entire concept of everything you see here could NOT be done without what lies in this museum, the largest and most prominent of its kind. This museum is the main storage area for our entire history of the concept of logistical infrastructure. The purest essence of the ideal of getting Thing and/or person from Point A to Point B, all distilled into a single machine that fuelled the entirety of the Industrial Revolution. Welcome, ladies, to your first introduction to Trains!" He chirped happily and hastily ushered everyone through the front gate.

The gate led not to white walls and pristine floors, but an open plan mega-huge hangar with dirt and gravel, the sounds of steel, chugging engines and steam whistles.

"Come ladies! Stay OUT of the orange zones, those are safety zones, do not EVER enter those places. Apologies for the noise, the museum is gearing up for an upcoming exhibition to celebrate the five hundredth anniversary of the first ever true railroad journey. Built custom tracks and everything with its own independent rail network just for the celebration. Come quick, I have arranged something special just for this occasion, the Gift tours train is still chugging despite the ongoing activity. Hurry now!" He barked and waved them through.

The girls all felt very small and vulnerable among the enormous machinery, chugging components and hissing steam. All the sounds and noises mixed with the hastily yelled commands of engineers, drivers and station masters in a frantic flurry of work. They passed through two hangars, all of which were bustling with activity before exiting the major storage bays to one of the platforms to the side. There sat the imposing façade of a steam engine, four men in hard hats and high visibility vest, one of which was hunched over the controls in the cabin. Hovering around them was one of the Terran's civilian grade drones, recording all the action. Mr Thomas brought them past the platform and crossed into an isolated, noise proof classroom, the walls decorated with pictures of ancient engines and steam trains.

"Okay then... Take a seat ladies! Reward or not, we are still on school time, we have a lesson to do. Come, come!" He clapped his hands and the girls all scrambled to find a seat.

When the girls were all seated, the lesson began. Mr Thomas pulled a few textbooks, grouping the girls up together to share and positioned a projector to where it needed to be for the lesson. He gave them time to skim through before starting proper.

"Right then, we begin. For today's lesson, which is especially pertinent, turn your textbooks to page 129, we will be discussing the Wood Burning Western and Atlantic Railroad Number Three 'General', a 4-4-0 'American' model steam locomotive. The very same one that is sitting out there on that platform. And after this lesson, we will ride on it to a nice tourist spot. But first, education." He said, and used the projector to pull up the first slide. "Who can tell me what this is?"

The picture was of a steam train, unknown make, model and no number on the faceplate. It looked very small, especially compared to the monsters they passed by. Eventually, one of the two Angels in the class raised a hand. "It says here, the train in that picture is the very first steam engine that is recorded to have done a long haul mission. According to this it was built by British Inventor Richard Trevithick."

"Correct! Well done, yes, that was in fact the very FIRST recorded event of a steam train delivering men and resources. In this case, seventy men and a load of ten tons of iron." He said.

The girls were all taken aback by that. "Ten tons? All at once?" One girl asked.

"Oh yes, ten tons and seventy men, and the technology just got better after that. And all of that force, all that pressure, is done by doing what?" He said, his eyebrow raising.

They scrambled to find the answer in their textbook. The Three tailed foxgirl raised her hand. "Steam powered with wood burning so... All that is done by boiling water?"

"CORRECT! Yes, it all just comes down to the process of boiling water. Same with nuclear energy - same concept - just really, really complicated and a LOT more powerful. Maybe one of these days I'll take you to a nuclear reactor and show you how it worked. One of the decommissioned ones. Moving on, who can tell me what is the modern equivalent cargo haul? Page 391." He replied.

The girls all scoured their textbooks and several hands shot up. One of the smaller Wood Elves, the youngest in the class by a few weeks was called on. "Uh, according to this... Holy crap... I mean uh, depending on the cargo and gauge, it says here, within America, which is where we are, ten thousand to eighteen thousand tons."

"Yes excellent, well done Amari. The largest ever cargo load was set in the year 2001, BHP set the world record for heaviest train ever recorded at ninety nine thousand tonnes! That's a hefty thing, weighed almost as much as a modern Frigate! Now, this is a question specifically about the General. Who was its manufacturer?" He asked, switching the projection to the next slide.

The girls flipped through pages and an orc girl's hand raised. "Rogers, Ketchum and Grosvenor in Paterson, New Jersey."

"Correct, well done! An original variant of that very same train is currently sitting pretty in the Southern Museum Civil War and Locomotive History in Kennesaw Georgia. Beautiful machine, saw it on my last holiday. Yes, I am in fact a train nerd, and I am proud of it." He said, making his eyebrows raise comically.

This solicited a chuckle from the teacher and the students. "Now we come to the important part... How exactly does it work? I shall show you."

He pulled up a useful tool - a Galatube Video with a detailed animation giving an abridged version of how it all functioned.

When the video was over, he resumed the lesson. "Everybody got that? It is indeed that simple. Now, to see who was paying attention. Who can tell me what the 4-4-4 means on the General?"

All hands shot up and the only Devilgirl was picked. "It means how many wheels are used. Four at the front to keep it on the track, four driving wheels where the engine pushes power, and four wheels at the back?"

"Correct! Well done Lacey! Now, to those who were paying special attention, how many cars were behind the General on the platform outside and what were their names?" He asked.

They all looked at each other for a few moments, trying to remember all the overwhelming stuff they saw. Eventually one of the catgirls raised a hand. "Uh... Five, I think? The thing right up against the locomotive is the thing called a Tender right? And there were three passenger cars, and a car that was like a smaller version of the passenger cars? A Caboose I think. Right?"

"Correct! Well done Gemma very well done! For reference's sake, yes, three passenger cars, a Tender and a Caboose. The Tender contains-?" he asked.

Hands flew up, an Orc girl was picked. "Uh... fuel, meaning wood I think, and water for the boiler thing?"

"Correct! Thank you Agora. Now put the textbooks away girls, it's time to ride on the train! Everyone straighten up your uniforms and put the textbooks on the front desk, let's go!" He said with excitement.

The students all scurried after him as they left, and entered the train car at the front in short order. The car fit them all comfortably with room to spare, but were kept in close proximity with the youngest sitting next to the Orc teacher. Mr Thomas looked at his watch and procured two high-visibility vests from the front.

"Now... Here's the exciting part. Karina, come hither please!" he said.

Karina, a High Elf, got out of her seat and wandered up to him. "Put this on and don't take it off. Here, a helmet, don't take it off either, and also these headphones to protect your ears." He said. She obeyed his orders and quickly put the attire on, looking up at him questioningly. "Right... As the highest scoring student in this school, I hereby give you the perfect chance to come with me for a tour of the engine itself and the main cabin. Maybe even if the engineers let us, maybe even drive! Let us hope that this special privilege will spur your classmates to also excel in their studies!" He said, giving the rest of the class a sly grin.

Her face lit up with excitement and the other girl's eyes lit up with jealousy. She scurried after him, careful to step over the couplings and climbed into the main cabin where four men were standing about. One was using a drone remote to do some recording, one was standing outside to check and give hand signals, and the other two were keeping an eye on the pressure gauge while tossing wood into the fire. Karina stood back from the inferno while waiting for commands as Mr Thomas introduced himself, and then her to the men. They all greeted her warmly but kept an eye on their actual jobs.

"Okay Karina, take a look at the controls. From what you read in the textbook and what I showed you, can you tell me what these levers are for?" Mr Thomas said, gesturing to the odd contraptions.

"Uhh… if I remember... This one controls the Brake that stops the train. This one is the throttle, I think it was called, and it makes the train go faster. And that one up there is the whistle. I think that thing is used as a signal or something?" She replied, pointing at each mechanism.

The men all nodded in agreement and gave an approving clap. "Well done Karina, top of the class as expected! Now... I think that deserves a reward." Mr Thomas said, and gestured for her to pull the whistle.

She double checked with the others in the cabin and reached up to pull the chain. She yanked it a bit and a sharp heavy whistle erupted from above her and a jet of steam shot out of the whistle opening.

"ALL ABOARD!" The stationmaster yelled.

The men all gently carted Karina away as they started their work and released the Brake. The train started moving. Karina was gently hoisted out of the cabin in the left window so she could get a closer look at the train's mechanism, and she could see the wheels slipping slightly as the beast picked up momentum. She was carefully tucked back into the cabin and was made to help throw more wood into the fire. She got to blow the whistle a few more times as the train picked up speed and left the station. Eventually, more practised hands were needed at the controls and Mr Thomas returned to the cabin, both of them covered in a thin layer of soot with Karina's face now sporting a perky, happy smile.

The rest of the girls half laughed at her for the soot on her face, and half because of jealousy due to how excited she looked. Mrs Robin, the Elven teacher scowled and waved her elven hand, using some of her magic to clean her up. The sooty marks vanished and Mr Thomas retrieved the safety gear before they reached cruising speed. The train charged forward, now in full swing with its signature chugging noise. All the girls were looking out the windows, asking Karina a flood of questions and checking the countryside. Eventually the train chugged its way into a side rail leading to a town called 'Nowheresville', and soon after the train slowed and stopped at the platform there.

As soon as the train was properly stopped each girl flooded out of the cabin to gawk at the locomotive as it remained idle. Mr Thomas clapped his hands and called the girls to order again. "Right ladies, here's our stop! Welcome to Nowheresville version 2.0, a town made to cater to museum tours and live displays of ancient hardware. Here, we shall have lunch at the local restaurant - all paid for of course - and when we are done with lunch, we will go to the gift shop! Each of you will be given a few bucks to spend on something meaningful to take home to show your parents. But do NOT forget we are still on school time, and there WILL be a pop quiz on this subject next week!"

"Understood, Mr Thomas!" They all replied.

"Fantastic! Now, LUNCH!" he yelled, and led the gaggle of giggling girls to the restaurant as the train geared up to turn around for the return trip.