Hi,

Sorry if this question is not appropriate here

Is there any better way to read these stories for people with high prescription glasses? Asking as I typically read on kindle/kobo with font size turned way up for reducing eye strain.

Is there any way to read these stories on an ereader?

thanks a lot

This one is done and I'm well on my way to chapter 14 as well...hopefully. My computer has been a bit of a pain lately and I've been having to fix it between writing and work shifts. I'm supposed to be getting more down time as my deployment comes to an end but that also depends entirely on what the next unit plans to do and how they want to run things. It may somehow equal less because I'm more senior at my position (due to the injury) which still hurts like hell.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter 13

"This is your Exo harness." She said handing him what amounted to a 5-point harness covered in wires and sensors. "Our Exos are older civilian models and nowhere near as fancy as the military rigs so you’ll need that to properly interface."

"I kind of expected that." He said wrestling with the harness. He’d had plenty of experience with this before so getting in adjusting it wasn’t too much of a problem. The back however needed some assistance.

"Damn things get tangled too easily," She said walking around behind him and began working on the straps. One of All’ain’s hands rested on his shoulder while the other ran down his back.

Jamie didn't fully freeze but he did turn and look up at the woman. "Have you gotten it yet?"

"Oh yeah," She said after a brief pause, “Was just making sure everything was set up.”

"Uh huh," He said before taking a breath, "Now that this harness is on?"

“First move around a bit to make sure there aren’t any snags and it’s comfortable.”

Jamie did as instructed going through a range of movements. “Yeah, it feels fine.”

“Not too tight anywhere, doesn't need adjustment?”

“No ma’am.”

“Please just All’ain.” She said, smirking down at him.

“It’s fine.”

"Okay, now we get you plugged in and sized up to an Exo." She said, "The harness does some of the heavy lifting for the size of the pilot but we still need to get you preset into the system before we start running you through the simulation."

"Simulation?"

"You don't think you'd be given access to an Exo with no real training, did you?" She smiled broadly. "Hop your pretty self in the cockpit of number seven."

Finding seven hadn't been difficult. It was the third Exo in the rack. Which was marked as birth four. He didn't want to ask about the confusion that little bit of mismanagement was going to cause. Climbing in was easy and to his pleasure the sensors were easy to find and hook into his harness.

"Cute and clever," She said grinning as he finished plugging himself up. "Though you got the arms and legs crossed, let me help you adjust them.”

"I’ve got it,” Jamie said, quickly fixing the mistake. “Just trying to learn for myself.”

“Love an independent streak in my men.” She chuckled and patted the side of the cockpit. “I’m going to head to the control booth. I’ll patch into your coms and let you know when I’m ready.”

“Thank you very much ma’am.” He answered, making sure to maintain steady eye contact.

"No need to thank me. I don't do much besides fill out a roster and check off training lists." She said, "Also make sure none of you humans get silly ideas on what these things are meant for."

"No robot fighting leagues," He answered.

"Exactly, One of you guys tried to convince me into making one of them 'tequila gundam' whatever that's supposed to be." She shrugged, "I'm going to set you up for the simulator. Don't go anywhere."

All’ain headed for her control booth leaving him to familiarize himself with the exo. It wasn’t impossibly complicated. Just alien and something he’d have to familiarize himself with. He occasionally saw someone walk by but they all seemed to be doing their own thing. Some were maintenance techs, judging by their tools, some were pilots with large canned energy drinks. Reminded Jamie to hit up a vending machine when he got a chance. He hoped he could cross the yard without getting groped by her.

"You the new guy?" A short and broad latino man shouted as he approached from the front, "Keep an eye on Allen. She's alright but...gets a bit..grabby."

"Thanks, I picked up on that." Jamie said to the guy, "Are you the guy who tried to talk her into tequila Gundam?"

"Ha, she told you about that?" He said, "Marco, but yeah she’s alright at about arms length. Two arms length if she actually likes you."

"Any troubles from her?"

"Nobody has ever had to put hands on her." He said before walking off. Jamie had worked factories enough to pick up on that. She was an assault case waiting to happen and nobody did anything because she hadn't done anything yet. This was the type of Shil that got Wade nearly violent.

"I'm going to close the hatch and start the sim." She said into the coms, "That's Marco, the human that tried to-"

"Tequila Gundam," Jamie finished, "Yeah I asked about it."

"Alright we are going to start with something simple, don't fall over."

The trio of interior agents had worked straight through the night into the afternoon combing over the data. Everything from higher command to the lower enlisted’s pads were grabbed, searched, cleared, and searched again. Outgoing messages were combed through for any amount of data larger than a picture and even the pictures were examined. The omnipads had to be cleared and returned to their owners swiftly otherwise the base would risk shutting down. The PACE plan allowed for this but it would result in bottlenecks and if something were to go wrong because of one of those you can bet the Interior would share some of the blame.

They were sorted, scanned, compiled, and checked for anything that might be a bug or leak and they had found nothing. So they went through them again the hard way. Loosened up the restrictions and looked for any red flags. So far still nothing of note. A few girls leaking their personal schedules to guys off base. Complaining about their NCO’s. Maybe the name of an officer or what they were doing that day. But nothing truly compromising.

“Anything on your end?” Agent Toim’la said, taking her eyes off the screen to give them a rest. She’d sorted through all the personal comms and messages for an entire company for two hours. Nothing looked like a large data cache had been sent even on the deleted hardware and no messages looked out of place. None of the lower enlisted’s gear had even shown a point of access. Only outgoing messages were memes, gifs, and some lurid comments about the human men they had hooked up with, or choice terms for men who shot them down.

“Nothing of note,” Ulina answered, “Just the same old stuff that all lower enlisted talk about. And a lot of dick picks.”

“We were them once.”

“Yup I guarantee you the nco’s are going to have the same stuff in theirs.” Ulina said, “The ranks don’t clean up, their appearances simply shift.”

“Ha fair point, I’m going to compile another company’s crap. See if anything actually trips it up this time. While the computer is doing that, I’ll go and grab some dinner.” She stood up stretched enough to put her forearms flat against the ceiling and looked to her fellow interior agent, “want some?”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Spaghetti and meat sauce.” Toim’la smiled. “A nice filling Earth dish.”

“Yes please. Don’t forget to ask the ma’am if she wants anything.” Ulina gestured to the closed door that had become their senior officer’s office. She had sequestered herself there since last night when she began going through the officer’s omnipads. 

She’d emerged a few times to use the restroom and get something from a vending machine but to their knowledge she hadn't eaten any real food. 

Tentatively Toim’la knocked on the door.

“Enter” Came agent Reas’s voice, she sounded exhausted but not dead to the universe.

Toim’la cracked the door a bit. “Ma’am I’m going to get some lunch. Do you want anything?”

“Hold that thought, I may have something.” Reas was glued to her screen finger resting on her tusk. “Get Ulina in here also.”

That something turned out to be porn. Alot of porn. At first they thought Agent Reas was playing some kind of practical joke on them but she assured them to look closer. After a moment they both saw it and gasped. It was the Red Stone Garrison’s officers and senior enlisted. They were all getting railed by various masked men.

That wasn’t the only similarity. It all seemed to be taking place in the same series of rooms creating a surrealness to the mosaic of pornagraphy.

“The entire officer corps?”

“Well clearly not all of them.” Reas said, “There are some in absentia from this extracurricular revelry but it’s a healthy percentage of them.”

“What the Deeps am I looking at?”

“The command personnel’s personal homemade porn stash.” Agent Reas said, “Pulled from their personal omnipads. From what I can tell it’s something they all have in common.”

“Getting railed and recording it?”

“No,” She said with a sigh, “Sleeping with masked men in these same rooms. Go get us lunch, I’m going to call in someone for an interview. See if I can get a good explanation for this.”

Jamie got home to the smell of Wade cooking while music was blasting from the TV. He glanced and his suspicions confirmed it was Powerwolf. Wade hadn’t seen him come in or if he hadn’t he didn’t care. As he was still dancing shirtless to the song.

He considered leaving him as he was but then realized how many times Wade had shot him when he wasn’t paying attention. Smoothly he grabbed the nerf gun off the book case by the door and squeezed the trigger. Sending the small yellow ball into his friend's back.

“Ouch,” Wade said with more alarm than actual pain. “Oh hey Jamie.”

“Hey yourself,” Jamie said, “What are you cooking?”

“Just meal prep for the week.” He answered, “Chicken, some rice and broccoli. You look beat.”

“Exo training.” Jamie answered, “They gave me kind of a promotion in a different department.”

“Bitchin,” Wade said, “Do you need a neurohelmet or is there a machine spirit to appease?”

“Closer to neurohelmet.” Jamie said, “A bunch of sensors assisted with a small grav generator to keep it upright.”

“Got a name picked out?”

“It’s a glorified forklift,” Jamie said, “I don’t think I’ll name her.”

“Wanna bet?”

“No, because I know I’ll lose that bet the first time it falls over or is damaged.” Jamie answered. “Halloween plans?”

“Bit late to bring it up.” Wade said ,”I’m gonna be working.”

“Fair point, thinking of asking the girls to come over for Billy and Mandy.”

“Not likely,” Wade said, “Have you checked your pad yet?”

“No, I just kinda headed home.” He said, looking at his messages. “Security thing, there’s a scare of some insurrectionist malware attack and they have the enlisted locked down to the base.”

“That’s what they’re saying,” Wade answered, “Whether you buy it or not is entirely up to you.”

“And you think it is?”

“Not a malware attack otherwise they wouldn’t need to lock everyone down.” Wade answered flatly, “Odds are it’s something someone above them said.”

“Well…shit,” Jamie answered, “Was going to put on some wolfman or classic dracula.”

“Alien may work just as well.” Wade said, “Or Aliens, something like that where the aliens are phallic and chasing the soldiers. Also claustrophobic.”

“Not the time for advice,” Jamie said, “Although I wonder how that would go over culturally?”

“You could always find someone on the net talking about it.” Wade said, “God knows they have the same youtube culture we have.”

“When are things going to calm down for you?” Jamie finally asked.

“After this week I should be getting another night off.” Wade said, “Working with some new guys and learning stuff to answer client questions. But I am off tonight. Thinking of some chicken parm, a workout, and something artisanal, terrestrial, and spooky.”

“Sweet. I’ll get some stuff out that I've been meaning to work on.” 

“Major Tinala,” Agent Reas said with a pleasant smile, “Please have a seat, this won’t take too long I hope.”

“Of course, anything I can do to help the investigation.” The woman of middling years said with a curt respectful nod.

“This question isn’t part of any official record so you can relax, make yourself comfortable.” She said, ‘This is more of a personal question to clear up some confusion I’ve stumbled across while going through your files.”

“What’s the confusion ma’am?” She said, leaning forward and looking genuinely concerned.

“First your record and yourself aren’t under any scrutiny,” She said raising a hand, “It’s more of a personal question. When I was going through your omnipad’s files I stumbled across a personal video of yours from a few weeks ago.”

“Personal video?” She said, raising an eyebrow, “I’m not following.”

“You were in a private room with a human gentleman with what looked to be a canine mask on his face.” She said flatly.

“Oh OH,” She said, ‘I got a bit drunk at the Embassy and blew a paycheck on one of the dancers, he goes by Diego.”

“I’m not following,” Reas said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“The Velvet Embassy is a strip club where some pretty boys put on a show. We get drunk-”

“How did you get a video of him railing you on your omnipad?”

“Well there’s an event called an auction. You bid on the dancers, then you go back to a private room and well…get railed. And for a nominal extra fee they record it to your omnipad.”

“Goddess above,” She said, “And you’ve never told any of these dancers anything classified?”

“No ma’am,” She said sharply, “I want all my girls to get home safely. I’ve filled out my share of letters home when I was in the Sand Box out East.”

“One more question,” She said, “How many personnel go to this strip club?”

“Honestly ma’am it’s easier to ask who doesn’t go.” Agent Reas stared at her blankly as she waited for the major to continue, “We pretty much bar the lower enlisted from the place but most officers and upper NCO’s get a chance to go.”

“Thank you major that will be all.” She said trying her best to maintain a calm demeanor as she showed the major the door. Closed it, waited a few moments, then flipped the table. “Have these morons never heard of operational security!”

“Ma’am, should I get a file put together for the Velvet Embassy?” Toim’la asked after a momentary pause.

“Yes, and I need to go ahead and call up.” She said, “This situation is insane.”

Toilm’la entered her office a half hour later. With three comprehensive files on the Velvet Embassy. Two from local law enforcement who had executed warrants and came back with nothing but notes of how cooperative the staff and the owners were with their trafficking investigation.

The third was a much more thorough interior investigation. One that concluded in a full scale raid but surprisingly no arrests. Nothing of note was found. Nobody said anything detainable, much less arrestable to the agents on sight. She did end up detaining a few of the employees and one of the owner’s Joe, but beyond that they were released a week or so later with no charges. They had found nothing to investigate them on. Then the agent was packed off and sent to handle the dead end job of ‘human led off world smuggling’ known colloquial as the dead end of the Earth assignment.

“What should we do ma’am?”

“Tread carefully,” She said, “I’m going to make some calls, you and Ulinil get dressed in civilians. You’re going to the club.”

“Well that’s a major with a pair of captains and a few senior NCO’s.” Ulina said, marking them down as they arrived.

“Did you ever think camping outside a strip club was going to be something you did as the Interior?” Toim’la asked, lounging in her seat eating a doughnut.

“It can’t all be the cool girl stuff.” Ulina said, “And as I have a family I’m glad to not be shot at by spies and traitors all the time.”

“I know that but I could be getting half the fantasy while you get to sit there as miss ‘red flag’.” She joked.

“We go into the club in fifteen.” Ulina replied, “Then you get to talk to the pretty boys and I get to sit at the bar and people watch.”

“You don’t know if they’re pretty, they’re all wearing masks.” Toim’la said, “But I guess that is part of the charm.”

“Please stop, some of those boys are young enough to be my son.” She replied, “And how can you even with human men? They have extra hair.”

“Feels weird but not in a bad way.”

“That’s it,” Ulina said, opening her door, “You win, we go into the strip club early just so I don’t have to hear of your hair fetish anymore.”

They approached the doors across the parking lot. A pair of larger than average humans stopped them.

“ID’s ma’ams.” He said with his accented Vati’kre and extended his hands. They flashed him their ID’s, “Know the rules? Don’t touch unless given permission. Don’t remove their masks. Don’t make any problems. Have a good night.”

They entered the club and parted ways to their own assignments. 

Ulini sat at the bar and tried to enjoy her drink. Tried was the operative word as scantily clad men made their way through the club lounged on various women and even more than a few approached her. She reminded herself she was happily married each time and prayed this wasn't a discussion she'd need to have with her husband. Or that her son would never end up showing himself so brazenly on stage. What type of motherless behavior led these men to degrade themselves.

"See anything you like ma'am?" The bar tender, a young man with a red and white mask with a diamond decorating each corner asked. His grin was confident and flirty.

"I'm just shopping around." She lied while sipping her drink, "What about you?"

"Well, I'm working the bar for now," He smiled, "But come back in a week or so and I'll be on the floor."

"How did a cute young thing like you end up working here?" Her motherhood senses were working overtime as she tried desperately not to do the math of the small age difference between this young man and her own son.

"I applied for the job after hearing about it through some friends," He said, "Honestly I did it as a joke at first but the pay is pretty good."

"Four of Diamonds stop flirting, you got other customers." The short bronze skinned woman said with a shout that got his spine stiff. 

"Yes ma'am."

The woman who snapped at him came over, "Sorry about that, he's still a probationary employee so he's off the menu."

"Understood," Ulini said, "Have to keep the new guys in line."

"Yeah," She said looking at one guy on the stage in a mask of some earth animal Ulini didn't recognize. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Another one of these please?" She said, lifting up her drink. And the bartender gladly ran her credit. "And make it virgin."

Agent Toim’la was acting as natural as she could, working her way through the crowded floor. Women crowded the stage as men performed or lounged together with other men as drinks went back and forth and she tried to remain level headed and do her job. She reminded herself it was to see if she could actually talk to one of the dancers and get something from him. She just had to find and approach one of them who wasn't already taken. Easier said than done, approaching men had never been something she was good at.

"You're a new face," A man said from a table as she walked by. She paused and took a look at him taller and had a lanky athletic build. His costume gave off some kind of reptilian vibe as he strode up to her on the floor. He had a gold lizard mask with horns and she half froze when his eyes locked to hers, the rest of his outfit was just as golden and twinkled in the lights of the club and she just noticed he was shirtless except for a small semi translucent veil that barely concealed anything. There was more going on with a wide stretch of cloth coming from his back to his hand connected by small rings giving the appearance of wings.

"Oh I've been here before." She lied to the man who had rested a finger on his chin. "Loads of times mister."

"Please dear call me Aurinax," He smiled looking her up and down, "I don't think I've met you before. How about we talk about how I've missed one so pretty for so long then."

She should say no, she should see the obvious red flags from the mostly naked man presenting himself to her in a golden speedo. She however did remember she was on a mission and getting intel couldn't be too bad.

One drink turned to two turned four then a private booth with a closed curtain and a private show with the mysterious golden man. She knew she asked him questions but couldn’t remember what they were. Or even what his answers were. But damn he was pretty to look at.

At the end of the night the duo made it out of the bar. To a myriad of missed messages on their omnipads that Ulini answered after helping the thoroughly drunken Toim’la into the passenger seat.

“Yes Ma’am it’s a legit strip club.” She answered over her partner’s drunken ramblings in the background. “Yes, military and civilians were in there as well. A few minor nobles and some lesser daughters if my guesses were right. I’m not the most versed in the nobility here. Yes ma’am we’ll meet up at two tomorrow afternoon for a proper debrief. It sounds like you’re exhausted. Thank you ma’am I know we all need the rest.”

The call ended and she looked over and saw Toim’la was passed out in the seat. “You owe me so damn much.”

Proofread by Nightelfbane

Big thanks to u/bluefishcake for the setting.

Here below is a quick plot overview if you want it. Its under spoilers if you don't want it.

Lexy is a guy turning 18 who had a really really rough time for the first years of the invasion. Dari is the recently promoted Interior Agent who pulls him out of a deathtrap. This is the kickstart of their romance. The thing is, things are going to be a bit more... toxic than the usal SSB fiction, reader beware!

----
Trash diving isn't great. 

Most people think the bad part is the smell. It IS bad but it's not the worst. The worst part of trash diving is that trash is usually the same temperature as the air and a thermocast trash container is really really good at thermal conduction. So, during the Montreal winter, said trash container tend to be as cold as the city itself.

Why is Lexy trash diving in the freezing cold and risking frostbite to the bits of his that are touching the container?

Not exactly by choice.

It all began with a Shil community outreach thing. That is to say, three Shil marines had been posted around a major school to hand out merchandise of popular Shil media with free coupons to a Shil streaming service attached to them.

You see, the production company had bribed a supply Sergeant to push a bit of publicity towards young impressionable little alien male teenagers in an effort to secure early market dominance.

So Lexy had naturally acquired a little key ring attachment with Prince Arc from Prince of the Stars. He had proceeded to use said coupon, enjoy the show and the free trial. And promptly pirated the 34 seasons of the show, which he would proceed to binge over the next 6 months.

But alas, he made a critical mistake.

He dared speak of a Shil show for nerds.
Publicly. At school. 

So now Lexy was no longer an average kid. He was a social pariah, a "Purp lover",and he didn't really have any friends left. Oh, and the local school admin ignored his plight because they were very very anti-purp.

And so cruel teenagers, taking a prank way too far, had decided to throw him in the garbage. 

The cold was bad, true, but there actually was something even worse for this specific case of trash diving. The trash container was empty at this moment. And Shil’vati being Shil'vati, they had made the thing very very big, digging a hole in the ground to accommodate the 8 feet (2.5m) of depth the box had.

So now Lexy was in a very cold box, which he was too small to escape from.

So now, in addition to facing charges for assault if they were caught, said cruel teenagers would soon be facing manslaughter charges if nothing was done.

Lexy, being a kind soul, didn’t want that to happen to them. Well no, he did not give a single shit as to what happened to his tormentors. He just did not want to die at the moment.

----

Interior Agent Dari'ava was not happy. The favors her noble-ish family had to spare for their children had been mostly spent to send her sister Lana'drika to the Aviary. 

So when it was Dari's turn, there wasn't much left. Just enough for a decent Interior Agent position after a shortish recruit phase. Not at all enough to choose her posting.

So now, she was freezing her tits in the coldest country of the “pipe-bomb” planet. (Never call it the sex planet, it’s a fucking lie! She had gotten laid a grand total of 0 times!)

This city sucked. The admin black hole sucked. The fucking weird-ass French dialect nobody told her to learn before being right in the middle of it sucked. And. The. Cold.

Also she was late to a meeting with her superior.

She quickly went from angry and frustrated to flabbergasted when the trash container she rushed by started screaming in said French dialect she had struggled for three years to learn.

“[Heeeeelp!]”

(Author note: dialogue in [] are in French Canadian, while passages in <> are in Vatrike)

After the surprise of the screaming trash container, Dari was now looking down at a young, couldn't be older than 8 (Imperial) years old, male human teenager who had appeared to have lodged himself in said container.

The rather minuscule redhead, wearing a shoddy gray and blue jacket, green fingerless gloves and a wool beanie, had thankfully switched to Vatikre when he had noticed she was Shil.

Less thankfully, his Vatikre was weird. It wasn’t actually trade Shil, the kid spoke in the overly theatrical High Shil that “historic” shows liked to use despite the fact that nobody ever talked like this. Complete with a French accent and the kid went from “easily understandable” to “please slow down I think you mispronounced that”.

“<Salutation! May thou provide me with thine assistance?>”

Welp, when in doubt, switch to professional speech.

“<Certainly citizen! What kind of assistance do you require?>”

“<Mine predicament is dire indeed. For I am imprisoned alone of this lonely box! I require thine help upon of which I may make mine departure of mine temporary abode.>”

“<You want help getting out of there?>”

“<Yes!>”

Helping this diminutive kid appeared to be the obvious choice, but Dari's training immediately stilled her hand. This was the ideal setup for an ambush. Standard procedure would have been to call backup, and wait for Marines to show up and open the damn box.

But there is no way in the deep that Dari was letting a tiny male to remain in such confined spaces for 15 more minutes.

Also she was late for her meeting.

Therefore she bent herself through the container's entrance and extended her arms so that the small human could grab her hand. After a bit of shuffling and tugging, Dari was now the proud carrier of a pint sized male. 

It had not been an ambush after all, she would live another day.

“<I have questions, many of them.>” Then her training kicked in again, telling her that a human that was deathly pale, shivering and incredibly cold to the touch was a dying human.

Thus, she made the executive decision to not drop said halfling and instead to princess-carry him to the nearest station. 

“<Wait? What is it that thou art acting like? Unhand me ruffian! Thou art most impolite!>”

The stink he was making  was attracting quite a few stares, but nothing that couldn't be stopped by the glare of an Agent of Her Majesty's Interior.

Dari was already developing a headache. Her professional mask did not survive it.

“<I am trying to help you kid! Shut the fuck up for a second! I am bringing you to a warm place!>”

The promise of warmth and proverbial violence did it and the rest of the admittedly short distance to the station was done in blessed silence.

Empress above, she really looked like a boy-basher.

(Author note: the grammar errors in Lexi's Vatikre are entirely intentional. Lexi's grasp of the language is not perfect in the slightest.)

Character Wiki

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“Silence becomes a kind of crime when it operates as a cover or an encouragement to the guilty.” - Thomas Paine

~

“How many?” was the singular question Lieutenant General Mar’tic had for her aide in the morning. She had asked the exact same question both last year and the year before, but she had secretly been hoping that it wouldn’t be necessary this year. Unfortunately, it seemed like Governor N’taaris had decided otherwise. At least this year she had gotten to sleep through the whole night without being woken up for some emergency or another. 

“Two.”

Mar’tic nearly did a double take. “Two!?”

“Yep. One in Philadelphia, and one in Scranton. A decent number more injured, but only two casualties,” the aide reported, sounding almost cheerful.

“Only two casualties on the Fourth? Seriously?” Mar’tic said. “What, did Krek take the day off or something?”

“Judging by non-marine casualties, he did not. It’s just that our new deployment scheme worked to minimize fatal encounters.”

“That’s good. But how many non-marine casualties were there?”

“At present, 51 civilians and 11 militiawomen.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Mar’tic paused for a moment, sighing. “There goes any chance of convincing my colleagues, never mind that I have no control over what the Governor is doing.”

“He’s certainly not been endearing himself to the people. Neither has the expanded militia force that I briefed you about the other day.”

“The ones with exos?” Mar’tic asked. She had been slightly annoyed that Lord N’taaris had not bothered to inform her of their existence himself, and therefore that she had first learned about them from her intelligence gals.

“Yes. One particular incident from Philadelphia appears to be becoming the big news story for today…”

That wasn’t good. For something to be the big news story the day after the Fourth of July, it would have to beat out all the other highly sensational headlines about the death and destruction across North America.

“What seems to have happened is that six people were crushed to death when a militia exo stepped on them.”

“Goddess, that’s a brutal way to go,” Mar’tic commented. She thought for a second. “Are we absolutely sure the pilot wasn’t one of ours?”

They simply could not afford that sort of reputation if they were trying to fix their relationship with the local populace, so Mar’tic just had to be certain.

“Yes. No marine exo-suits were deployed to Philadelphia at the time it occurred, I double-checked. A purported video of the exo showed that it was an older Ha’gosha Corp model which we do not possess, but which we previously confirmed were present in the militia exos which arrived recently. Of course, I was unable to verify that this video was indeed related to the incident before it got removed by the censors.”

“And I presume you’ve sent them a request for access to the original file for intelligence purposes?” Mar’tic asked. Her aide had done all this before, but it didn’t hurt to double-check.

“Yep. I used your credentials.”

“Good.” Technically, her aide wasn’t supposed to have full access to her personal credentials, but she trusted the woman, and it made things like this so much faster.

“There is one more thing worth mentioning, though,” her aide said..

“What is it?” Mar’tic asked, curious.

“New York managed zero fatalities, Marine or otherwise.”

“What, really?” Maybe her work wasn’t for nothing after all. If General Shi’taari had also seen success after adopting a less proactive approach, maybe that would actually help convince people she was right. Of course, there were also Lady Pol’ra’s actions to consider, but it was obvious that her own ideas were playing a part. Or rather, her and Alice’s ideas. Mar’tic and the old governess-regent had initially come up with them together, after all.

“There were fatal vehicle accidents and a number of incidents involving pyrotechnics, but they seemed to mostly be the fault of excessive alcohol consumption, completely unrelated to Imperial forces. There also appeared to be a lot of hooliganism, often resulting in property damage.”

Okay, that was less good. But it was still a step in the right direction!

“I mean, that’s still unbelievable. We can definitely call that a success. Or, General Shi’taari can call it her success if she wants to. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about being celebrated for it. I just want it to work.”

“You’ll never get a medal with that attitude, ma’am.”

“Of course not! I’ve been in command of Pennsylvania this whole time. Why in the galaxy would I get a medal for fixing a mess that’s my own damn fault?”

“They could give you one normal medal and one anti-medal made out of anti-matter to cancel it out,” her aide joked.

“I think that would end up canceling out a lot more than my positive medal. Like, that would cancel out the whole planet,” Mar’tic said. “But seriously, how many thousands of people died because I was too blind and stubborn to comprehend the problem? How many mothers and daughters… and fathers and sons… didn’t return home because I couldn’t imagine anything else? Anything better? No, there is no medal I have earned on Earth, no glory I have won. And at this point, that’s fine by me.”

~~~~~~

As her alarm went off, Rodah groaned and pulled herself out of bed, shutting it off with all the appropriate grace, which was absolutely none. She went about her morning routine like an automaton, until halfway through brushing her teeth, the memory of what had happened yesterday hit her like a slap in the face. Fuck. She had listened to the Declaration of Independence, joined a Goddess-damned protest against her own governor, and seen people die horribly. 

She shook her head, trying to keep her mind from focusing on the horrifyingly  vivid memory of the blood dripping from that exo as she prepared for the day. Today was supposed to be a normal day of work, as if she could just go back to that like nothing had happened. But that was what she was going to have to do, wasn’t it? If she didn’t want to suffer the consequences, that was.

Consequences like getting fired, getting arrested, or maybe even disappeared to some secret Interior blacksite. Even just losing her job could be catastrophic, because it would likely be very difficult to find other employment, not to mention safe housing. Depths, she would probably be blacklisted entirely from government work if her actions became public.

So really, there was no choice.

~~~~~~

“It is not policing to murder people who are just trying to get their voices heard,” Frank said, his voice rising.

“I know what you mean, but my command only stretches as far as the city limits,” Chief Ne’panna replied calmly. “I cannot punish those responsible.”

Although Dmitry felt just as strongly as Frank did, he also understood that Chief Ne’panna lacked the power that would be necessary to act on their complaints. He also realized that Frank had started this conversation somewhere everyone else could hear on purpose.

“I know that you have no official jurisdiction over any of those QRF bitches. But I am asking you to pass our complaints up the chain, to your superior, and to their superiors. Especially considering how you didn’t even ask for them to show up at our station. We were doing fine and in no danger when they arrived yesterday. Our work wasn’t even being disrupted, unless you count the noise making it more difficult to focus.”

“Command makes decisions based on more information than we have here. If there was a worrying pattern developing, they might have… overreacted.”

“Worrying pattern!” E’nara interjected. “The only pattern I’m worrying about is how many people were hurt everywhere the QRF showed up! Command isn’t the Empress! They can be stupid sometimes, and we need to let them know when they are being stupid!”

Chief Ne’panna stayed quiet for a couple seconds as she contemplated what E’nara had just said. Dmitry thought she was a little impressed at how the normally unserious woman had spoken out so firmly. Hell, he was kind of impressed too. 

“If you’re not willing to say it, I found a petition that an officer from Philadelphia started,” Henry chimed in. “I was kind of hesitant to sign it myself because I’m only an officer trainee, but it seems like a good way to send a message.”

“How do I sign it?” E’nara asked.

“It’s online. I’ll send you the link.”

“Send it to me too,” Frank said.

“Me three,” Dmitry said.

“And me,” Rose piped up.

“Also me,” Fe’ham commented, popping out of the bathroom. 

“I know I am very outnumbered here, but I don’t think I can join you all on this,” Chief Ne’panna said. “I’m not saying you gals are wrong, but I can’t risk it.”

“Coward,” Rose muttered over her breath, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Chief Ne’panna wisely decided to ignore her. “I’m not going to try and stop you doing this. If there’s retaliation, I’ll do what I can, but… you know.”

“I suppose we can’t really expect any more from you,” Frank said. “To be honest, I’m glad you’re being very reasonable about all this. Some women in your position would be doing much worse, and probably already are.”

“Thanks,” Ne’panna said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got business to attend to.”

“Of course.”

After she left, Dmitry looked around the room. Frank met his gaze, and they shared a knowing look.

“So what are we all agreeing to again?” Fe’ham asked, ruining the moment.

Dmitry sighed and shook his head. That girl had no common sense.

“That we’re going to sign a petition against the militia officers that were killing people yesterday,” Henry said.

“Oh. Yeah, killing people is bad, and they should stop doing that. Especially when they do it by stepping on them,” Fe’ham said. “I’ll gladly sign something saying that.”

At least her heart was in the right spot. 

~~~~~~

“Lord N’taaris has just informed me that he would like to make an announcement about yesterday’s unrest this afternoon,” Te’dol said. “I trust that you can arrange that on your own? I don’t know if I’ll have time to review the plan before it needs to get going.”

“I can,” Rodah said, tamping down her emotions in order to answer in a flat tone.

She was glad that Te’dol had finally stopped trying to apologize to her, as it had been getting annoying. It was also good that he was starting to let her do things on her own.

Dol’ea had sent her a message earlier saying that Xeren had actually talked with him yesterday, and had thought his regret was genuine. Apparently, he had even asked Xeren about how he could make amends. That was certainly a start. Maybe she would be able to forgive him, after all.

~~~~~~

“What’s your read on the situation, Cor’ala?” Lady Pol’ra said. “I would personally consider zero fatalities a remarkable success, but is that just a biased metric?”

Those were the words the Governess of New York had said. What she had asked was if the Interior approved of her actions. Personally, Gy’toris also saw zero deaths as a success, but she decided to give a more detached analysis, in line with what Director Vi’kari usually demanded from her:

“There are obviously costs associated with loosening enforcement standards and the notable increase in property damage, but in the context of the numbers elsewhere, a complete elimination of conflict fatalities represents a significant step towards achieving order. It also reduces support and recruitment rates for anti-Imperial groups, which can have a compounding effect. By these metrics, I imagine that most would indeed consider it a success.”

“Right,” she nodded. “And what do you think about it?”

Gy’toris gave a small sigh. Of course Lady Pol’ra was continuing to try to build a personal relationship with her. In hindsight, this was an obvious reason as to why she would want to keep Agent Gy’toris in her nominal employment even after learning she was Interior: in order to get the chance to create a special relationship with her.

Following Vi’kari’s example, Gy’toris had so far done her best to eschew these sorts of interactions, or at the very least, to never be the one doing favors for others. The big question, then, was when and how Lady Pol’ra might attempt to leverage this arrangement for her own benefit.

“I think that no deaths is pretty good. However, it’s not yet clear whether this will be a long-term trend, which is what is actually important. Additionally, since the closest comparable attempt at this—Pennsylvania—is already over after only a month, trying to make projections now feels like guessing on top of other guesses. In other words, I’m not entirely sure, and I’m waiting to see where this goes.”

“A sensible, but cautious answer,” Jai’do said. He and De’lelle—Lady Pol’ra’s other aides—were also there, but had been staying quiet as Gy’toris had answered the questions directed specifically at her.

“Thanks for being honest. I always appreciate what you have to say on a topic, Cor’ala.”

“Flattery won’t get you special treatment, Daya.”

“I was being genuine. Besides, like I enumerated the other day, I get plenty out of this arrangement as is.”

 While the other two aides weren’t technically in on the arrangement Gy’toris had made with Lady Pol’ra, they basically knew all the details already.

“Sure,” Gy’toris responded. “That said, is there anything else you wanted to talk about at the moment?”

“Yeah. What do you gals think about openly opposing Lord N’taaris? With his latest moves against the Council, and with his militia appearing so negatively in the news, I think we have enough grounds to issue a proper denunciation.”

“What about COMP?” De’lelle asked. “We were pushing that strongly as a co-sponsor alongside Pennsylvania. Do we want to jeopardize that arrangement?”

“The first step would ideally be to confer with our colleagues and fellow COMP members.” Lady Pol’ra clarified. “I’m sure many of them would be willing to agree that this new Pennsylvania is not the same Pennsylvania we negotiated that agreement with. Besides, if yesterday’s events aren’t just a fluke, the unrest there could cause actual problems with the open borders, ironically in the same manner those bitches in Connecticut and Vermont were falsely complaining about.”

“Even if you were to be successful in cutting Pennsylvania out of COMP, would that even be a victory?” Gy’toris asked. “It is one of the biggest counties involved in the project, and only New York and Ontario have comparable economies and populations within the group. Excluding it would be a major setback for COMP.”

“Continuing to include them would be worse,” Jai’do countered. “Wasn’t the reason you and Alice made COMP in order to move forward? Lord N’taaris is not a forward-thinking governor. In fact, I would say that he is very much the opposite, and not doing anything about the behaviour of his militia would result in a crippled, divided, and dysfunctional COMP.” 

“What sort of message would kicking out a founding member—no, the founding member—send to any governesses thinking of joining the COMP agreement?” De’lelle asked.

“It would make sure they know we actually stand for something,” Jai’do declared.

“What COMP stands for is already clearly printed on the piece of paper that created it,” Dellele said. “The treaty is explicitly an agreement to lower tariffs and trade barriers between signatories. It is not a political alliance, nor an agreement about Advisory Councils. Even if there are plenty of connotations hanging around it, the women who signed up aren’t going to want to act if there is no benefit or previously-agreed-upon obligation.”

“Ideally, the benefit would be greater support from their [citizens],” Lady Pol’ra said. “It can be dangerous to assume what humans want, but in this situation I feel pretty confident that their opinion is well on our side.”

“Even if that is a convincing argument for some,” De’llele said. “Doing something like that would change COMP forever. It would no longer be just an economic thing, and people would no longer be willing to join it based purely off of those merits.”

“It was never just the economic merits of the agreement to begin with,” Jai’do said. “Lady Pi’nara and Lady Av’eria walked out with the supposed justification being the fact that there was an English translation. Lady F’taari had Lady Pu’peta throw a fit just because she wasn’t invited personally. Many more probably didn’t even consider showing up because it was originally Alice’s idea, and not from someone quote-unquote more respectable.”

“As far as I could tell, Alice thought that COMP was just the beginning,” Lady Pol’ra said. “Or, at least, she saw it as something that could be expanded on in the future. I plan to expand on it, and this is a good opportunity. Lord N’taaris doesn’t look like a reliable partner at the moment, and nobody’s come out and condemned me yet for declaring a council.”

“Nobody’s criticized you yet because it’s only been a day,” Gy’toris commented. “Judging from how well the Interior’s ‘recommendation’ went over, there will definitely be criticism.”

“Oh, I expect no less than the most severe denunciations, fearmongering about ‘letting the insurgents win,’ and maybe even some genuine points mixed in with horridly primitivist statements. But if we’re doing things, and they aren’t, that means that we’ll have the initiative,” Lady Pol’ra said.

“And they’ll be the ‘reactive force,’ we get it. Once a marine, always a marine,” De’lelle said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, like I always say, it’s a bit late for me to change now,” Lady Pol’ra said.

“Do you want me to start arranging that meeting?” Jai’do asked.”With COMP?”

“Yes. See who’s available tomorrow,” Lady Pol’ra said.

“Tomorrow!? That’s very short notice!”

“Exactly,” Lady Pol’ra said, as if that was the point. “We shall see who among them cares enough to make time for it. That being said, if either Sel’yona or Lady Ju’vera can’t make tomorrow, we’ll have to meet the day after, or figure something else out.” 

Gy’toris saw what she was trying to do. If only the people who were already more sympathetic to Lady Pol’ra’s position showed up, they could make a unanimous decision among themselves and then present it to the rest of COMP as a fait accompli. Of course, that would only work if the other big players were with them, so they still needed Lady T’varo and Lady Ju’vera.

“Got it,” Jai’do said. “What should I tell them as to the reason for meeting?”

“Recent events. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Okay. Sending the message now.”

~~~~~~

It only took Agent Noril a few minutes to pack up all of his stuff. Long years in the Interior had drilled that into him, among other odd habits, like scanning people’s waists for concealed holsters, or making sure he always knew where the nearest exit was. It also helped that he hadn’t brought too much with him to Gehundil in the first place.

All in all, he thought that his trip here had been rather successful, and he hoped that Senior Agent Gy’toris would agree with that assessment once he made his official report to her. To start with, he had succeeded in his main purpose, which was ensuring that the younger Twis’ke and her accomplice, Car’a, were caught. Not only had they been caught, but they had already been sentenced, in what was probably record time for a trial involving not just a noble heiress, but also her titled mother, and a Senior Interior Agent on top of that. 

Admittedly, that had only been possible because of Esteemed Lady Tenn’uo’s interesting mindset, but that was a price that was probably worth paying in this case. Her verdicts had been remarkably harsh, which would hopefully act as a deterrent against anyone else in the sector attempting something similar.

Besides that, he had also managed to look into Cor’nol N’taaris, and figured out that he had hired a bunch of violent criminals to work for him, had his kho-sister beaten half to death, and had gotten a bunch of money from somewhere. Zessa had said that she would look into it, but Noril wasn’t expecting anything quick or easy down that path. In fact, he would be very thankful if she managed to give him anything at all that was useful.

Then there was also the news about the “Border Security Operation” that had been declared against the Alliance. That wasn’t exactly a result of his trip here, but he would be following that news on its way to Earth by only a few days, which meant that everyone there would still be adjusting to that new reality. Hopefully, the conflict didn’t exacerbate the unrest that was already present on Earth.

But on a more personal note, the part that Noril had enjoyed the most was making new friends. Both Thekla and Zessa were people he wanted to keep talking to in the future, and that was definitely something to be valued. The galaxy was large, and good friends could be hard to find.

He was even considering visiting Gehundil again once he retired. It was a beautiful planet, and on his long walk, he had begun to appreciate the natural beauty of the arid windswept valleys and plateaus. Of course, he wasn’t exactly keen on going so far as to recreate his three-day excursion into the remote wilderness, but shorter walks would certainly be nice. Maybe he should see if there were any similar arid areas on Earth that he could visit?

~~~~~~

“Is it time for a revolution yet? I think it’s time for a revolution,” Benjamin Gomez declared, with very little preamble.

“Easier said than done,” Kate Anderson countered. “They have exos now.”

“Aren’t you working on that special railgun or whatever? How’s that coming along?” Ben asked.

“Coilgun. And it’s not nearly ready to use in the field. I shouldn’t be talking about this with you guys since you’re not in on it yet, but–”

“Then don’t talk about it with us,” Nazero said. “Simple as.”

“Ugh, you guys already know it exists. Heck, I ran the very first sketches by you guys, remember?”

“What sketches?” Jen O’Malley pantomimed. 

“Very funny. Anyways, we’re still waiting on some of the more technologically advanced parts to arrive,” Kate continued. “Apparently, you can order alien super-caps off McMaster-Carr now, but it takes aeons to arrive because they have to ship it in from out of system?”

“Whack,” Ben said. “I mean, Amazon does off-world now too, but the mark-ups are insane. My mom wanted to see if she could get some exotic ingredients to try out, but at those prices? No way.”

“Hey Naz, if you and your mom go back to visit your family anytime soon, maybe you could bring some stuff back with you?” Jen suggested.

“Sure, but I don’t know when we’re going to visit again. We just went a couple months ago for mom and dad’s anniversary, and I don’t think either of us is particularly eager to go through all that hassle again soon.”

“Oh?” Jen asked, essentially requesting that Nazero elaborate on the point.

“You know, it’s a full week each way, the best quarters we can afford are pretty cramped, especially on the way back, and honestly, every time it feels less and less like home,” he explained.

“You’ve gotten too used to Earth?” Jen asked.

“Yeah, basically. Did I tell you about how I had a fight with my kho-moms about going out alone?”

“No, did they not want you to? I heard that’s a common thing in the Imperium, that you always have to have your mothers or sisters with you or something.”

“It’s common for men to have to do that everywhere except here,” Nazero said. “But it’s so freeing not having to worry about a kho-mom or sister looking over your shoulder the whole time! Damn misandry. I get their point about safety, but I have a stun baton, and I know how to use it. I mean, I literally knocked out a geared up Marine with it!”

“That’s true, but you very much caught her off guard then. What if she had actually been suspicious of you, or if you had been the one being ambushed? And what if two people attacked you at once?” Kate asked. “Do you think you could win then?”

“Not you too!” Nazero said, jokingly punching her in the shoulder. He leaned over towards Ben before declaring in a low voice: “Women.”

“I heard that!”

Deep down, he knew Kate’s criticism came from a place of genuine concern, just like his mothers, but it still annoyed him nevertheless.

“Okay, fight all you want, but what about what Ben was saying earlier?” Jen asked. “You know, about a revolution.”

“I was saying that now that the governor’s true face has been exposed, there’s really no argument left in his favor anymore. I mean, have any of you seen the video?”

“I did,” Jen said. 

“What video?” Kate said.

“If you have to ask, you haven't seen it. I don’t actually want to describe it in detail, but there’s a video of several people dying after a militia exo stepped on them. It’s not pretty,” Ben explained

“Oh fuck,” Nazero said, as his mind attempted to betray his stomach by conjuring up the most gruesome scene it could of someone getting crushed to death by an exo.

“Damn, that’s messed up,” Kate said, disgust clearly visible on her face.

“Yeah. I won’t go into further detail, but it’s being repeatedly uploaded to the internet and then being taken down again almost instantly. The censors really don’t want anyone seeing it.”

“I can understand why. Hell, if it wasn’t an issue of political censorship, I wouldn’t advocate that anyone even watch the thing to begin with,” Jen said. “I saw it this morning, and it took until noon for me to get my appetite back.”

“Yikes,” Nazero said. “Well, I’m perfectly fine taking your word for it. When do we get to shoot the governor already?”

“That’s exactly what I was saying,” Ben said. “Surely this will cause people to wake up, and realize that we need to take action if we want Alice back.”

“You’d think. But I think everyone that was going to hate him already does, and everyone who loves him will continue to do so,” Kate said. “Even shit like this can’t convince the Imperium they’re in the wrong.”

“I don’t know. This might convince some people,” Nazero said. “It stands out, it’s shocking, and if any of the victims were men… there’s an element of misandry that can sometimes be useful, in that it lets you better seem like an innocent, helpless victim.”

“Plus, the Imperium’s not a monolith,” Jen added. “Lady Pol’ra breaking with the party line is a good example of that.”

“Yeah, and even if Pennsylvania is going completely to shit, we can at least gain a little bit of comfort from the fact that New York is apparently doing alright,” Nazero said. “I even saw an article commenting on the fact that there were no stories about people dying in New York. I don’t know if that means no one actually died, but it sounds like it.”

“Good for them,” Ben said. “I just wish we could go back to that.”

“Same,” everyone else said in unison.

~

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First / Previous / Next

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Felix had been standing outside for maybe ten minutes when he began wondering if this had been a really stupid idea.

Not joining the Interior. That ship had sailed, hit an iceberg, exploded, and somehow caught fire underwater months ago.

No.

The stupid idea currently occupying his mind was agreeing to get inside a random vehicle with people who, as far as they knew, had every reason to put a bullet through his skull if they discovered who he actually was.

Morning had barely settled over Helena. The sun was somewhere behind a thick ceiling of gray clouds, leaving the street washed in that pale blue light that made everything look colder than it already was. Felix could see his breath every time he exhaled. His hands remained buried inside the pockets of his jacket, one flesh and one metal, though beneath the fabric there was no visible difference.

The Lynx was still closed behind him.

Across the street a traffic light changed for nobody.

His pocket watch read 7:28.

Two minutes.

Felix snapped it shut.

Two minutes was a lot of time when you were waiting for strangers involved in an insurgency to come pick you up.

He shifted his weight.

His prosthetic arm gave a soft vibration against his side.

One of the spiders.

A quiet reminder that despite how alone he felt standing there, Mos'ralyt had made sure he was never completely alone.

Observe.

Listen.

Do not expose yourself unless necessary.

Simple instructions.

Extremely simple.

Which meant something was probably going to go catastrophically wrong.

7:29.

A pickup truck turned onto the street.

Felix watched it approach.

Gray.

Older model.

Nothing remarkable about it, which immediately made him suspicious.

It wasn't the same vehicle that had taken him to the church.

The truck rolled closer, tires hissing softly against damp asphalt before stopping directly in front of him.

The passenger window descended.

A man sat behind the wheel.

Late forties, Felix guessed. Thick brown beard with enough gray in it to show he had survived more than a few bad years. Maroon baseball cap. Canvas work jacket. Hands that looked permanently dirty no matter how much soap you threw at them.

The man stared at Felix.

Felix stared back.

"You Torres?"

"Depends who's asking."

No smile.

Good start.

"You coming or not?"

Felix looked at the truck.

Then at the man.

Then farther down the street.

Well.

If they planned on killing him, refusing to get in probably wasn't going to improve the situation.

"Sure."

He opened the door and climbed inside.

The first thing Felix noticed was the smell.

Coffee. Cigarettes. Gun oil. Old upholstery.

And something underneath all of it he couldn't immediately identify.

The second thing he noticed was the rifle mounted behind the driver's seat.

The third was the handgun wedged between the seat and the center console.

The fourth was that the inside handle of his passenger door had been removed.

Felix looked at the small rectangular hole where the handle should have been.

...

That's comforting.

He pulled the door shut and buckled his seatbelt.

The driver pulled away without saying a word.

For the first minute there was nothing except the low rumbling of the engine and the heater blowing warm air against Felix's legs.

Buildings drifted past.

Then smaller buildings.

Then houses.

Then fewer houses.

Felix watched the scenery through the window while trying to memorize every turn without making it obvious that he was memorizing every turn.

Right.

Straight.

Bridge.

Left.

Long stretch.

Another right.

They were leaving Helena. Not merely leaving the center of town either. They were properly leaving.

"So."

The driver's voice broke the silence.

"So?" Felix answered.

"How long you been here?"

"In the truck?"

The driver glanced at him.

Felix checked the dashboard.

"About eight minutes."

The man stared for another second.

Felix shrugged.

"You asked."

Something almost resembling amusement pulled at one side of the man's mouth.

Almost.

"In Montana."

"Couple weeks."

"Why Montana?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

"Neither was the question."

The man's fingers tightened around the wheel.

Felix could practically hear Mos'ralyt's voice.

Stop being difficult.

Though she would probably phrase it in some unnecessarily elegant way.

Cease antagonizing potentially useful contacts.

Something like that.

The driver remained quiet.

Then:

"Roger says you're from down south."

"Texas."

"Born there?"

"No."

"Where?"

"Venezuela."

"What part?"

Too fast.

The questions weren't casual.

Felix felt his attention sharpen.

"Maracay."

"What school?"

There it was.

Felix's mind ran through the profile.

Not his life.

Felix Torres's life.

Addresses.

Schools.

Teachers.

Dates.

Hospitals.

Jobs.

A dead father named Guillermo.

A dead mother named Claudia.

A dead sister named Cecilia.

That last one had always bothered him.

Mos'ralyt hadn't even changed the name.

Maybe because grief was easier to fake when it wasn't fake.

Felix gave the school.

The driver nodded.

No reaction.

"Your parents?"

"Dead."

"How?"

"Marines."

"Where?"

"East coast."

"Where on the east coast?"

Felix turned his head.

"Is this supposed to be a conversation or did I accidentally walk into a job interview?"

"Answer the question."

The warmth left the cab.

Not physically.

The heater was still blowing.

But Felix felt it anyway.

"Charlotte."

The driver glanced over.

"Thought you were from Texas."

"I was."

"So what were you doing in Charlotte?"

"Visiting family."

"They still alive?"

"No."

"Convenient."

Felix stared at him.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

The driver shrugged.

"Nobody left to confirm your story."

There was a beat.

Felix felt his pulse in his throat.

Was he suspicious?

Of course he was suspicious.

These people lived under occupation while fighting an empire with surveillance technology decades, probably centuries, ahead of anything humanity had before the invasion.

Paranoia wasn't exactly irrational under the circumstances.

Felix leaned against the passenger door.

"Well sorry my family's dead. Next time I'll ask them to schedule it around your background check."

The driver looked at him again.

There.

That was what he was watching.

Not the answers.

The reaction.

Anger.

Hesitation.

Timing.

The way Felix breathed.

The way his eyes moved.

This wasn't a conversation.

This wasn't even really an interrogation.

It was a pressure test.

Felix turned toward him.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's your name?"

No answer.

"Where are you from?"

Nothing.

"Parents?"

The driver's jaw tightened slightly.

"Dead?"

"Shut up."

Felix faced forward again.

"Just making conversation."

The road narrowed.

Pine trees rose on either side, thick enough now that Felix could barely see beyond them. Snow still clung in thin dirty patches beneath some of the shaded areas.

Civilization had disappeared.

Felix didn't particularly dislike forests.

He did dislike the thought that if these people killed him out here, nobody would stumble across his body until some hunter went looking for an elk three years from now.

"You ever work for the purps?"

Felix looked over.

"No."

"Ever take their money?"

"Everybody takes their money."

"You know what I mean."

"I've used government benefits. I've been treated in Imperial hospitals. I buy things with Imperial credits. If that counts, then congratulations, you caught me."

"You ever work directly for them?"

"No."

"Militia?"

"No."

"Interior?"

Felix's heart missed one beat.

Maybe two.

Nothing reached his face.

"No."

The driver's eyes moved toward him.

Felix met them.

Neither spoke.

For a disturbingly long moment the truck traveled down the empty mountain road while the driver paid considerably less attention to the road than Felix would've preferred.

Finally he looked forward.

"You know what the Interior does?"

"Same thing every secret police organization does."

"Which is?"

"Make everybody paranoid enough that two strangers can't sit in a truck without interrogating each other."

The driver snorted.

Felix allowed himself the smallest smile.

"You're funny."

"I've been told."

"Roger likes you."

"He's nice."

"Jack doesn't trust you."

Felix's smile died.

Fuck.

"Jack doesn't strike me as somebody who trusts anyone."

"Smart man."

"I agree."

"So why should he trust you?"

Felix thought for a moment.

Not too long.

Just long enough.

"He shouldn't."

That seemed to surprise him.

"He doesn't know me. You don't know me. I don't know either of you. If I was sitting where you're sitting, I'd think I was a fed too."

"Imperial."

"Whatever."

"And if you were us?"

"I'd be doing exactly what you're doing."

The driver watched him.

Felix added:

"Maybe with less dramatic silence."

Nothing.

Worth trying.

Felix returned his attention to the road.

That was when he noticed the wires.

At first they didn't stand out.

Old truck.

Old dashboard.

Repairs stacked on repairs.

It wasn't unusual to see aftermarket wiring in something like this.

But the bundle underneath the glove compartment didn't follow any original harness Felix recognized.

His eyes tracked it.

Carefully.

Without moving his head.

The cable disappeared beneath the center console.

Another section ran under the carpet.

Toward the rear bench.

Felix's eyes narrowed.

There were two dull metal boxes mounted beneath the back seat.

No markings.

Bolted down.

He noticed another line continuing farther back.

Fuel tank, probably.

Then one running toward the engine bay.

Felix's attention drifted toward the driver's side.

Beneath the steering column was a covered toggle switch.

Heavy cover.

Red underneath.

Felix stared at it for half a second.

Then forward.

Then back.

He finally identified the faint smell he'd noticed when he got inside.

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

Felix slowly turned toward the driver.

Then back toward the windshield.

You're fucking kidding me.

The driver noticed.

"What?"

Felix looked toward the floor.

"That's not factory."

"What isn't?"

Felix pointed subtly.

"You know exactly what."

The driver said nothing.

Felix looked behind him again.

The boxes.

The wires.

The switch.

His stomach sank.

"You rigged this thing."

The driver took another sip of coffee.

"Rigged how?"

"Don't insult me."

Silence.

Felix lowered his voice.

"This truck is wired to explode."

The driver's expression did not change.

That was significantly worse than any answer he could have given.

Felix stared.

"Jesus Christ."

"Problem?"

"Problem?"

Felix almost laughed.

"I am sitting inside a truck that has been turned into a bomb and you're asking me if there is a problem?"

"Keep your voice down."

"There's nobody around."

"Then why are you yelling?"

Felix opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

...

Fair.

Still insane.

He slowly leaned back into the seat.

"So what's the plan?"

"What plan?"

"Don't do that."

The driver drank again.

Felix gestured toward the rear.

"That."

The trees moved past outside.

The driver eventually sighed.

"If we get stopped, we get stopped."

"And?"

"If it's militia, we talk."

"And if talking doesn't work?"

"We run."

"And if running doesn't work?"

The driver's eyes stayed on the road.

Felix already knew the answer.

"They don't take us."

The words sat in the cab.

Felix looked toward the back seat.

"They don't take the truck."

"No."

"Or anything inside."

"No."

"Including us."

The driver glanced at him.

"You catching up?"

Felix slowly nodded.

"Yeah."

He looked at the seatbelt across his chest.

For the first time in his life, Felix wondered if wearing one actually made his situation worse.

His heart was beating faster now.

The prosthetic hand resting against his leg suddenly felt very small.

There was a gun built into it.

Blade.

Surveillance devices.

Alien technology worth more than everything he had ever owned combined.

Didn't mean shit.

If that switch got pressed, there probably wouldn't be enough Felix left for Mos'ralyt to be angry at.

Oddly enough, understanding that calmed him slightly.

Fear was easier when it had a shape.

A switch.

A wire.

A driver.

Those were things Felix understood.

"So."

Felix swallowed.

"Does this thing at least have airbags?"

The driver looked over.

Felix shrugged.

"Just wondering."

The man shook his head.

"Roger said you were strange."

"He talks about me?"

"Unfortunately."

Felix almost smiled.

Then the truck rounded a bend.

His smile disappeared.

Checkpoint.

Two militia vehicles.

Portable barriers.

Four Shil'vati.

Armed.

Felix felt his stomach drop.

The driver saw them half a second later.

The truck slowed.

Nobody spoke.

One of the militiawomen raised her hand.

The pickup stopped.

Felix heard his own heartbeat.

The driver's right hand came away from the steering wheel.

Slowly.

Felix watched it descend.

Toward his leg.

Toward the switch.

No.

No no no no.

A militiawoman approached the driver's side and knocked twice on the window.

The driver rolled it down.

"Morning."

"Morning officer."

"Where are you headed?"

"Friend's place."

"Where?"

The driver gave the name of some town Felix hadn't heard of.

The militiawoman leaned forward.

Her eyes settled on Felix.

Felix gave the smallest polite wave.

Please don't scan me.

"Identification."

The driver reached slowly for his wallet.

Felix did the same.

His flesh hand felt stiff.

The woman took both IDs.

Then walked back toward the patrol vehicle.

Felix watched through the side mirror.

"What happens if they scan us?" he whispered.

"Shut up."

"What happens?"

"Shut. Up."

The driver's thumb rested dangerously close to the switch cover.

Felix stopped breathing.

One militiawoman typed something into a pad.

Another looked toward the truck.

Thirty seconds.

One minute.

Then another.

Felix's mind ran through options.

Attack the driver.

Grab the switch.

Get out of the truck.

Shoot somebody.

None ended well.

The driver was sweating now.

Not much.

Just one line running from his temple into his beard.

Good.

At least Felix wasn't sharing a truck with someone completely suicidal.

The militiawoman returned.

Every muscle in Felix's body tightened.

She handed the IDs through the window.

"Road's clear. We've had some activity farther west, so stay on the main roads if you can."

"Will do."

"Have a safe trip."

The barrier opened.

The truck rolled forward.

Felix watched the checkpoint disappear behind them.

Only then did he exhale.

"Holy fuck."

The driver started laughing. Not smiling. Laughing.

Felix stared at him. "You think that's funny?"

"A little," Mason chuckled.

"You were two seconds from turning both of us into a weather event," Felix said hysterically.

That only made him laugh harder.

Felix shook his head "You're fucking insane."

"Maybe," he chuckled.

"Definitely," Felix huffed.

For another few miles there was silence.

But it was different now. Something had changed.

Not trust. Definitely not trust.

But some invisible wall had cracked.

Maybe surviving the possibility of simultaneous vaporization counted as bonding.

The driver took one hand off the wheel and held it toward Felix.

"Mason."

Felix looked at it, then shook.

"Felix."

"I know."

"Right."

Mason returned his hand to the wheel.

"Mechanical engineer?"

"Yeah."

"Any good?"

"I graduated."

"That wasn't the question."

Felix shrugged.

"I'm good enough to recognize when some lunatic turns a Ford into a suicide note."

Mason nodded.

"Good enough."

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The meeting place wasn't a church.

Or a basement.

Or anything that looked like a headquarters.

It was an abandoned logging property buried so deep into the mountains Felix doubted Google Maps had ever bothered learning it existed.

The road deteriorated into gravel several miles before they arrived.

The truck bounced through potholes and mud, pine branches reaching overhead and blocking most of the pale sky.

Then the trees opened.

Two weathered wooden buildings sat beside the remains of an old mill. Rusted equipment stood scattered through the property like skeletons. A conveyor belt had collapsed onto one side years ago and nobody had bothered moving it. Stacks of timber had gone gray from exposure.

Snow collected beneath the shadows of the buildings.

Three other vehicles were already parked outside.

Mason stopped beside them.

Felix looked around.

"We're here?"

"No. Hawaii."

Felix stared at the surrounding snow.

"Could've fooled me."

Mason shut the engine off.

The entire truck seemed to sigh as the vibrations stopped.

"Listen carefully."

The humor disappeared.

Felix straightened.

"You don't speak unless somebody asks you something."

"Alright."

"You don't ask names."

"Roger that."

"You don't ask where anybody lives."

"Fair."

"You don't ask how many people there are."

Felix nodded.

"You don't ask about other cells."

"Cells?"

Mason looked at him.

Felix raised his hands.

"Right. Don't ask."

"And most importantly."

Mason leaned slightly closer.

"If somebody tells you to leave, you leave."

Felix glanced toward the building.

"And if they tell me to stay?"

Mason opened the door.

"Then hope they like you."

Excellent.

Felix stepped outside.

Cold air immediately replaced the warm cab.

He could feel people watching him before he actually saw them.

A man smoking beside a stack of pallets.

A woman bent over the engine bay of an old Jeep.

Someone standing behind a second-floor window.

One by one, none of them looked particularly intimidating.

Together?

Different story.

Mason walked toward the larger building.

Felix followed.

Three knocks.

Pause.

Two knocks.

The door opened.

Jack stood on the other side.

"Made it."

"Against all odds." Felix answered.

Jack looked at Mason.

"He talk much?"

"Unfortunately."

"I get that a lot."

Jack moved aside.

"Come in."

The meeting itself was almost disappointing.

Almost.

Felix had expected maps covering the walls.

Masks.

Machine guns.

Maybe someone giving an overly dramatic speech about freedom and tyranny.

Instead there were eleven people sitting around two folding tables drinking coffee.

For a moment Felix thought he'd accidentally walked into an AA meeting.

One woman was eating a donut.

Another man was fighting with an ancient coffee machine.

Somebody had left a heavy winter coat draped over the back of a chair.

It felt painfully normal.

That was what made it unsettling.

Nobody used full names.

Some people didn't use names at all.

Felix took a seat beside Mason.

Jack started talking.

Supply routes. Patrol movement. Checkpoints. Fuel shortages. A missing contact farther west.

There was a ten-minute argument about whether the man had been arrested or simply abandoned them.

Another argument about medicine.

Another about food.

Another about ammunition.

The revolution, Felix discovered, apparently involved significantly more inventory management than movies suggested.

One woman passed around pictures of her grandson.

Somebody made a joke.

People laughed.

Felix ‘watched.

Listened.

Remembered.’

These weren't monsters. That bothered him more than if they had been.

People were easier to hate when they behaved the way you expected villains to behave.

The conversation changed.

Jack looked at Felix.

"Our new friend is an engineer."

Every head turned.

Felix suddenly found the coffee in his cup extremely interesting.

"Mechanical." he corrected.

An older man across the table leaned forward.

"Vehicles?"

"Some."

"Generators?"

"Depends."

"Industrial equipment?"

"Also depends."

The man looked toward Jack.

"Useful."

Felix wasn't certain whether to take that as a compliment.

Jack folded his hands.

"We don't expect anything from you yet."

Yet.

Felix noticed that word.

"We're cautious."

"I noticed."

Mason kicked his boot underneath the table.

Right.

Don't speak unless asked.

Jack continued.

"Roger vouched for you. Mason spent the morning with you."

Felix glanced sideways.

‘Spent the morning deciding whether or not to blow me up.’ he thought

"He says your story holds."

Something inside Felix loosened slightly.

"But trust isn't given because somebody answers questions correctly."

Felix nodded.

"I wouldn't expect it."

"You'll start small."

Jack leaned back.

"Deliveries. Watching roads. Maybe repair work."

Felix stayed quiet.

"No weapons."

Fine.

"No operations."

Even better.

"No sensitive information."

That one Mos'ralyt would hate.

"But that changes if you prove yourself."

Jack stretched his hand across the table.

"So."

He watched Felix carefully.

"Still interested?"

Felix looked at the hand.

For a moment his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Mom. Dad. Cecilia. The hospital.

Crimson mixed with blue on the floor.

Mos'ralyt standing behind him.

The bargain.

The devil's hand.

Felix looked around the room.

Somebody here knew something.

Maybe not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

But eventually somebody would lead him where he needed to go.

He took Jack's hand.

"Yeah."

They shook.

"I'm interested."

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The meeting ended shortly after noon.

Nobody left together.

Felix noticed that immediately.

One person would leave.

Five minutes.

Then another.

Sometimes two.

Different vehicles.

Different roads.

Different directions.

Basic compartmentalization.

Smart.

Annoying.

But smart.

Mason had disappeared somewhere inside the main building to speak with Jack, leaving Felix outside with a paper cup of terrible coffee.

Felix leaned against one of the old wooden support beams and looked toward the tree line.

The clouds had begun breaking apart.

Thin rays of sunlight stretched between them, illuminating small sections of the mountains while leaving everything else gray.

It was beautiful.

In another life Felix might have enjoyed it.

He pulled out his pocket watch.

12:17.

The second hand moved with mechanical perfection.

Still on time.

Not a nanosecond early.

Not a nanosecond late.

Felix rubbed his thumb across the worn metal casing.

"Wish me luck, Dad."

He closed it.

"Torres."

Felix turned.

The younger man from inside stood in the doorway carrying a cardboard box full of parts.

"Jack says you're the engineer."

"Supposedly."

"Could use a hand."

Felix looked around.

Mason still wasn't back.

"Sure."

Might as well make myself useful.

The second building turned out to be some kind of workshop.

It was warmer inside, though not by much.

Old fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

The place smelled like metal, grease and sawdust.

Workbenches lined the walls.

There were engine components scattered everywhere.

Radio equipment.

Tools.

Old human weapons mixed among ordinary hardware.

A portable heater struggled in one corner.

Felix helped move a few boxes.

Then a few more.

The younger man disappeared through a doorway after telling Felix he'd be right back.

Felix stood alone for a moment.

He looked down at the workbench.

An alternator sat partially disassembled in front of him.

Or what remained of one.

Felix picked it up.

"Jesus."

The housing was cracked.

Somebody had clearly hit it with something.

"What the hell did they do to you?"

Voices came from the next room.

Felix ignored them at first.

He turned the alternator over in his hands.

Probably salvageable.

Maybe.

One voice grew closer.

"...we'll move the other supplies tonight."

Felix froze.

Not because of what had been said.

The voice.

There was something about it.

Familiar.

His head lifted.

Footsteps crossed the adjoining room.

Felix slowly placed the alternator back onto the bench.

He moved closer to the doorway.

Not through it.

Just enough to see.

There was another section of the workshop beyond, separated by shelves filled with machinery and boxes.

Two men stood near a table.

One had his back toward Felix.

The other stood partially sideways.

Felix's breathing stopped.

No.

For several seconds his brain refused to accept what his eyes were seeing.

The man was older.

Not by much.

His beard was thicker than Felix remembered.

Hair shorter.

Face thinner.

There were lines around his eyes which Felix didn't remember being there before.

But Felix knew him.

There was no mistaking him.

His mind supplied memories faster than he could stop them.

Houston.

Birthday parties.

Cookouts.

His parents laughing.

Dad standing next to him with a beer in his hand.

His mother's cremation.

A man showing up despite all the complications.

A promise.

One phone call away.

Felix's flesh hand tightened against the edge of the doorway.

Oscar.

Oscar was standing twenty feet away from him.

Inside a Mountain Maverick safehouse.

Felix instinctively moved backward.

The movement brought him behind one of the tall shelving units.

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs.

Oscar kept talking.

He hadn't seen him.

He hadn't even looked toward the doorway.

Felix leaned carefully around the shelf.

Only enough to confirm it.

Same face. Same posture. Same voice.

Oscar.

His family friend.

The man who had known his parents.

The man who had come to his mother's cremation.

The man Felix had considered one of the few remaining pieces of his old life.

Here.

Felix felt his prosthetic fingers slowly curl into a fist.

Questions flooded his head.

How?

Since when?

Was he one of them?

Had he always been one of them?

Did he know about the attack? Did he know… Felix's breath caught.

The festival.

Cecilia.

The explosion.

For a fraction of a second the workshop disappeared.

Yellow-white light. Heat.

Cecilia laying on the pavement.

Blood.

The night sky.

Felix blinked hard.

The workshop returned. Oscar was still there. Alive.

Laughing quietly at something the other man said.

Felix's stomach turned.

He couldn't move.

Every instinct told him to walk through that doorway.

Say his name. Demand answers. Grab him.

Do something. Anything.

But another voice rose above the rest.

Mos'ralyt’s.

‘Observe.

Listen.

Do not expose yourself unless necessary.’

Felix swallowed.

His hand relaxed.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

He stepped farther behind the shelf.

Oscar walked across the room.

For one terrifying moment he moved closer to Felix.

Felix pressed himself against the cold metal shelving.

Footsteps.

Closer.

Closer.

Then stopped.

Felix barely breathed.

He could see Oscar through the gaps between boxes.

Maybe fifteen feet away now.

Oscar picked up a folder from the table.

Looked through it.

Said something Felix couldn't hear.

Then turned around.

The footsteps moved away.

Felix remained still.

His heart refused to calm down.

Oscar disappeared through another door.

Only then did Felix allow himself to breathe.

One long, shaking exhale.

He looked down.

His right hand was trembling.

Metal fingers. Actually trembling.

Felix stared at them.

"What the fuck..."

He looked toward the doorway Oscar had disappeared through.

The meeting suddenly didn't matter.

The infiltration didn't matter.

Even the mission felt different now.

Because somewhere inside that building was a man who knew Felix Alvarez Mejia.

Not Felix Torres.

Not the Charlotte orphan.

Not the unemployed mechanical engineer who came north because he had nowhere else to go.

Felix. The real Felix.

And worse. Felix knew him too.

He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch.

His thumb rested over the latch.

He didn't open it.

He just held it.

He was thinking about one question.

What the hell was he doing here?

————————————————————————————————————————————————

First / Previous / Next

————————————————————————————————————————————————

I'm back

Thank you to anyone reading this, if you are confused around the names yes I did change them for no deep and philosophical reason.

Will do my best to maintain any sort of structure schedule, but we'll see about that.

Credit to BlueFishcake and his original work and thanks for letting us play in his playground.

Proofread and edited by - FeathersAndBottlecaps

LordHenry7898- Chaos and Mayhem

BruhMomentGEE - Appalachia Calling

CompassWithHat - Top Lasgun

Rhion-618 - Just One Drop

Kazevenikov - The Cryptid Chronicles

And many more who also inspired me to write again and join in

--- --- ---

“Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” -  Michael J. Fox

De’tan sat between his wives as the transport rumbled down the road. His son rested in his arms as the gentle rocking of the transport lulled him to sleep. His two youngest daughters sat across from him with his other wives. He was worried for the safety of his wives and children when Syrren had announced that they would be the family that would be participating in this event learning about the local humans.

He had been watching human movies and shows when he was home watching the kids and doing house chores. It had been shocking to see example after example that human men acted like women. He had discussed it with the other men and husbands in their chat group and the consensus had been “well . . . humans?” It was reassuring when his wife told him that these humans had been cleared by the Interior and were actively a part of the Governess’s projects.

There had been so many attacks in this sector that were never reported on to avoid bolstering the insurgents. He knew when he saw it on his wife’s face or heard her discussing it with her kho’s thinking he wasn’t listening in. She didn’t want to worry him and he understood, but he was her husband. She should be able to confide in him.

De’tan felt the transport begin to slow down. They had been driving down this road out of the district for what he guessed was forty minutes, so they had to be there by now.

“WHAT’S THAT!”

De’tan saw his daughter Val’re pointing out the window and followed her finger.

Out the window was a human riding a, he wasn’t sure what it was but it was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Its fur caught the light as it bounded across the ground keeping up with the transport, the hair on its head and feet waving through the air.

The human rider was wearing a large coat that was waving in the wind and a wide brimmed hat. He wasn’t sure if it was a male or female since they were covered up except for the eyes.

The human looked over and waved, then began to stand up on the animal's back.

De’tan heard himself and others gasp.

“They're gonna fall off,” Tulli, his other daughter, said in a panic.

After the human stood up and waved again they dropped back down onto the saddle. 

“There’s another one.”

De’tan was so caught up with what he was seeing he wasn’t sure which wife said it.

He watched as another smaller version of the animal came racing up. Its rider was not as covered up and he could tell this one was male.

The riders seemed to signal to each other and De’tan heard gasps and small yelps of fear as both riders seemed to fall off their saddles and hang upside down off the sides of their animals, taking their hats off and waving with them.

They both righted themselves, then the small one raced ahead out of sight.

When the man came back into view he was without his animal, standing with his arm out.

De’tan watched as the covered rider snatched him up and pulled the man onto his animal without even breaking stride.

There were several exclamations of surprise and awe.

Turns out they weren’t done as the smaller animal came back around, racing up beside the larger one. De’tan watched as the man began to stand up.

“He’s not gonna - ” Before De’tan could finish the thought the man had jumped and landed back on his animal. 

Then he watched both animals and their riders veer off towards the house at the end of the gravel road their transport had just turned onto.

De’tan heard a mix of wonder, excitement, and worry about men doing such dangerous stunts.

Moments later, getting out of the transport, he couldn’t help but take everything in. All the buildings that were made of wood, all the open fields, and the people in front of them.

He saw that the heavy clothed one was male; the cloth that had covered his face was removed. Both men looked so much alike, like the same person just at different points in their life.

Then there was the Matriarch (he assumed) standing between the men on their large beasts. All his life he had never seen a woman so small. He imagined if he got closer they would be eye to eye. She wore a white dress with flower designs all over it. Unlike the men her hair was long and black, her eyes were green, and she wore the most friendly smile he’d ever seen on a human since he got to earth.

“Welcome to our family's farm. It’s a pleasure to have you visit us today,” she said in Vatika with a noticeable accent and a polite bow of the head.

“I’m Marie Bennet.” Marie pointed to the man on the smaller animal. “This is my husband Brian,” pointing to the younger man, “my son Arthur”. Then she pointed to the smaller animal. “This is our horse Coco.” The horse shook its head and gave a snort. 

De’tan heard his daughters giggle.

She then pointed to the large horse. “And this is Bruce.” The horse reared up onto its back legs and let out a loud cry. 

He felt his wives close around him but the horse just dropped back to the ground with a thump of its hooves. Arthur was smiling rather than the scowl he had been wearing till that point, but as soon as he met De’tans gaze that resting scowl returned. 

Marie was about to begin speaking again when she was interrupted by the Interior agent.

“Before we begin anything we need to finalize what will take place today.” The agent stepped forward to the front of the group, her Helkam assistant that was piloting the camera drones floating around following after her.

Marie’s pleasant smile didn’t change and she simply replied,“If that’s what needs to be done, we can do that now if you wish.”

De’tan looked towards Brian who seemed unconcerned but when he looked at Arthur the man was clearly trying to kill the agent with the glare he was sending her way.

— — —

“It wasn’t the best or longest performance they had done but it would do,” Arthur thought to himself as he remembered doing trick riding at local rodeos and 4H fairs with his father when he was a teenager. He also remembered the hospital visits.

Arthur watched the three vehicles make their way down the gravel driveway, and remembered how disappointed he was when he discovered flying cars really weren’t a thing. They existed but more in hovering than flying.

“Holy shit, he’s small,” was the first thought in Arthur's head when he got his first look at a Shil’vati male. The man was carrying a baby with two other little ones hanging close by.

Arthur was a bit disappointed, he had heard that the males were fruity. This one more just looked like a guy out of a different era, wearing a bright violet shirt with collars around the neck and sleeves and shiny black bell bottoms. He wouldn’t look out of place as a background character in a disco or hippie movie, besides the whole being purple thing.

He watched as one marine officer in uniform and three other Shil’vati women encircled the male and kids.

"Doesn't take much effort to know who the wives are.”

Looking at the women Arthur was suddenly wondering how strong a Shil male’s pelvis bone was.

Arthur refocused as he took in who else was offloading. Six marines, three other marines hanging back with the vehicles, one Interior agent he didn’t know, and a woman with grey skin and black scales and lizard-like fins where her ears would be.

He also noticed how everyone except the male and kids were armed and some were trying to hide it but he could see the tells of concealed weapons. Small bulges in clothes or how something shifted when they moved.

Arthur started taking mental inventory of what his family had at hand.

“Moms got her nine mil in a leg strap under her dress. Dad’s got his 1911 in his shoulder holster under his button up. I have two Colt revolvers and a pair of snub noses tucked into my boots. The shotgun in the closet behind the front door. Hunting rifles upstairs in my parents room.”

They had more guns but those were just what they had easy access to, the rest were in the safe in the cellar. They wouldn’t be much help against the marines considering most rounds bounced off, but they were more for hunting, farm pests, and uninvited guests of a human kind.

Arthur listened to his mother give her introduction and when she got to Bruce. Arthur used his spurs to give Bruce the command. Bruce reared up, letting out a loud whinny, and slammed back down. He couldn’t help but smile seeing that he spooked their “guests”.

He saw the male peeking around his wives.

It brought back memories about the people he used to look out for, the family lost and the fiancee he used to have. All of them taken from him by the Empire that was here to “help”.

“Before we begin anything we need to finalize what will take place today,” the agent said, stepping forward from the rest of the group. Her little grey lizard woman with camera drones floating around followed behind her.

“BITCH YOU DIDN’T INTERRUPT MY MOTHERS INTRODUCTION, I’LL HAVE BRUCE TRAMPLE YOUR ASS TO DEATH!”

Even as Arthur's thoughts imagined horse-enabled homicide, he was aware it wasn’t so much the interruption that upset him but the smug superiority that all noble and noble adjacent Shil’vati spoke with. Ray’ella and Ru’bian were the only two he knew that could turn it off and talk like people.

“If that’s what needs to be done, we can do that now if you wish.” Arthur heard the slight annoyance in his mothers voice, but knew they wouldn’t catch it, subtlety wasn’t a Shil’vati strong point.

“Excellent,” the Interior agent said, turning to the Colonel, “Colonel, if you and Mrs. Bennet could come with me and we can get this started.”

Apparently Arthur wasn’t the only one that didn’t have the best opinion of the agent if the grimace that crossed the face of the Colonel was anything to go by.

“Sarza, you stay here and get some area shots,” the Agent ordered to her lizard woman follower as her, the Colonel, and Arthur’s mom made their way towards one of the canopy tents they had set up earlier.

“Sweety, go check on the food while we have time. Arthur, get our guests some refreshments,” Marie called out behind her.

Arthur saw his dad take Coco back around the house to where the main courses were either still grilling or smoking.

The lizard woman Sarza was making her little camera drones fly around getting an aerial view of the farm. 

The marines were also spreading out over the area in front of the house, though one of them was hanging by the family. The three that hung back with the vehicles were using the turrets to scan the road while the one from the transport was just leaning on her vehicle, probably already on a rotation of manning the turrets.

“Great, thanks to that damned agent you get to play host. It’s fine, all you have to do is pretend to be nice to them for a few hours, it won't kill you. Then you can worry about the fallout after. You're doing this for your mom, suck it up.”

Arthur was pulled from his inner monologue when he noticed them looking at him, either with curiosity or expectation he wasn’t sure.

He grabbed the reins and got Bruce walking towards them.

Arthur, remembering to speak Vatika, said, “if you will come with me we have drinks and snacks already for you.”

“YOU CAN TALK!”, the marine blurted out in shocked surprise through her helmet speaker.

“Yes, what of it?” Arthur said, unsure of where this was going.

“But at the check point yesterday you didn’t say a word the whole time.”

Ah that was it, she was the one he named Touchy in his head if he remembered the voice right. 

He figured blunt and to the point would move this along the fastest.

“Well I was a male in a confined space with three marines. Marines who treat a hello and a moment's eye contact as an invitation. Before you ask, no, the apple was not me being nice it was me showing you it was not dangerous so you would let me leave.” Arthur hoped that deadpan explanation would deter her.

“Perfectly understandable, a gentleman can never be too careful,” a slightly flamboyant sounding voice spoke out.

Arthur turned his head to the voice to find the speaker was the Shil’vati man.

“It’s never a good idea to give a woman the wrong idea, especially if one is unaccompanied.”

Arthur watched as his head turned towards the marine and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Nothing happened, right?” He asked.

Arthur noticed all the wives' heads also turned the marines' direction.

“NO, no, nothing happened we were completely professional,” Touchy said, holding her hands up defensively, clearly thrown off by the accusation sent her way.

The Shil’vati man turned back to Arthur looking for confirmation. Arthur simply nodded.

“Well that’s good Mr. Arthur. Umm Mr. Bennet? Sorry, I’m not sure if humans normally go by first name or family name?” He asked, smiling up at Arthur.

“Okay Arthur, this is where your southern hospitality should kick in sooo…”

Arthur smiled, “You are guests in our home. You can just call me Arthur, no mister required. Now if I do not get you over to the refreshments table, my mother will be upset that I broke the rules of hospitality.”

“Rules of hospitality, you have rules about that?” asked one of the wives.

“Refreshments first, questions later,” Arthur replied, turning Bruce and heading towards the appetizer and snack table, not looking back to see if they followed.

After dismounting Bruce and leaving him to his favorite pastime of grazing, they had a round of quick introductions. Arthur learned the man's name was De’tan. His wives’ names were Kiora, Vex’ara, Nyx’tali and the one speaking to his mom was Colonel Syrren, and his daughters were Tulli and Val’re along with his son Ry’tan. Also for some reason the marine introduced herself as Zoraya.

Arthur leaned against the table as he watched them help themself to pickles, sliced white onions, fresh jalapenos, and homemade bread with BBQ dipping sauce.

He saw Kiora reach for the jalapenos and put his hand in her way.

“You might wanna not eat those considering your condition,” Arthur said, gesturing to her very pregnant belly.

“Could it hurt the baby?” she asked, getting everyone else's attention with the question.

“Well they tell human women to keep spicy food to a minimum, better to stay on the safe side.”

Arthur got an approving nod from De’tan and watched Kiora redirect her snacking to the bread and BBQ dipping sauce.

They were also drinking what Arthur could only describe as “Super sweet tea”. Shil’vati had a sweet tooth like no other, he remembered once taking a drink of Blue Grail thinking it would be like beer or maybe wine. It tasted like an overly sugary fruit punch that you would try to sell to kids.

Lucky for Arthur and everyone else there was another smaller pitcher of tea for people not of the purple persuasion.

“Well, hopefully they're too busy stuffing their faces to ask me questions.”

“So, what were the hospitality rules you talked about?” asked Vex’ara while munching on a pickle.

“Dammit.”

Arthur sighed, his hope dashed.

“It is a list of unspoken rules that people in the southern part of this country follow, it is just something we do and are known for,” Arthur said, doing his best to keep the smile in place.

“Like what?” Nyx’tali asked.

“Always offer guests something to eat or drink, greet guests yourself, send a handwritten thank-you note, remove your hat indoors. Those are some examples.”

“So it’s a bunch of rules about how you're supposed to behave?” Vex’ara asked through a mouth full of bread.

“Not talking with your mouth full,” Arthur thought, then replied, “pretty much, though it is not enforced and what parts of it you would encounter depends where you are. Most of them in Texas involve food, politeness, and protection.”

“Protection?” De’tan asked.

“Yes, Texans have a strong belief in self defence and protection of one’s family and land. As an invited guest to our home, I would be required to protect you from attack or danger.”

“That’s dumb.” 

Arthur looked down to Tulli, the child meeting his gaze.

“Girls protect boys, boys don’t fight,” Tulli said with the complete confidence of a child.

“Well we don’t have giant amazons and space tech.”

Before Arthur could think up a reply De’tan spoke up, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “We talked about this, humans do things differently, they’re still getting used to the way we do things.”

“Why should we, we didn’t come to your fucking planet,” Arthur thought, now desiring a beer and smoke if he was gonna have to keep this up any longer.

“Well it’s ten past noon so…”

Arthur opened the cooler by his feet and grabbed a beer and, using the edge of the table, popped the bottlecap off the bottle, sending it spinning up into the air. He caught it out of the air and took a long pull from the bottle. The cool beer was already doing wonders for his mood.

“That was neat, do it again!”

“Yeah, do it again!”

Arthur took the bottle from his mouth and looked down at the two girls who were looking at him with excited expressions. 

“What?”Arthur wondered what they were talking about.

“The thing with the bottle,” Tulli said, pointing at the bottle cap in Arthur’s hand.

Arthur looked at the beer contemplating if chugging it was a good idea or not, then looking over his shoulder came up with a better idea.

Switching back to English he yelled out “Bruce get over here,” then gave a whistle

The large equine stopped its grazing and slowly made its way to Arthur.

“Here Bruce, have a drink.” Arthur held the bottle out.

Everyone watched as Bruce clamped down on the bottle with a satisfying Tink, and began to lean his head back and drink.

“Is it okay for him to drink that?” one of the wives behind Arthur asked.

Arthur, almost forgetting to switch back to Vatika replied, “Yes, it helps them sweat when it gets hot.”

After a few moments Bruce let the bottle drop to the ground.

Arthur pulled a wheat cookie out of his pocket and gave it to Bruce before shooing him away.

Reaching back into the cooler Arthur grabbed another beer and just like the children asked he popped the bottle cap off and caught it in the air.

“Arthur, can I ask you about your horse?” De’tan asked with a new interest in his eyes.

It was funny hearing Shil’vati try to use English words without practice, they always seemed to grunt them out. 

From the looks of everyone else's faces in front of him learning about horses was apparently on all their minds.

“Can other people ride your horse besides you?” De’tan asked expectantly, as everyone else seemed to lean in waiting for the answer.

“Ah, so they wanna go for horse rides, that might be a good idea actually.”

Arthur was about to answer when he heard his mother call out.

“WE’RE READY.”

First Next

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** When I read other stories, information from the author is normally mixed into the comments. So I decided to have this spot at the bottom to address things so you don’t have to hunt it down in the comments or you can just skip it if you like. ** 

Sorry this one took so long to come out. Upper management decided to fully deepthroat one of our customers. Meaning they do nothing and people like me at the bottom have mandatory overtime to meet the needs of the customer.

Actual NSFW alert! Pancakes are served!

Now, if you wish to skip "the lewds" and just read the end of their meeting.....once they get to her front door, you can scoll down to where it says "A FUTURE TIME, ANOTHER PLACE". ;)

As always, huge thanks to u/BlueFishCakes for this wonderful world for us to play in. To u/RobotStatic for creating the adorable Arttamine & allowing me to make some moosey lewdness for the fun of it. And u/Legal_Dust_3531 for being my beta reader and suffering my stuff first, and has given some amazing suggestions

Previous

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Part 2

Despite all the street lights, as soon as they were out of the bright lights of the club and on the sidewalk, Johann was in awe at how her entire antlers flared into brightness in their genetically designed phosphorescence. The aqua-blue glowing light seemed brighter in the dark than what it perhaps was, but it was just bright enough to highlight Ihrfi's skin on her face and neck. Her skin had a slightly darker tone than most, to the point that the typical bluish tint of Arttamine skin was hardly noticeable. But with the added light from her now glowing antlers, her brownish skin shone with a matching hue. For some reason that made her face just all that more attractive.

"Heiland," he muttered huskily to himself, "rette mich….."

She turned her head to look at him, and he desperately hoped she didn't catch that he had to duck her antlers a slight bit. He was not overly tall, per se, but still taller than the dainty Arttamine men. She'd have had a tizzy if she thought she'd almost hit him.

"I'm sorry," she said with a worried look. "What was that?"

He smiled warmly. "I was just talking to myself, but nothing at all bad. Let me put it another way. 'For I have seen the beauty of Heaven, which I found in the arms of an angel'."

Then he slid his own arms around her 'waist', letting his arms and hands glide across her skin.

It caught him off guard when she seemed to stutter-step, her hooves all pattering on the sidewalk in a quick spasm. And then she stopped and tilted her head up slightly as her eyes closed for a moment. She gave herself a small smile, then shuddered and started walking again.

Her long hair, weaved into a single braid down the center of her back made the sides of her neck stand out to him, especially with the low collar of her blouse, leaving bare his favorite spot at the base of the neck where it becomes the shoulders. He couldn't resist, and he leaned forward to gently place a lingering kiss there.

She shuddered again with a quiet gasp, that then turned into a low moaning exhale.

"I-I don't…" she tried to say. "I don't live far, actually." And he felt their pace increase just the tiniest bit.

So he leaned to the other side, and gave a matching kiss on her other shoulder.

She groaned once more as her forelegs staccatoed on the sidewalk again.

"But if you keep that up," she breathed out, "I may not be able to make it all the way there!"

He lifted his head up until his nose brushed the soft furry skin of her ear, feeling it flicker against his face. Then he whispered, "I shall try to contain myself for the moment, then."

The moment they got the door of her house, he slid himself down before she could turn in a slight panic. "It's okay, I promise. I don't break easily."

She sighed momentarily, then opened the door. Johann knew to step in first before she shooed him in….his Arttamine primer for their social habits regarding males boiled down to "Expect a doting mother who's also a deadly bodyguard." Which meant Victorian courtesy to an almost aggressive level. But then, he hoped the rest of the night would be just as 'aggressive'.

The moment she was inside and the door closed, he whipped around, grabbed her hands, pulled her down to him, and planted an intense kiss on her surprised face.

Her hooves jumped to adjust her balance, and she moaned slightly as she let herself sink into the kiss. His tongue gently caressed her lips apart, finding her welcoming tongue there. Her hands squeezed his slightly, and then he realized they were slowly guiding his inwards, towards her more than ample bosom that now hung right in front of him. She moaned again as he let go of her hands to rotate them around to find the sides of her breasts. Filling his palms against the fabric of her blouse, she moaned again and held his hands tightly against her.

She finally broke away from him, though kept his hands on her. She breathed quickly for a moment, staring into his eyes with a longing that bored into his soul. Then she gulped and looked over his shoulder.

"Bedroom," she said as if in a whisper.

He gave her a playful squeeze. "Lead the way."

With only a dim light, accented by her own glow, he still easily saw the layout of the wide room. A desk and dresser lined a wall next to the door to a closet. Opposite that, the open door to the bathroom, where he spied mostly empty shelves and countertop, evidence of the lack of a "typical" male presence in the house. But there, in the center, was the humongous bed. Or, rather, the bed pit, with the mattress in it just barely an inch or so taller than the floor, itself.

She stepped directly to the bed's center, then turned around and lowered herself with her legs folded under her. She looked at him with a warm smile and held out her arms. That was all the invitation he needed.

He quickly kicked his shoes off and walked forward on to the surprisingly soft but firm mattress, letting himself be enveloped in her arms as they kissed yet again. And yet again she seemed surprised at his aggressiveness. Or maybe just the force that he kissed her with. It was one thing to know that the poor males of her species had been genetically designed to be fragile, but his heart ached at seeing how her own instinct of fear and concern could so easily override her passions. He would have to restrain himself a bit. For now. But it seemed a difficult goal because, by Prince Hans-Adam's Grace, she set his blood on fire.

He ran his hands up her sides, gliding around her bosom as she took deep breaths, then the soft skin of her neck. Finally he cupped her cheeks as he kissed her while his hands kept going until his fingers laced into her hair. She moaned happily as his hands circled around the base of her ears and he had to pause kissing to watch her eyes roll up in pleasure as he gently massaged where the soft fur of her ears began.

"Sweet Goddess, this can't be real," she whispered, as if to herself.

He gave her another light kiss, then yet another on her cheek. "Our night is just beginning," he said.

He released her ears and slid his hands down her face to her neck again, this time to the front, where he paused at the base of her neck where the collar of her blouse was. She let go of him and brought her hands up to that collar, her hands shaking nervously as she tried to fumble the top button loose.

His hands covered her fingers to steady them, then slipped under to grasp the button.

With a lusty grin, he said "Allow me…."

She dropped her arms, then lay her still-shaking hands on his hips to steady them, and make sure he didn't fall over. Her eyes closed again and she tilted her back slightly, exhaling deeply as he popped the first button loose. Then her breathing sped up a bit as his fingertips glided down her skin to the next button. She sat, unmoving except for the slow, deep breaths, until he had all five buttons undone.

Johann slid his fingers up the now open blouse, and slowly moved it over the tops of her shoulders. She moved her arms enough to let the blouse drop off , quietly landing and forgotten across her fore-hips. Then her eyes opened and she looked down at him nervously, practically holding her breath in her anticipation of his reaction.

He let his gaze linger on the delightful lacey bra, the same off-white as the blouse itself, framing around her plump breasts. Then his eyes found hers.

"Wunderschön," he said. "Beautiful."

He kissed her again, then moved his lips, kissing across her cheek, to her jaw, and then kissing down the side of her neck. His hands had no choice but to slide around the sides of her bra, stroking the soft lace as he traced small circles while nuzzling the base of her neck at his favorite spot. She moaned deeply and he chuckled at hoping it meant it was a preferred spot for her as well.

He then ran his tongue across the top of her shoulder until he met the brastrap, then playfully gripped it with his teeth to pull it off to the side of her arm while he pulled the other strap off at the same time with his hand.

She took a deep breath, then released it as she reached up behind to unhook the bra's clasps. It clung to her front as the straps hung loose, caught pressed between them. His hands flattened on the top of her shoulders, then began moving their way down the front of her chest.

As his hands got to where the bra still covered her, they both leaned back a bit and she grabbed the white lace and sent it flying across the room.

He kissed her sternum, then moved his lips down into her cleavage as he sank to his knees. His hands circled under her breasts to vainly cup their voluminousness.

No, not just breasts, he playfully told himself. Time to let the naughtiness out. Once you have your hands and lips on them, they're boobs. Tits, even.

He lifted one slightly higher as his lips moved outward from the warm cleavage and then he felt his cheek brush against the edges of her areola. Then he angled his head so his lips were straight on to her, and he kissed the last inch of perfectly smooth skin. Then he opened his mouth just enough to let his tongue slide out, and he licked across where the skin changed, from the bluish brown to dark dark blue. The contrast made them stand out from the rest of her bosom, as if to draw his eyes there on purpose.

He started moving his mouth up and around in a circling orbit around her nipple. Slowly licking for an inch and then kissing. Then another orbit, moving inward, closer and closer until his tongue flickered across the nub of her nipple, itself.

With just the tip of his tongue, he circled around it, then slowly slid his lips over it entirely, suckling gently while flicking his tongue across it. The sound of her gasping inhale encouraged him and he let his other hand slide across her skin until it found her other nipple, covering it and slowly rubbing it between his fingers in time with his mouth working on the first.

Ihrfi moaned loudly, rolling her head as her hands shot up to his shoulders, then her left hand slid into his hair, softly rustling it as he continued playing and teasing her flushed tits.

He paused a moment, intent to swap his lips to the other side, but as he pulled back from her, he found himself held slightly in place as she deftly hooked her finger on the top of his shirt, gently pulling it up over his head. He lifted his arms to let her lift the shirt completely off him and she let it drop, already forgotten, as she placed her palm on his chest.

For a few seconds she just stared at him, watching and feeling his bare torso as it expanded and shrunk with each breath.

"So robust," she said, almost as if she was confused that he wasn't as thin and weak as her husband had to have been. "I'm sorry…I-it's just been so long. This is a wonder I thought I'd never feel before."

He smiled and reached up to kiss her again. "And you, my dear lady, are intoxicating. This night is yours, and so am I."

"Mine," she said, as if to herself. "ALL mine?"

Johann nodded, and watched her gaze slowly draw down across his bare chest, her fingers following them across his skin. Then both eyes and hands paused as they got to his belt.

Her eyes bounced up and down between there and his face, a look of fearful longing filling them. When they settled on his face for a moment, he just whispered, "Yours."

Like a racehorse having the start gate suddenly snap open in front of her, her hands freed themselves from their cage of hesitation. Her fingers hooked his belt buckle and with a gentleness that matched her lust, and she popped the belt open, as well as the button of his trousers. Then she exhaled slowly and deeply as she worked the zipper and the pants opened up, ready to fall off his hips. The bulge of his erection pushed against the snug black briefs he wore underneath, and she pulled his trousers over his butt until they dropped to his feet.

Her eyes bulged as her hands slid back up his thighs and he couldn't help but close his own eyes as her fingers felt around and over his barely contained cock.

She gave another short exhale, quickly this time, and then he felt her hook the waist of his briefs, and the sudden release of tension as they dropped away and his throbbing member sprung loose.

Then his whole world exploded in ecstasy as her fingers wrapped around his shaft, feeling it with the lightest of squeezes that seemed in perfect time with her ragged breathing.

"Sweet Goddess," she intoned once again, hoarsely and sounding of disbelief. "It's so….hard." Desire filled her expression and he smiled as she tried to wet her lips and swallow without showing it. But she continued to gently massage him in tempo with her tits rising with each quick breath.

He looked deep into her eyes, a look she returned in a way that pierced into him, lighting his desire even brighter. "What would you like? Because I absolutely want to please you. Nothing would make me happier than to find out what lovely sounds I can entice out of you."

Without a word, she held his hands and moved them back up to her boobs, cupping them over her nipples again. "More," was all she said.

He happily returned his attention where it'd been, exploring around all the curves and inches of her bosom with his fingers, lips, and tongue. As he scrunched down a bit to glide his tongue under the bottom curve of her heaving boobs, he let his lips finally jump off them to her abdomen, feeling the coils of muscle under the soft skin that reminded him of her unique physiology. There was no stomach or intestine there like humans or Shil, all those organs were in the larger equine…'moosequine?'....portion of her. The human-like abdomen under her large lungs and ribcage was mostly just muscles and tendons that let her both twist all the way to reach behind her, and hold her upper body bent over for a surprisingly long time without a backache.

But the skin there had nerves just like he did, and they responded to his kisses and nibbles with little shudder and accompanying moans as he moved his way downwards. His mind barely noted the fact that she didn't have a belly-button, caring only that it gave him more smooth ground to cover with kisses and licks.

And then he got down to her waist. Or rather, where a waist would normally be. Instead, he just encountered the line where the dark fur began, just above where her body flared out to the muscular forehips of her front legs.

"Huh," he said with a wry smile. Then he looked up around her tits to see her staring down with a slightly worried look. He simply gave her as reassuring of a smile as he could.

"I'll admit, this is a first for me. None of this was planned or anything, I just knew I had to meet you, so… well, I hadn't thought ahead to how this would work."

"Is my difference from human women too much?" she asked. "Now that you're actually experiencing it?"

"Like I said, I hadn't really thought about it either way before tonight, and then all I could think of was that I just knew I had to meet you. It is a very new thing to me, now that I've gotten, well, 'down' to this part of you. But…."

He looked down at the dark brown fur at the front of her lower body. He ran a hand across her back, watching the muscles twitch excitedly under his fingers, before looking back up.

"I would very much like to keep going. If you want."

The worried look in her eyes flashed for a second, and then she leaned herself down to him, and they kissed. One that lingered long enough to be his answer.

When they finally broke, he turned his attention down, playfully letting one hand brush down across her still sensitive nipples as he moved to lay his chest on her furry back, feeling the softness of it against his skin as he lovingly petted her sides. He lifted his head up, noticing she was still turned to watch him, an adorable blush filling her face as he slid himself down her flank to her haunches.

Then her eyes shot wide and she blushed even harder.

"Dear Goddess!" she practically shouted. "Those stupid pants! I'm sorry, they must look completely dorky!"

That made him flat out laugh with mirth. Then he shook his head and went, "You couldn't be more adorable if you tried. Besides, I'm a paleontologist, remember? Cargo shorts are like our official uniform!"

"You don't think they look dumb?" she asked with a burgeoning smile.

"Of course not," he chuckled. "I'm not joking that at least two thirds of my wardrobe that I brought with me are cargo shorts. And other than these slacks I have for meetings and such, all my trousers are cargo pants. I practically live in them."

Then his smile turned mischievous. "Now….let's see about getting you OUT of yours."

He turned his fingers downwards and then ran his fingernails down the center of her back, enjoying as her entire body jittered as if on the verge of it tickling, but not quite. Then he got to the "waist" of the shorts, just in front of her hip joint, with the snap-closure and zipper being on what would normally be the back of a biped's shorts. But on her, it made total sense.

So he unsnapped it, and slowly ran the zipper open. He felt her shudder and her front half started to come up as her front legs wanted to do their nervous clip-clop despite being tucked under her.

He moved his hand under the waistline and was glad he could at least spread his arms wide enough to slide the shorts back, and then downward over her butt. It only took a few inches of the shorts moving to release her stubby tail, which, now freed, began a spasmic wiggling wag back and forth in anticipation. He smiled again, wondering in the moment that the advantage of aliens was nothing seemed odd or unusual any more. You just learned to instinctively roll with it all.

Of course, as the shorts went over the crest of her bum, he made sure to run his hands over her haunches, rubbing and gently squeezing here and there, giving his own moans of approval at the feel of dense muscle.

But then he realized a small problem, and looked up to her face, seeing her reopen her eyes after enjoying his short little massage. She frowned for a moment at her shorts, then he felt her shift her rear legs.

He leaned back to let her slowly stand up, trying not to chuckle out loud at hearing her whisper "Please be careful."

While still on the side of her leg, he pulled the shorts and (soaking wet) undies down and moved them just enough as she lifted that leg up to her hoof clear. Then she kicked expertly with the other, sending the last of her clothing to the other side of the room. But then she stared at him, waiting for him to be clear as she settled herself down again.

Then Johann crawled around her leg until he was finally behind her, her tail practically creating a breeze as it waggled back and forth like a hyperactive doberman.

And then his final surprise, one that actually did catch him off guard. If there had been any microsecond in his mind about hesitation or uncertainty, it was only not really quite knowing what to expect under those shorts. Her being a centaur kind of being, part of him expected a more, for lack of better reference, a vagina more like a horse. But the luck of aliens across the galaxy seemed to play out for everyone being sexually compatible (he wasn't sure about Ulnos but had never met one), and what he beheld was a very wet and very human-like pussy. He had dated Shil before, and a couple of Rakiri, and even a Helkam for a short bit. Purple skin, fur, even cold with a random scales here and there, nothing ever felt out of the ordinary. And Ihrfi was the most amazing and tantalizing of them all.

His eyes lit up as he realized he would have absolutely no problem at all knowing what to do. He leaned over and grabbed a pillow from the edge of the bed and plopped it down between her folded up legs. Then rotating himself down onto his back, he slid himself up on the pillow until his face met her dripping cunt.

He barely heard her speak with his ears muffled by her inner thighs. "What are you do-AHHH!"

Her whole body spasmed for a split second and then froze as his tongue reached out to glide up the cleft between her labia's lips until it reached the nub of her clit.

"Oh Goddess!" was all she could add, her voice breaking as she tried to gasp and scream at the same time. He wrapped his arms up around her legs as best he could, to steady himself.

His lips and tongue went to work, up and down her slit, licking, sucking, and kissing. One moment he flicked his tongue across and around her clit, listening for her gasps, then he'd cover her pussy with his mouth, licking deep into her and lapping up the hot juices of her excitement until he had to take a breath. Within just a few seconds, he felt her breathing get faster and she started to hoarsely chant out "Oh Goddess…Goddess….I'm going to…Oh! GODDESS!" and then he felt her squeeze and pulse against his face as her first orgasm hit her.

He paused his ministrations to enjoy feeling her pleasure shudder through her.

Her voice came out between panting breaths. "That…hasn't happened…in years. Oh! Johann, are you alright? Are you okay!?!?"

In answer, he squeezed her legs reassuringly, and then got back to work with his lips and tongue again.

"Ah!!!" she cried out in surprise. "More? You can still do more? Ahhhh, yes…MORE!"

He lost track of any sense of time, or how many orgasms he had licked out of her, but eventually he finally felt like she'd had her full fill of oral.

He rolled himself onto his knees, casually wiping his smothered face off with his bare arms. She lay her torso down slightly to the side so she could look back at him with a tired but glowing face.

"That was wonderful," she breathed, her swollen tits heaving as she inhaled.

"Was?" he teased with a grin. I'm not done yet."

"Not done!?!?"

Johann looked down at her still wet entrance, watching it clench and release in the afterglow of her orgasms. The sight of it made his half-erect cock pulse hard in an instant. He reached a couple of fingertips to her, teasingly gathering up some of her juices that seemed to never stop flowing, and wetted his foreskin.

Then, scooting himself forward a little, he rubbed the head of his cock against her as she hummed loudly in anticipation. He locked eyes with her and gave the naughtiest grin he could give. "Tell me, dear one. Tell me what you want."

"I want you," she said hoarsely, returning his grin.

"You want me, what? If you want me to fuck you, tell me."

"YESSSS…..Please, fuck me."

He pushed his cock into her, slowly filling her as deeply as he could, closing his eyes as the incredible sensation made him moan out as loudly as she was. The feeling of her wrapped around him was breathtaking.

He held himself there for a moment, letting her adjust to his new presence. Then he began working himself out and then back in, moving slowly at first, enjoying each gasp she gave as he thrust himself back deep into her.

Then his pace started to increase. She kept her body still, but he expected that. But he could feel her inner muscles beginning to work in time with his thrusts, and the heat of her juices increased as her breathing sped up, muttering "yes yes yes yes."

Finally, he felt his own insides start to tense, his orgasm suddenly building to a crescendo with a surprising speed.

—

Ihrfi couldn't believe what she was feeling. First he got her worked up with her boobs, then he actually licked her! Down 'There'! And he enjoyed it! He literally licked her to an orgasm! No, wait, FOUR of them! She couldn't remember ever having that many in a full week, but in the span of less than an hour?

And now, now that amazingly hard dick was filling her up, thrusting into her faster and faster. Her instincts wanted to panic that he was about to break something, but the strength of his hands gripped to tops of her ass told her otherwise.

She was so sensitive that she could actually feel him start to swell, and without having to think she knew it was approaching.

As ragged as her breathing was, she forced her eyes open just a moment to watch him pumping into her. His own breathing became labored, and for a moment she was worried again he was going to hurt himself. Then he looked up at her and managed to grunt out "So….fucking…beautiful…AH!"

Something about him saying that made her spontaneously explode in the biggest orgasm she'd ever had in her whole life. And as soon as her orgasm hit her, so did his.

He thrust deep into her and she felt his cock explode inside her, filling her with more scorching hot cum than she thought imaginable. The intensity of his organ pulsing inside her made a second wave of pleasure crash over her before the first one had even finished.

Then, when she expected him to collapse across her rump, or gently slide down to lay on the mattress, he…didn't. In fact, he was still inside her and then she felt him start to slowly move again. Almost all the way out, and then slowly back in, the rhythmic stroking beginning again. AGAIN?

She hadn't realized she said that out loud until he responded with a husky "Again…."

Sweet Goddess, this human is…imossible!

A couple hours later she lay on her side, half asleep. Johann slept in front of her, face against her cleavage with his head on one of her breasts. This, now, was something she desperately missed.

But she realized that certain parts of her ached. Not in pain, no, but definitely from an unexpected over-exertion of what her body was used to. She sighed deeply, trying not to wake Johann.

That had been the most unbelievably incredible experience she could have imagined. No, actually, she doubted she could have imagined THAT much, even in her wildest youth. It was the sort of thing no one would believe, even if she could find the words to describe it.

Humans were definitely impossible. Amazingly so. And she would NEVER forget the feelings that still rippled through her. I know.

But, she wondered, could she ever handle something like that again? It was incredible, but….also overwhelming. She finally dozed off, still pondering the very idea of ever seeing another human again after this.

—

A FUTURE TIME, ANOTHER PLACE

Gi’zehl had been a bartender for many years, well long enough to have seen way too much of the insanity people are capable of. No matter the species, it was practically universal that People Are Insane. In fact, that’s why she ended up moving to work on Leuilium. If there was one place in the galaxy, and one species in the galaxy, least likely to drive her to drink by the end of a shift, it was here. Which is why what she was beholding had her utterly flabbergasted.

She thought coming across a human male here on the Arttamine homeworld was rare enough, but she’d been hearing about a couple showing up here and there. And here, indeed, was one. Sitting right at her bar, quietly sipping his Blue Gold. It was tempting, at first, to maybe try chatting casually with him, but that was one of the unspoken rules of Leuilium life….you left males alone. Besides, he looked utterly uninterested in anyone or anything besides his drink.

But even that peculiarity paled in comparison to what just walked through her doorway. It was an Arttamine woman, which wasn’t at all unusual, except for, well, everything about her!

Her top was just a tight leather vest that looked a full size or so too small, testing the tensile strength of every thread holding on to the buttons that barely kept her bosom from exploding out. And a matching black leather skirt on her hindquarters that barely covered her haunches at all. And under them, extending down her rear legs all the way to her hooves, were….hand to the Empress, no lie….fishnet stockings. And her hooves were painted! Bright red polish that matched the absurdly red lipstick and pink makeup on her face. She was like the silliest cartoon of a slutty guy on the prowl she’d ever seen. Worse than that Gary guy she'd seen once on Shil.

If there was ever a way she would NEVER expect to see an Arttamine, this was beyond even that. They were so wholesome, this had to have been some accident. Or worse, some offworld bitch played a prank on her. Probably a Nighkru, no doubt.

Then Gi’zehl was shocked again, realizing that the Arttamine’s appearance wasn’t an accident as she spied the Human at the bar, then smirked lustfully as she made a straight line across the room for him.

Gi’zehl was actually so shocked by this wholly unbelievable scenario suddenly unfolding in front of her that she didn’t even manage to think of warning the poor guy, who was just quietly sitting there with his drink.

Before her mind restarted actually thinking, the Arttamine was already up next to the man, leaning her upper half down onto the bartop.

“Hey there, cute stuff!” she cooed at the Human. “What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”

Gi’zehl almost harumphed in offense at the implication her bar wasn’t up to snuff, but she was too surprised by how the man barely gave the tiniest bit of a smirk as his only reaction.

“Just enjoying my beer,” is all he said.

“Well, I got a thing or two you’d probably enjoy even more.” With that, she actually waggled her eyebrows at him! Gi’zehl could NOT believe what she was witnessing.

“A thing,” he muttered. “Or two? Interesting maths, there.”

“Indeed. We can go add one plus one and make us both one, eh?” The Arttamine’s ears flickered in amusement, seemingly quite proud of herself for that pun.

“Ya know,” the unbelievable woman kept on, “We could totally go back to my place and I’ll make your happiest wishes come true.”

Now the Human actually laughed. Or, well, sniggered. Almost sarcastically. “YOUR place, huh?” he asked. Gi’zehl was about at her last nerve. An impressive record, even from when she worked at that old shithole back on Shil.

“Oh yea,” the Arttamine growled deeply. “Come on, sweetie, I’ll smear grape jelly all over you and then lick you clean.”

“That’s it!!!” Gi’zehl snapped. Enough was enough and that was WAY BEYOND enough. She glared at the Arttamine and pointed back to the door. “It’s about time for you to leave! You should be ashamed of yourself, for real! What would your father say?”

Then she looked down at the man, ignoring the fake look of shock from the Arttamine that couldn’t hide the smile behind it.

“I’m sorry for this, Sir. Would you like me to call security?” She glared up again. “Or maybe the militia?”

But the man only laughed again. “Nah, it’s okay. She’s fine.” Then he held his can of Blue Gold up and gave a wink. “We’ve been married for five years.”

The Arttamine leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek, leaving a bright red lip-print behind. “Happy anniversary, Love.”

fin (for now)

Previous

[First] / [Previous] / [Next]

-----

Felix had written more drafts of the message than he had for any school project in his life.

He would type a sentence.

Delete it.

Type another.

Delete that too.

At some point he stopped trying altogether and simply stared at the screen.

Delara’s contact was still open.

Underneath it sat the last message he had sent her months ago.

The message where he had told her they couldn’t speak anymore.

The message where he had told her he loved her and then disappeared from her life.

Felix swallowed and scrolled down.

That had been a mistake.

There were messages.

A lot of messages.

Are you there?

Felix?

I hope you’re okay.

Did I do something?

If I did something please tell me.

I’m sorry.

Then more.

How was your day?

Mine was boring. Mom made talar again. You would probably like it.

Rukna says hi. She still smells terrible when it rains.

My brother finally got married.

I wish you were here.

The further he scrolled, the fewer questions there were.

Eventually Delara had stopped expecting an answer.

The messages became little pieces of her life thrown into the void.

Things that happened at work.

Arguments with her sisters.

What she had eaten.

Something stupid Rukna had done.

A picture of the ocean.

A picture of the moon.

Sometimes nothing more than:

I miss you.

Felix stopped scrolling.

“Fuck.”

He rubbed his eyes with his left hand.

For months he had convinced himself that disappearing had been the right thing to do.

Mos’ralyt had made it clear.

Felix Alvarez Mejia was dead.

As far as Earth was concerned, he had died alongside Cecilia.

As far as anyone who had ever known him was concerned, there was nothing left to contact.

Felix Torres was what remained.

A dead man's face wearing another dead man's name.

And tomorrow Felix Torres was supposed to walk into a room full of people who would probably put a bullet in his skull if they learned what he actually was.

That was the job.

That was what he had agreed to.

But Delara wasn't part of the job.

She hadn't asked for any of this.

She hadn't asked him to disappear.

Felix looked toward the window.

Clouds had covered most of the moon now.

He looked back down at the OmniPad.

“Fuck it.”

He pressed the record button.

Nothing came out.

Felix stared at the little timer counting upward.

Three seconds.

Five.

Eight.

He stopped the recording and deleted it.

Record.

"Hey, Delara—"

Delete.

Again.

"Delara, I know I said—"

Delete.

Again.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Finally Felix opened his eyes and pressed record one last time.

“Hey Delara.”

He paused.

“I don't really know how to start this.”

Another pause.

“And I've tried, like… eleven fucking times now, so I'm just going to talk.”

Felix gave a weak chuckle.

“First… I'm alive.”

He immediately winced.

“Which is probably something I should've started with.”

Felix wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“I saw your messages.”

“All of them.”

His voice became quieter.

“And I'm sorry.”

“I didn't realize you kept sending them after I left. I hadn't opened this thing in… a while.”

That wasn't entirely true.

He had opened it.

He had simply never opened her.

“I wish I could explain what happened.”

“I really do.”

“But I can't.”

Felix looked toward the door of his apartment.

Nobody was there.

Still, he lowered his voice.

“There are things happening right now that I can't tell you about. Things that are bigger than me, and if I explain any of it I could put you in danger.”

He stopped.

Maybe he had already said too much.

Whatever.

Mos’ralyt was probably listening anyway.

“I just didn't want you thinking you did something wrong.”

“You didn't.”

“None of this was because of you.”

Felix felt his throat tighten.

“You were probably one of the few things I had left that was actually good.”

He stared at Delara's name on the screen.

“I meant what I said in that last message.”

“Every word.”

“I just…”

Felix stopped again.

His voice cracked when he continued.

“I couldn't take you with me.”

He covered his face for several seconds before forcing himself to continue.

“I don't know when I'm going to be able to talk to you again.”

“Could be soon.”

“Could be a long time.”

“I don't know.”

“And I'm not asking you to wait for me.”

“You have a life. You have your family. You have things ahead of you and I don't want you spending your time staring at a screen waiting for some text from a guy.”

Felix laughed quietly despite the tears running down his face.

“Which sounds pretty fucking dramatic now that I say it out loud.”

He wiped his eyes.

“But…”

“I miss you too.”

Felix stared out at the moon.

“And wherever I end up, whatever happens to me…”

“I'll always remember the weird purple girl who nearly suffocated me with a hug and decided maple syrup belonged on everything.”

That got an actual laugh out of him.

A small one.

But real.

“I hope you're doing alright.”

“I hope your family's alright.”

“And…”

Felix hesitated.

“I hope someday I can explain everything.”

“Maybe in person.”

“Maybe I'll actually show up at your door with that maple syrup.”

His smile slowly disappeared.

“But until then…”

“Please don't blame yourself.”

“This wasn't you.”

“It was never you.”

Felix took a shaky breath.

“I love you, Delara.”

“And I'm sorry.”

He stopped the recording.

For several seconds he simply stared at the SEND button.

This was stupid.

Operationally stupid.

Personally stupid.

Possibly catastrophically stupid.

His thumb hovered over the screen.

Then he pressed it.

SENT

Felix let his head fall against the wall.

“God fucking dammit.”

He didn't even make it two minutes.

His private communicator began vibrating on the table.

Felix looked at it.

Then at the OmniPad.

Then back at the communicator.

“Yeah, there it is.”

He picked it up.

“Phobos.”

“WHAT IN THE DEEPS ARE YOU DOING?”

There is was

“Took you longer than I expected.”

“This is not funny.”

“A little funny.”

“PHOBOS.”

“Alright, alright.”

Felix wiped the remaining tears from his face.

On the other end of the line Mos’ralyt sounded like she was actively resisting the urge to reach through the communicator and strangle him.

“You used a personal OmniPad registered under your previous identity to transmit an unauthorized message directly to Imperial territory.”

“Correct.”

“While currently operating under a fabricated identity.”

“Also correct.”

“While infiltrating a terrorist organization.”

“Three for three.”

There was silence.

Felix could practically hear her blood pressure rising.

“Would you like to explain what part of your training made you think this was acceptable?”

“None of it.”

“Wonderful.”

Mos’ralyt sighed.

“Do I need to remind you that nowhere in your assignment does it say send heartfelt messages to your girlfriend?”

Felix went silent.

Girlfriend.

Under literally any other circumstance he might have corrected her.

Tonight he didn't have the energy.

“Just give me this one.”

His voice had changed.

No jokes.

No sarcasm.

Mos’ralyt didn't answer.

Felix continued.

“I know what I'm doing tomorrow.”

“I know what happens if they find out who I am.”

“I know what happens if I screw this up.”

“And I know what you people invested in me.”

He looked toward the two urns sitting quietly in the apartment.

“But there's still some shit I'm doing for myself.”

Another silence.

“There’s a meeting tomorrow,” Felix said. “Don't know where yet. Don't know what's being discussed. But I'm in.”

Mos’ralyt remained quiet.

“So I'm doing my part.”

Felix took a breath.

“Let me have this.”

For several seconds there was nothing on the line except static.

Finally Mos’ralyt sighed.

“Just. This. Once.”

Felix closed his eyes.

“Make it count.”

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Already did.”

“Anything else to report?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Then get some sleep. You have work tomorrow.”

Felix looked toward his bed.

“Yeah.”

“Phobos out.”

He cut the link.

For the first time since waking from his nightmare that morning, the apartment was completely silent.

Felix placed the OmniPad back into his bag.

Whether Delara answered tomorrow, in two weeks, or never wasn't something he could control.

Tomorrow he had a meeting to attend.

Tonight, however, Felix Torres could disappear for a few hours.

He laid down.

And Felix Alvarez stared at the ceiling until sleep finally took him.

------------------------------

[First] / [Previous] / [Next]

-------------------------------

It is I who has returned!!

To anyone who is here after so long of me falling of the face of the earth. Thank You.

Was lately bitten by the writing bug again, but doctors say they are unsure how long it will last. Just said to make the best of it.

On another note, I changed the names around, don't ask me why, because I don't know.

Thank you to anyone who is reading this, and I hope to keep this creative burst running for at least a few weeks.

Credit to BlueFishcake and his original work.

Special thanks you

Plague Doc

---

"Hello, Canada, and Far Away fans in the United States and Newfoundland."

Welcome back to the show. I hope you enjoy.

Special thank you to Marbled for helping me come up with the backstory behind the mask. I like how it turned out. Thank you for the help.  

Previous / Part 1 \ [Next](Soon)

 

---

 

System: Torika

Planet: Helathuna

Operation: You Got A Problem

As Riley twisted through the back alleys of the city, the sound of sirens grew louder. He stuffed the mask in his jacket as he looked out over the curved glass structures and lit advertisements adorning them.

“Confirmed, you’re being tracked,” Rivet reported as she listened in on the local frequencies. “Your ride is tagged. I can’t clean it remotely, so I need physical access. Do you have a data spike or a tag eraser? I can either spike into its data network and remove it, or the eraser can fry any external trackers they tagged on the exterior of the bike.”

Riley fished something akin to a USB stick and plugged it into the motorcycle's port. “Data spike it in. Pushing link to your terminal.” He checked his thieving tools and began running the wand over the bike. He had to be careful not to get too close to anything important on the bike, as the wand emitted a powerful field that would fry most unshielded microchips. His gear was safe, but it was just his luck he would hit the bike’s brake system.

“Standby.” In the shuttle, Rivet tapped away at her commands while in the alley, Riley watched a scaly rodent of some sort dive on the remains of someone’s forgotten lunch. “I don’t miss fighting fuckers like you for food anymore,” he grumbled as he listened to the sirens growing closer.

“Got it,” Rivet coolly announced. “I stripped the tracking data off your computer and assigned it to an autocab nearby. I sent the cab North into the downtown section. It should draw off most of them.”

“Wiped it for chips, too.” Riley took the helmet from the back of the bike and stuck it on his head. It was too large and rolled around, but it would protect his face until he made it to the shuttle.

The rodent sank its face into the food as Riley found himself trying to find what would have been the best spot to sleep in the alley out of habit.

Eating food out of dumpsters and sleeping in the street went hand in hand, and he was thankful he didn’t have to do that anymore.

“Rog,” he began rolling out of the alley as he kept an eye on the Interior chatter, “Dancer, I need a pickup.”

“Got you. Hey, stay down,” he heard her add to someone away from the radio, “there is a construction site across the plaza. Head West and look for the cranes. I will swing by to pick you up.”

Riley clicked his radio in acknowledgment and rolled out of the alley.

 

---

 

The Shil’vati woman watched the motorcycle pass by the restaurant she was eating at, held her breath, and adjusted her horned glasses.

Had Reix’s squadron managed to track her down already?

The woman and her sister were assured that this would be easy. Just listen to the audio bugs Umbra had patched them into, and if Quinso started talking about Arcturus, hit the button. She looked across at her sister, a woman who simply went by Garnet these days, as she furiously tapped away at her dataslate and pulled her newsgirl cap lower over her eyes.

“Dammit, I can’t get into the servers. I think Reix has them shielded.” Garnet pushed her slate down in frustration. “They should have enough internal battery to last six hours, but I can’t access the remote kill features. Shit. Umbra is going to be pissed at us.”

“She’s pissed about everything these days,” Jasper remarked as she began wiping the burner omnipad that had been used to send the detonation signal. “You don’t understand. It’s important,” she repeated mockingly in her worst Umbra impression. “It’s the fate of the Empire, and I have a tiny chest. Mehmehmehmehmeh.”

“Whatever,” Garnet griped dismissively. “As long as she keeps her end of the deal, I get to move up in the rankings, that’s all I really care about.”

Jasper finally relaxed as she watched the Human on the motorcycle weave between cars, pause to take a quick picture of the plaza’s fountains. The rider then paused as he looked at a wallet, put a piece of gum in his mouth, and then handed the wallet to a nearby Militia woman in the hopes of having it returned. Finally he drove away. “I keep telling you there are too many people in front of us to get anywhere near a good position. Umbra would have to bump off some of her own siblings to get us anywhere good.” She took the battery and network card out of the device. “I help with this, and I get the old Ty’thala lands outside of Shil. They have been dead for centuries and P - OW!” She suddenly explained as her sister’s foot connected with her shin. “Sorry. Umbra said she will make sure I get it.”

Garnet made sure no one was listening. Them being so small in nobility had its perks, and even the Interior didn’t pay them much attention. She nodded to Riley as he rode past. “Shouldn’t we handle that?” Her question was innocent as the motorcycle began merging with traffic.

“Did you not read the reports Umbra sent? That guy has the Rakiri named Bow watching him. Do you want to fuck with that thing? Because I don’t? I would rather fight a grinshaw naked because at least it will kill me. That thing won’t. It will leave us both alive in the bad way. Seriously, Patron’s entire plan involved pissing her off to use her as a cruise missile. And to piss her off - and I cannot express how bad an idea it is - was to hurt the guy on the bike. And you want to hurt the guy on the bike?” She checked to make sure the phone that had sent the detonation signal was unrecoverable, and both got up to leave. “She sent us here to tie up loose ends and to observe how Reix and her team operate. So far they look rather well, dumb. They started looting the place and let one of their members get into an unnecessary fist fight with an Edixi guard. Then the Interior is reporting one of them did something with antigravity to get a chunk of metal back.”

Her sister nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t think they are a threat. Only Major Reix and Teach seemed to know what Quinso’s was up to.” She took a moment to reflect on her lack of knowledge since Umbra was keeping it need-to-know before she looked at her sister. “Do you know what she was up to?”

“Medical implants,” other stated with disinterest. She saved her copies of their work to disposable drives and blanked them from her local storage. “Umbie is going to be happy that Reix does seem to be trying to secure Human artifacts. It’s finally a pressure point we can exploit.”

 

---

 

The motorcycle rolled up the back of the ramp and to a stop while Rivet and Barns clipped safety straps to it so it would not fall over during transit. The bike would be stripped of identifying marks, cleaned in the registry, and kept as Riley’s loot. The markings, paint job, and decals would have to be removed, but he was going to keep the lights. It would make traffic easier during his commutes. As he stowed his jacket back on the rack, he took note of the squadron’s haul stowed around the bay. Firstly be noted the sudden addition of a miniature tropical jungle. Carry crates and a push trolley with houseplants were Echo’s contribution to the takings.

“Again?” Riley inquired as she took his canteen off his belt and handed it to her as she continued to carefully water the excessively dry foliage. It had become part of the ritual to help water them, and it was always funny to watch her skin ripple with colors whenever he helped her out. He nodded to Reix and handed her the belt with the artifact in it.

Reix took the belt, retrieved the case the object was secured in, and just looked at it.

“I humble myself for intruding, however, the legumes would have perished a wilted fate if they were not been absconded with us,” Echo firmly told him. The usual apologetic inflection was barely there at her disdain for how these people treated their houseplants.

Riley had not visited Echo’s house yet, but he had seen pictures of it. On most missions they went on, she would take houseplants that were neglected or would die if left alone. Usually she would take a single pot, and it was easy enough to transport. Those plants would usually end up at Echo’s house in either the greenhouse or planted outside if they were deemed non-invasive.

He could see Reix had opened the package and was now wistfully staring at the amulet she had secured. Pain, sadness, and hope crossed her face as she incessantly polished it like a bartender with their glass. She looked like she had a lot to get off her chest, or someone to just share the silence with. Either way, he sat down in the oversized jumpseat next to Reix and waited for her to speak.

Just as gravity started to fall away and weightlessness began to tickle across his body, she finally spoke. “I managed to save the entire set,” she said with a sad but triumphant smile. “I don’t know why the nobles hated these things so much, but they aren’t getting them,” she reassured herself. “Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and the one for the fallen. Eleven back with the rest now.” She nodded her head like she was giving her respect to ghosts he couldn’t see. “The one for the fallen.” She didn’t finish her thought as she tried to find the words for the respect she wanted to show.

“What did we snag?” Riley politely asked as he leaned closer to her. He watched her face and body language to judge if this was an act to avoid talking about whatever other reason she and Teach were here for.

Reix glumly began explaining. “Certain departments of the government have been trying to bury certain things about Human history to make the Empire look better. The Interior has been responsible for implementing it, but not all of us agree with them. It’s not just me, but a few seem to keep misfiling paperwork, and objects don’t make it to the incinerator. A few nobles I trust end up with them in their ‘personal collection’.” A pull of a smile tugged at their mouth as she paused for emphasis. “For safekeeping.” She ran a clean rag over the front of the metal plate. “It seems arbitrary to what they pick, but I have noticed a pattern. Any milestone that Humans achieved respectively to Shil’vati history, they are getting rid of.” She carefully handed the plaque to Riley. “They don’t like that it took the Shil much later in the tech tree, so to speak, to pull off space travel when you did it with slide rules.”

The plaque was concave, like it had been affixed to a pipe or tube. On it were etched two halves of Earth, and under it were the words:

Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon, July 1969 A.D.

He recognized the artifact.

There were rumors it had gone missing after the invasion, and only confirmed when a navy pilot friendly with the Dusters investigated the site at the request of her Human boyfriend. Allegedly it had either been taken by trophy seekers or removed by an Interior agent. One little disk of metal that was humanity’s defiance to the heavens, physics, and anyone who said they couldn’t. Earth’s tiny middle finger to the impossible and a kiss and a wink from whichever deity of luck had been keeping an eye on her misguided creations all this time. Years later, here it sat in the cargo hold of a human gunship, built with alien technology, rocketing back into the unexplored void of space for another giant leap in mankind’s adventure.

In his boss’ hands, the Lunar Plaque that had been left on Apollo Eleven’s lander sat glinting in the darkened ambient light.

As though Reix could read his mind, she finished the inscription from memory. “We came in peace, for all mankind.” Her words sat heavy on their private comm channel. “Humans have their problems, but when we made it to the stars, the first thing we did was proclaim it for ourselves and burned anyone who said otherwise. We said it was to preserve life, but all we did was announce to everyone that we were coming like a storm, that the stars would shine purple from divine right. We sent a warning and a threat. You made it to the stars and sent out messages telling others to come visit and play, explore, learn, and adventure.” She shook her head with sad acceptance. “I’m not a fool. This achievement was a tit measuring contest between two Earth superpowers. A propaganda tool - the most impressive billboard advertising their ideology they could muster.” She rubbed the surface of the plaque again as Riley waited for her to continue. “All too well, I know how people actually work. It’s just maybe Humans wouldn’t have turned out like us, and we stole that chance from them.”

Her body was rigid to maintain the appearance of composure, but Riley could see her slump in her chair - defeated.

She glanced at Riley and shook her head.

“It’s funny. You don’t see it, do you?” She asked him. “I have fought tooth and tusk to try to get the Empire to back down. I tried to get them to ask you all to join, show you what we could give as partners, and offer a hand on a trip through the stars. I begged, I pleaded, I stole, blackmailed, bribed, and ruined careers to get the results I thought would be best, but all I can manage is to save metal, stone, and oil on cloth.” She snickered. “You know, the royal court was trying to make it mandatory that all adult Humans had to go to ‘culture classes’ to learn how to be better citizens. I didn’t know about the Pacific coast, or I would send my communication satellites at them like missiles. I yelled myself hoarse talking them down on the mandatory classes, but it still ended with one of the daughters of the Tasoo Dynasty in a fist fight, blackmailing a high priest of the clergy, and paying off three different system governesses to get them to back down. In the meantime, the courts began putting in the groundwork to begin banning a few Human sports ‘to protect the children,’ and that caused another red zone to flare up.”

Her fist tightened into a ball as Riley began checking on her suit’s telemetry to read her elevated stress levels.

“I am trying to hold onto sand with broken fingers,” she morosely stated between deep exhales. “I think what pisses them off the most is you all made it to space and celebrated the victory by inscribing the names of those who should have been your competitors that died in the attempts to reach Luna. Even in defeat, you chose to honor them as well. You saw the stars, fired off Voyager into the deep black, and begged people to come visit and explore the unknown with you.” Reix leaned her helmet against the bulkhead and finally relaxed. “We made it to space and started painting everything fucking purple.”

Riley watched her chest deflate as she exhaled.

“You don’t see that though,” she repeated glumly. “You don’t see the potential Earth had before we showed up.”

The dry, musty heat of the closet came back. The one he was regularly locked in as a kid. Dust clogged his nose as he breathed in the stale air and gagged on the coppery bile in his mouth.

The sound of an aggressive slam of a car door and the flinch it brought as he heard the footsteps clomping closer to the house.

The slicing cold ripping through what little clothes he could steal, and the pavement poking him as he tried to sleep through another Canadian winter night. Sometimes hoping he made it through the night, sometimes hoping he just wouldn’t wake up. Sometimes not sleeping at all from the hunger.

The cold congealed paste of meat and condiments filled his mouth from the half-eaten hamburger he found in the trash.

The still image of the man who had thrown him in the van, glaring at him with a dripping jaw, and the wood handle of a claw hammer wrapped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles split open.

“Yeah, well, I never really got to see that part of humanity,” he reluctantly admitted. “I got the Humans painting everytime purple experience between a ‘Fuck You’ and boot to the face, so to speak.”

The mixture of old stained wood and miniature paints tickled his nose as he thought of watching Dovis painting in the guest cabin.

The joyous choir of laughter from his friends as they simply sat on the observation deck of the lighthouse and chatted about nothing.

The warm squish of Elinee’s body as they lay on each other, and the strong arms of Dovis as she held both while they slept.

The delicate food from Erna coated his tongue as Sumar insisted he have his fill.

The welcoming smile of Elinee and her mesmerizing mercury eyes were now joined by Dovis’ mishchivous grin.

“Earth and her people are still my people.” The words flowed true, but he forced them out so as to break his stupor. “I promised to defend it, and I will. I am not allowed to stop fighting for them, but her people have never treated me well. I am just a tool that you use and throw away to them.” A keystone crumbled, bringing his reality crashing. “Reix, you aliens have treated me more as a Human that Humans do. You might hate, and fuck it I sort of do too, the Empire but at least they don’t leave a twelve year old child on the streets for years, waiting for a grown man OD on heroin so he can take his half eaten food.” He looked at he jacket and thought of the mask. He stood to retrieve it before sitting back down with the woman. “Maybe it’s the same here too. Noble pricks fucking over the little guy. Forgetting each move they make can drown us living day to day. Maybe I’m doing this for all of them now. Never know when a little prick dropping out of the sky to even the odds is a good enough reason to keep going for’em, I guess.”

He looked at the lunar plaque again before he handed it back.

She held up a hand to stop him. “Keep it. Consider it a housewarming gift until it is time to return it to Earth,” Reix firmly instructed him. “Something about it feels like you should keep it. ‘We came in peace,’” she repeated. “You might not see it in yourself, but it suits you.”

Riley withdrew his hand and looked at the plaque he had been entrusted with. It was one of Humanity’s greatest achievements; it was his to protect now.

‘For all mankind.’

“Thanks, Boss,” he kindly said as he slipped the emblem into his bag. He would need Elinee to make a protective case for it later.

Reix merely nodded before speaking again. “Do you know why the Tasoos and the Assembly keep us around? Let us have all the power we do? It’s because we are needed. We can’t stop every threat coming at us, but we can slow a lot of it down.” She looked over at the little man with a grime realization. “We might be raving assholes, the heralds of uncontained shitfuckery, and jesters whose job it is to flick the nose of everyone who forgets. Deep down all of us are good people, and that is why they trust us. Not now, but I have a proposition for you when we get back. I will explain it and what Teach and I were doing here but I want you to think on this; if you had to trust someone with damn near unrestricted power, what sort of person are you picking? I hate myself for it, but I think I have a pick. A slightly different offer than the one I made before.”

She was about to make herself comfy for a nap when Riley showed her the mask. “So as part of the loot I found this thing in a safe. I was using it as a mast, but it sort of looks old. Any idea what it is?”

Reix leaned over and looked it over for a moment before she straightened up. “I recognize the face, but,” she took the mask and felt the tool marks as she ran her fingers along it, “it has to be a replica. The real one went missing nearly a century ago.”

She looked at him with a now clear smirk of enjoyment as she got to speak on history. “Are you familiar with Sevastuta?” He noncommittally nodded his head. “So they have a place called the Mystery Theater. You wear masks, the actors have masks, and they all represent something. Their stuff is replicas - they have to be due to time - but each mask represents an idea, a person, or theme.” She slightly raised the mask to emphasize she was talking about the one he found. “I recognize this one. This one represents - well it doesn’t translate well - but he is called The Shepard, or The Nemesis of the Goddess’ Acre.” She smirked again when she saw his eyebrow raise while trying to understand what she had just said. “The name and story changed over the years but he started as a warning to not eat any of the wildlife you find in graveyards.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment before she simply explained, “I think you call it Prion Disease.” She shifted the mask and looked at it again, taking in the ancient lines from where the clay was shaped. “So madness, savagery, and consequence. A smiling face of someone you think you knew coming back to punish you for taking from the dead. As time went on they took on the ideas of leaving the dead and their treasures alone as the literary works evolved.” She handed the mask back. “Visious consequences for your transgressions. So you understand what is going in their report, right?”

Riley cackled, “So they disturb the grave of Human accomplishment, and the next thing they see is a cloud of smoke, with this face charging out at them, screaming to give it back, and howling like a banshee. Flying around the yard like a fucking demon before stealing their own shit and flying off into the night. Did…did I just become some fucking cryptid or urban legend?”

Reix joined in his laughter. “That agent is going to have to admit that she found the Apollo Eleven plaque, and then our folklore’s avatar of “Fuck Around And Find Out” came at them in the original Nemesis mask.” She gave his shoulder a playful squeeze. “Ahh,” she let out a satisfied sigh, “always remember your entertainment value out weights the paperwork you cause.”

“I figured you would be pissed I did that,” he finally admitted.

Reix halfheartedly waved him away. “I was but realistically if you got arrested, we would just tell her to let you go. Say something about needing the plaque as evidence and taking it with us.” Her laugh subsided as a serious look. “I lost my cool and didn’t think it through. We could have handled this better, but they knew we were coming and I didn’t anticipate it.” An idea came to her mind before she unassumingly asked, “Do you get what I mean.”

Riley set the mask on his knee before choosing his next words, making sure the rest of the squadron wasn’t listening. If Reix wanted them to know, she would have addressed them. It was an assessment of his observational skills. After everything that happened, one detail stood out to him as he looked down at his sore chest where he had shielded Riex from the detonation.

“That bomb in her head was Arcturus tech, wasn’t it? It wasn’t supposed to be a weapon, it was cleanup. A blast only strong enough to kill her.” He saw Reix nod in agreement and waited for him to continue. “They knew what we were saying. Meaning they had the place bugged, meaning either our ECMs were being overridden or,” he avoided glancing at her to see her reaction, “you wanted to feed intel and didn’t activate it.”

Reix held her reactions as she watched him continue to work, but she did give him the big leading question. “What else?”

“The person that set off the bomb is on the planet,” he finally concluded. “They need to have picked up the signal and sent their own. That means they are on the planet.”

“And I led us into an ambush,” Reix solemnly added. “I think the artifact was bait. Hit it with the tag eraser and keep it in a scan shield bag for now until we can give it a proper search.”

Riley did so and returned to the mask.

“So what do we do with this?”

“Well the last blackmarket auction it was at, it went for around twelve million credits. If you want to sell it, I can find a buyer.”

“Fucking how much?” He looked back at the clay mask as he pictured diving into that many credits and swimming. “All for a thief’s mask? From one thief to another, I suppose.”

He looked at his payday. A famous item from Shil past, stolen by a Human, sold for profit. It was poetic. They took something that didn’t belong and Earth sent their own Nemesis to reclaim it. A folk hero who stole from the rich and inspired the people. Then he looked at the Apollo plaque again and the woman who tried to save it.

By his estimates, she had spent a small fortune recovering Earth history to preserve or return it. She could have kept it all for herself or sold for a profit, but she didn’t.

She was starting to rub off on him.

He nudged her with his foot. “Hey, where or who would we hand this off too?”

Reix looked up from her slate. “There are a few natural history museums on Shil. They are not suppose to, but they pay for lost items like this. It won’t be a lot, but there are some private collectors that I know will keep it safe in their own vaults.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

Reix couldn’t help but crack a grin and politely took the mask from him, retrieved one of the empty hardcases they used for evidence from the shuttle and laid it inside. “I have a few ideas of who we can give it to.” She waited but Riley didn’t stop her from taking it and sealing it away. She gave him a familial shoulder nudge. “I am proud of you. You are going to make a lot of people happy with that decision.”

The paired silently a moment longer to see if the other wanted to carry the conversation, but neither did. Finally, Reix gave him another tap on the shoulder, silently as she keyed the radio to the squadron’s channel. “I am going to take a nap. Wake me when we get to ship. Echo, you are in charge.” The radio clicked off at the same time as her head slumped against the wall.

Riley thought about stretching out too, when Dancer called back to him, “Doc, I need you up here.” Her cool pilot voice had an uncharacteristically off pitch hiss to it.

Fearing the worst, he grabbed his medical bag and jogged to the cockpit. He was afraid he would see her bleeding or that she had shrapnel poking out of her flight suit from ground fire he was not aware of. Instead he found the blonde haired Scandinavian quietly bobbing her head in time to whatever song he could make out coming from her headset.

“Are you alright?” He inquired as she shifted into his professional worksona. “Are you injured?”

A flash of confusion lit up across her face. “What? Oh, no. It’s well,” she closed the cockpit door, “you were trained like a 18 Delta Green Beret, right?”

“Yeah,” he responded as he began to reach for a fresh pair of gloves to do a medical inspection. “I can do a bit of optometry, dentistry, and veterinary.”

“Yeah I need that last one,” she said in her usual calm pilot voice.

Riley blinked in surprise. “First off, well done for both fitting it, and taking the knot. Secondly, don’t worry, we have a medical grade sanitizer so everything will be sterilized if you need it to be. Thirdly, this happens all the time. Elinee has anatomical correct toys of mythological creatures and this is not the first time they get stuck.” He closed his eyes as he remembered one too many late night calls from their old podmate, Slip. “You have my word I will keep quiet on the condition that you have the decency to at least not say you slipped on the shower. So fucking help me I will cover your entire fucking bathroom in anti-slip, and grip spray.”

Dancer decided not to make a comment about certain redeemed offers from his girlfriend to her.

Without saying a word about a certain custom print job Elinee had done for her, Dancer moved her foot off the box near the base of her seat and let the lid be pushed open by the creature inside. Looking down at him, Riley could see what he thought was a matted and hungry Rakiri child inside. The dapper little fellow’s dark eyes gleaming in excitement at meeting someone new. His dark chocolate coat still had a choke collar clamped around its neck with the remains of a cut chain hanging still attached. On closer inspection he could see where someone tried to cut the collar with bolt cutters but stopped, most likely from not being able to find a safe purchase with the jaws on the cutter. His little tail began thumping against the plastic box as he saw Riley before going back to shoving his face into the MRE bag Dancer had put inside for him.

“Ohitsalittlepuppy! Where the fuck did you get him?” He asked in a high pitched, honest bewilderment as he knelt down the pet the dog.

Dancer began banking the shuttle toward their mothership. “I rescued him from the noble’s house. You would not believe how many times I have seen nobles get pets from Earth as a fashion statement and then dump them when they are out of season. Mark my words, it’s going to be owls next after the Harry Potter Shil’makes. I spotted this little guy on my thermal camera so when I set down to load the de Milo statue, I grabbed your bolt cutters out of one of your assault packs and got this little guy out.” She bent down to give the dog a scratch before returning to her controls. She looked at him before making sure the door was closed so none of the squadron could hear. “I didn’t say anything because I was hoping to get him on the shuttle before anyone noticed.”

“So what do you need? What do you need? A-wittle-fubby-foo,” Riley spoke in a calmly soothing tone while he carefully snuggled the puppy to cover for his inspection of the little creature. “I haven’t seen one of you little guys in half a year!”

“Well, I need a few things, actually.” She readjusted her grip on the flight controls to calm her nerves as she couldn’t help but remember all the times she asked for help since leaving Earth only for it to be held over her later. It was a risk and she hoped it wouldn't come back on her again. “First, can you do a quick look to see how they are doing?” Her usual calm voice wavered further as a mix of disappointment in the state she found the dog and worry for the little puppy’s future. Riley spotted the Human pilot twitch as she had a sudden realization. “Skítt, I live on base. I don’t even think! We can’t have pets on base.”

Riley gave the animal a quick inspection while he listened to Dancer try to formulate a plan for hiding her new dog.

“What if I hollow out a stuffed toy and he wears it like a suit or something?” She offered in an ever increasingly quick spew of ideas. “Maybe try to explain it’s a robot or something? Elinee is working on those surgical arms, right? Those have a reach and a lot of flex so maybe I can convince people that those are actually his tail?”

Riley could tell his friend was starting to overthink and couldn’t help but smile. A smile that faded as he felt the sharp teeth nip at his thumb. “Firstly, he looks healthy,” He finally concluded. “He needs food, a bath, and a professional dog hairdressing thing. As for hiding him,” he scrunched his face as he thought of a rule to exploit, “give it a minute while I work something out.” He pulled out his data slate and spotted the design sketches Elinee had sent of the new ‘surgical arms’. “Oh, and, those arms she is working on are based off something else she is working on and are for costume tail assemblies for disguises. The surgical arm idea is actually another sub product she spun off it.”

Dancer concentrated on flying but added, “Surgical medical equipment being an after thought is sort of wild. What was the original thing she was working on?”

She caught the knowing glance, the faint smile, and the cute blush growing on Riley’s face.

“Oh, no, she is making a tentacle sex toy, isn’t she?” Dancer ambivalently squawked.

“No,” he reassured her in a sad reassurance. “She is making an entire room of them with AI controlling them.”

Dancer shifted in her seat. “Heitt,” she admitted, equally disappointed in herself.

The shuttle began its approach to the destroyer’s waiting hanger bay as the mothership’s crew began preparations to jump to sub light as soon as the squadron landed. Riley finished the inspection and placed the little fellow back into his crate.

Dancer looked down at him as he smushed his face into the food again to eat. “That’s good he is healthy, but what about keeping him on base?” Dancer pointed out with equal parts relief and growing worry at that unthought of part of her plan.

Riley shrugged appreciably before putting on a more clinical tone, one that signaled both chicanery and fraud was about to take place. “You sound stressed. You should get someone,” he paused for emphasis, “with the appropriate medical credentials - like a doctor’s assistant who wholeheartedly lacks the ability to give a shit and is seeing a chance to do their second favorite thing - to write you a referral for an emotional support animal. You just need someone in medical to approve it,” he explained in a voice seeped with snark as he pulled up his data slate with fraudster’s glee.

Dancer chuckled in nervous relief. “Isn’t that a bit blatant even for you?”

“If we could monetize how much I don’t give a fuck, I could personally get the goverment out of debt,” he happily sang in response as he worked. He looked up from the data pad. “Give me a few days to get this done. He should go to a vet for a proper checkup and they will hold him for observation for a few days. That should give enough time for the paperwork to go through.” He gave the dog another snuggle after finishing. “He appears to be a little lethargic due to a gut problem though. Probably by being fed fatty meat this early, but that appears to be his only problem as far as I can tell.”

“That’s good, umm,” Dancer squirmed uncomfortably for the first time Riley had seen her, “but, umm, hey, how much does a vet cost? He, well, my bills might be going up again soon.”

He had forgotten about Dancer’s financial issues. Her ex was pushing for discovery about where her latest money had come from, even more so after the courts closed the investigation due to the glaring warning sign that was the money being transferred from a black budget account, they stopped helping him with his investigation. He turned around to look at the pile of loot he thieved from the raid and calculated he could negotiate for. Luckily he wasn’t using street level fences as his reputation and underworld contacts had connected him with a few of the bigger players.

”The cigars will likely be sold off individually so knock about forty percent off the price unless he could find someone willing to buy an unopened box, but I can sell those myself to Marines for sixty percent of value. The jewelry will cost about a thousand to get reset and broken down. They can make maybe ten, but with expenses and time, I think I can negotiate seven for them. Documents are a toss up depending on what Intel is on them. Let’s round up to one twelve and use that to pay off the city clerk's office and to get the fees dropped on the vet.”

Happy with the string of favors it would take to get a local vet he knew to see Dancer for free, he clapped his hands together before speaking. “I can source one through my contacts. I found a few sealed boxes of Erbian cigars and a couple bottles of aged Helkam boutak. I can trade them to get a veterinarian to take a look.” Dancer was about to protest, knowing how much the type of liquor he stole went for, but he dismissed her concern before she could even speak. “It’s just going to sit in one of my stashes until I could find a seller anyways. I will give them a bit extra to get in their good book for the future. Besides, my ‘I know a girl’ list in the animal field could use an increase.”

The puppy lulled his stubby face out of the MRE bag and into an empty sandwich container of water to wash down his dinner. As the thirsty boy splashed his water about, Riley reached for his canteen before remembering he had already emptied it for Echo.

“Hey, thanks, Doc,” Dancer whispered in relief. “I hope this little guy turns out okay.” She flicked a set of switches on the overhead panel as she glided the opening hangar door of the navy ship. “I didn’t really think. I just saw him and knew I had to take him back with us.” ”You also just made your life more complicated,” she chastised herself as the gunship touched down in the hangar and the outer shutters closed. They all felt a slight lurch as the destroyer accelerated toward the nearest suitable FTL jump point to jump them home.

Dancer watched as her new dog drank his fill before rolling over on his side, content with his first full belly, soft bed, and being warm in a long time, and cozily wagged his little tail.

“I just hope his squished nose doesn’t mean health problems for a chocolate lab,” Dancer ruffled his fur. “My uncle had a lab, and my sister trains working dogs. Although labs usually have a much more pointed snout. Less fluffy, too, now that I think about it.”

“A lab?” Riley looked at the fluffy ears and short muzzle as he sat down in the cockpit’s jump seat and strapped in for some rest of his own. “I don’t think this guy is a lab. I think that is a Newfoundland.”

With an almost comedic slowness, Dancer turned to him and lifted her helmet’s visor up, and then removed the gold-framed, gold-tinted aviators she wore underneath.

“You mean the bear dogs?” Her words slow and deliberate. “The giants we throw out of the back of the helicopter to rescue drowning swimmers?”

“Yep,” Riley answered with a dull finality as he too understood the size of a fully grown Newfoundland dog she would have to deal with in a few years.

Dancer exhaled a slight whine as she thought of what little finances she had after her brutal alimony payments. A worrying knot began to tighten in her gut when she felt the wet nose of her new dog poke her hand. Whether he sensed her stress, was impatient in demanding cuddles with his new owner, or both, his presence felt comforting. She picked him up and tried to pull some of the matted leaves out of his fur.

“Það er allt í lagi, Bub. Við munum komast að því,” she calmly reassured him in Icelandic. She looked over at the medic sitting next to her - trying to ignore the adorable ‘aww’ noises he was making.

She smiled.

“Thanks, Doc.”

Things seemed to be finally looking up for her.

 

---

 

Mission Update Log Port_Term_1-2 Connection … Connection Established

Operation: You Got A Problem: Success

Loot Acquired:

26 000 loose credits

26 various houseplants

1 Interior (former) Motorcycle Ducara Brand

1 Apollo 11 Landing Plaque

1 Sertta Home Fabricator

3 Venus Statues

1 Patio Furniture Set

1 Original Mask of the Shil’vati thief known as Miss Fortune

3 Cases of Erbian Natural Cigars

2 Bottles of Helkam Boutak

1 Dog (Adorible)

2 Phone numbers of arrested guards

1 Interior Agent Wallet (Returned to local bureau and agent before exfil)

---

  Previous / Part 1 \ [Next](Soon)

 

---

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. This last little bit was supposed to be a side quest to build up the bad guys but it got away from me.

---

 

Chapters 9 through 15 are now available on Youtube!

[Storytime with Kaz] (https://www.youtube.com/@IgorKazevenikov?)

[Chapter 9] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLxEWL7ZxAU)

[Chapter 10] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AUoy-jpqNtY)

[Chapter 11] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ui64D0MERAg)

[Chapter 12] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mctAg-NO90)

[Chapter 13] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jH5Yj0XyhVM)

[Chapter 14] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CizfMDCAeb0)

[Chapter 15] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__D925AiL50)

Good day, everyone.

I must sincerely apologize, as I could not finish the chapter in time. Between work and sickness, I lost about 4 days of writing and it won't be ready until next Saturday morning.

On the plus side, I have finished editing 7 audio chapters (Chapters 9 through 15), and they will be released on youtube today and/or tomorrow. Unfortunately, there won't be an accompanying stream, as I don't have the time.

Once again, I am terribly sorry about missing the post date, especially after such a cliffhanger.

Read Chapter 1 Here

Previous Chapter Here

My other SSB story, Writing on the Wall, Here

If you're in Chicago this weekend, come out to Windycon! It's a science-fiction convention that has been running for fifty two years and I happen to be there. Can you find me? Who knows? I could be anywhere.

*****

The Rolling Stone lifted without much fanfare. Once the mail and supplies were delivered, there wasn’t anything keeping Stace on Nix except momentum and a fear of the project falling apart. His talents, what little there were, would be better spent elsewhere.

In the end, he left Jeremy, owner of Prairie and Valley Power, and Jake, former Army Corps of Engineers, in charge of the project with instructions that they should defer to the Nixian Convocation on any issues. They both understood and accepted it, though for different reasons; Jake took it as a given considering Nixians needed their own agency while Jeremy was afraid of the the natives shutting down the only Human colony off of Earth. It came to the same thing either way.

His quarters on the Stone were nice, the design timeless without being ultra modern or falling back into the cabin again. It was also easily big enough for him, Elera, and Jel’si. That they were rooming together never seemed to be in question, though there were a few empty cabins on the trip home. The pilots, Jel’si’s two bodyguards, and Wittin each had their own, Pelic and Dominic were bunking together, and none of the other employees wanted to cut their contract short and leave early. Despite the ship being significantly smaller than The Unladen Swallow, it felt a lot less crowded.

Next stop, Shil.

He left the cabin and made his way to the cockpit, the patter of tiny feet following him. His two new pilots were competent, professional, and clearly still excited to be doing their job even after spending a couple weeks getting used to the craft. He cleared his throat to make his presence known before speaking.

“How are we looking?”

Ariel, the dark skinned woman in the pilot’s seat, gave him a grin. “Everything in the green, Captain. Throttle’s opened up and we’re moving to the phase corridor. Should be there in about eighty six minutes.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“When you’re not doing captain stuff, we won’t. Right now, you’re inspecting the operation in your role as owner of the ship, correct?”

“I guess. What should I call you two then?”

“If you want to be formal, helmswoman and assistant helmswoman. Less formal would be pilot and copilot. You don’t want to call us by name because we’ll be swapping duties back and forth. If you order Chandra to do something while I’m acting as helmswoman, that could cause confusion when we don’t have time to spare. You should address the position, not the person.”

“Makes sense.” While they spoke, Pomme was making her way over to the two women. She found a spot next to the copilot’s chair, stood on her hind legs, and let out an unsatisfied burf at being ignored.

Chandra, a soft spoken woman, sighed. “Sorry, girl, but you shouldn’t be in here.” She gave Pomme a single pat on the head, then scooched her back towards the door while throwing Stace a halfhearted glare.

“Fair enough. Pomme.” He pointed next to his feet and the pup returned to stand next to him. “Wouldn’t want you getting distracted during trouble.”

She nodded. “Not that we expect trouble, right?” The question was accompanied by a grin.

“Never,” Ariel added with a matching smile.

“Any issues getting used to the ship?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nah, though we’re spoiled now for anything else. This thing is a monster.”

Chandra added, “outside an atmosphere, at least. I can’t imagine what would happen if you opened up the throttle over a city. Probably light the sky on fire.” She sounded pleased by the idea.

Stace grimaced. “Let’s not do that. I know a bright red Buck Rogers ship isn’t exactly low key but this is supposed to be a secret mission.”

The two pilots suddenly looked more somber. Chandra’s voice was suddenly tense. “We spoke to some of the locals. It’s a really good thing you’re doing.”

“We’re doing,” he corrected. “Having more pilots is a huge help.”

“Yeah.”

Figuring there wasn’t much more to say, Stace let out a “well, let me know if you need anything” and left them to it.

He found everyone else sans Wittin and Jel’si’s girls in the cargo area. Someone had set up some gym equipment but they were all ignoring it in favor of a folding table and a deck of cards.

“Everything good?” Elera asked.

“Yep. Should be ready for Phase soon.” She pulled out a free chair for him and he sat down. “What are you playing?”

“Five hundred. I learned it while I was doing some work in Australia,” Dominic explained.

“It’s two against two,” Jel’si lamented. “You can take my spot if you-”

“Nah, I’m good. Happy to just sit and relax a bit. Anybody seen Wittin?”

“He said he needed some time to himself,” Dominic explained. “Don’t think he’s handling leaving Pip behind very well.”

Stace sighed. “I get it. I wish we could take her, but the Shil government is adamant that no Nixians leave the planet. Plus I worry that she’s not going to develop properly without being around other juveniles. Us Humans don’t do well if we grow up without socialization. I’d hate for her to end up stunted.”

The other man nodded. “I get it. Hopefully he’ll perk up when we get to Shil. He can spend some time with his family.”

“That reminds me.” Jel’si’s voice was tight with nerves. “I need to take care of a few things when we get there. A few meetings and what not.” She glanced back and forth between Dominic and Pelic. “You two mind keeping an eye on Stace?”

“I’m not a child,” he groused.

“No, but you are a high value target. Anybody who wants to get into the PRI or has it out for House Chel’xa might consider your visit to Shil a valuable opportunity.” Dominic glanced over at Pelic. “Give me a clipboard and I could play assistant. You want overwatch?”

She nodded. “I’ve still got that bigass laser Sammi made me, but that’s probably not great for this application. I think playing the standard bodyguard would work.”

Dominic’s smile was disarmingly pleasant. “Don’t worry, we won’t get in your way.” 

“I’ll be there,” Elera cut in, her voice tight with anger. “Keeping him safe is my job.”

Jel’si held up her hands placatingly. “I don’t doubt that, but you’re also the one with the Imperial Writ. You’ll likely have to handle other things and it’s better to have a couple people who can dedicate themselves just to keeping him safe.” She lowered her voice a little. “Not trying to step on your toes. I didn’t mean it as a slight or anything.”

“Girls, please.” Stace waited until he had their attention. “I’m sure I’ll fuck up enough for everyone to get a piece.” He meant it as a joke but instead of laughter everyone nodded somberly.

—

Ven’esh hadn’t really expected survival on Earth to be all that difficult. The weather was fairly pleasant (nowhere near the blistering cold or boiling heat of her homeworld, though being ship-born she had never been there) and the forest felt like it should be teeming with life.

Of course, that was three days ago. Three days ago, she thought this would be easy. Now, stomach cramping with hunger as she stumbled her way through drifts of wet, rotting leaves, she was beginning to have second thoughts.

There was food to be had. She could hear it, chittering and jumping from branch to branch. She just couldn’t catch it. A motion out of the corner of her eye drew her attention and she watched a small creature with a bushy tail nearly the same length as the rest of it staring down from a tree. There had been several such critters but this one seemed to be mocking her with its presence.

Carefully, cautiously, she began to climb. Her claws dug into the rough bark, her attention focused on the potential meal. It wasn’t a particularly difficult ascent, but she moved as slowly as she could until her muscles screamed with the effort of holding still and she shook with exhaustion. She tensed as the creature skittered backwards, moving farther out of reach. This was the moment of highest risk, of do or die survival. 

She pounced.

The animal nimbly jumped from the branch, landing on a lower limb of a completely different tree. Ven’esh sailed through the air, for a moment untethered from the ground by anything until she scrambled and managed to hook an elbow around the newly-vacated branch.

It snapped.

Thankfully, there were plenty of other branches to arrest her fall. By the time she made it to the wet earth, battered, bruised and coated in mud, she had slowed down enough to not immediately die. Her whole body ached but as she wiggled her fingers and toes one by one and flicked her asiak she came to the shaky conclusion that nothing was broken.

As she lay there, trying desperately to catch her breath, she stared up at the gray, leaden sky. A fat drop of water managed to dodge the canopy above her and landed directly on the tip of her nose. Another pattered against her chest. Another.

Aside from a few jobs, Ven’esh had spent her entire life on ships. While rain wasn’t a new concept to her, it was horribly unpleasant. It could also mean a death sentence. If her fur became water-logged, she would lose its insulation and feel the full brunt of the coming night’s cold.

The smart thing would have been to build a shelter, to get a fire going, but she needed to be where the prey was. She figured that her fur could keep her warm and getting food was a priority, not doing some makeshift engineering. Staying in motion seemed like the right call, but now she simply had to hope that she would survive long enough to reevaluate that decision.

This was no time for sulking. She pulled herself up and got moving (well, stumbling) towards an area of rocky scree. There were fewer trees there, but she might be able to find an overhang to protect her from the coming storm, perhaps even find some rocks that sparked when you hit them together.

What she found instead was far more promising. There was a void in the rock face easily big enough for her to fit inside. She approached quietly, pressing up against the wall as she slipped closer. The air in the cave was rank with the scent of animals and she poked her head inside just enough to listen.

A breath, deep and slow, followed by a long pause, then another. Caution told her to keep listening but excitement was winning the fight. Here was shelter and a meal in one.

Crouching low, she occluded the cave entrance and tried her best to look inside. Her vision adjusted quickly and enough light scattered in around her to reflect off a pair of eyes, low to the ground and closely spaced. A second set peered at her and from one of the creatures a squeaky, scared grumble began to sound.

A much larger form moved in the darkness, the rhythmic breathing broken now with a sharp intake and a bone-rattling roar. Ven’esh threw herself backwards as the shape charged, landing on her back and sliding down the escarpment. Any potential pain was instantly discarded as she stared up at what could only be her death.

It was a monster, twice her mass and covered in shaggy brown fur. Its head was large with two round ears atop it and a snout covered in lighter hair. It waddled out of the cave, its terrible claws clattering on the rock as it moved on four powerful limbs.

Ven’esh scrambled backwards, moving as quickly as she could while giving the animal her full attention. Her palms and the pads of her feet accumulated cuts from the jagged stones but she paid them no heed. She had to make distance, get far enough away to stand and run.

After an aborted attempt at a charge, the monster stood on its rear legs, revealing a fuzzy belly and a height that matched hers. It roared again and, for a moment, Ven’esh thought that would be the end of it. She pulled herself to her feet and locked eyes with the creature as it stood outside its den.

Then it dropped back on all four limbs and charged.

Learning that her opponent was not just larger than her but faster was terrifying. One thought played in her mind, repeating over and over as she juked around trees in an attempt to lose her pursuer.

I’m the prey.

For a moment she thought herself clever, scrambling up a nearby tree with all the speed her aching muscles could give her. Then she learned that her opponent could also climb. She jumped to the ground, tumbled and rolled in the mud, and continued to run.

She wasn’t able to lose the horrible monster until she made a desperate, mad scramble down a rocky cliff slick with the falling rain. She reached the ground, collapsed into the mud, and simply waited for a death that did not come.

—-

“What was that thing?” Tissi asked.

She was off duty as Commander Rem’s aide but, being at the PRI and thus in the middle of nowhere, had absolutely nothing to take up the rest of the day. Out of a desperation for sapient contact more than anything else, she decided to go to the Planetarium. There was a movie night scheduled but it wasn’t supposed to start for a couple hours.

Instead of Human action movies, she found the scout squad using the massive dome to project the telescopic video feed from a drone. She arrived just in time to watch a Pesrin fall out of a tree, then found herself some popcorn and settled in for the show.

“Bear,” one of the scouts replied.

“Grizzly,” another added. “She’s lucky it gave up so easy.”

The thought of that creature left Tissi feeling ill. “That was easy?” 

“I don’t think it was trying to catch her, just keep her away from the den. They can run fifty kilometers per hour.”

Tissi considered the wilderness surrounding the facility. “They don’t live around here, do they?”

“Nah. Bit farther north. I looked into it when we first met Stace; people seemed impressed he survived up in Alaska for so long so I wanted to see what he was dealing with. That right there is one of the largest predators on the continent, and it’s not the only dangerous thing in that area by a long shot. Poor girl’s got her work cut out for her.”

It took nearly twenty minutes for the Pesrin to seem to realize she wasn’t dead and sit up. Then, as they continued to watch, she noticed the nearby stream. She stood in the rain, watching carefully, then left and returned with a big rock. She chucked it into the water, dove after it, and dragged herself to the shore holding a wriggling fish not much bigger than her hand.

“Must be desperate,” one of the scouts pointed out. “Pesrin hate water.”

“And she’s probably going to give herself parasites,” another pointed out as Ven’esh began devouring her catch raw.

“Why are you doing this?” Tissi asked. “Even if she passes whatever test you’re giving, Rem’s never going to allow her on site again.” She was pretty sure the Empress’s Hand Sinister weren’t complete psychopaths, her own ‘test’ notwithstanding, but this just seemed like torture. 

“Call it an investment in the future. Pesrin can be very useful and, once she knows she’s not hot shit, she’ll be in the right mindset to start actual training. Even if we can’t use her on Earth, there are other options.”

“And what’s to stop her from running at the first opportunity?”

“Aside from the fact that there’s nowhere she could go?” The other woman mulled it over. “The perks, I suppose. It’s not like we’re going to work her with no pay or anything. It’ll be a cushier life than she had before.”

“When she’s not being shot at,” another amended.

—

Everyone was back to work and Δv had the day off. If she was somewhere with actual civilization, that would be a good thing. She could go into the city or go dancing or rock climbing and generally have fun. Since she was on a frozen ball of sadness, her options were far more limited.

The Humans were mostly good fun, but they treated her a little skittishly. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was a Gearschilde or they just didn’t like her; hopefully the former. Her personality wasn’t that bad, was it?

She could study, but that felt too much like work. There had to be something she could do to unwind. Blue was busy digging out some trenches for a sewage system so Δv didn’t even have someone to race.

She ended up going to one of the new garden domes. It was smaller, recently constructed, and mostly consisted of sad unpopulated trellises while they waited for the ground to warm up. The Teyga often spent time there; even with their ship’s power plant up and running again, it would still be a while before they could all move back.

That was a cringy idea. Δv couldn’t imagine spending years cooped up in a ship. She needed to move around, see new things. It would be maddening. The fact that every Nixian on the planet, unable to handle the cold, was basically in that same situation wasn’t lost on her. They probably needed entertainment as much as she did.

There was a group of the natives visiting the Teyga when she arrived. She recognized the blue and white skinned librarian (mostly by all his jewelry) talking with a young man with wrinkled brown skin and a bright pink flower poking out of his hair tendrils just over his right ear.

More interesting was the game being played off to one side. Δv bounded over where a young Teyga (she wasn’t sure the gender) was sitting across from a white and blue Nixian boy. He was one of the ones who was always visiting the veterinarian to see the dogs and livestock. Keta?

Between the two of them was a strangely textured hexagonal board. It was filled with dimples, five across each edge for sixty-one total. Long trench slots formed a border and many of the dimples contained marbles, either black or white. As she watched, the Teyga pushed a line of three white marbles forward. This pushed one of the black marbles off the board entirely and into the trench.

“Ah hah!” The Nixian boy moved two of his own marbles, pushing one of his opponent’s now vulnerable pieces off the board. The Teyga countered with a defensive move, pulling the white marbles away.

They both seemed to notice Δv then, with the Teyga smiling shyly while Keta declared proudly, “I’m winning!”

While she didn’t exactly know the rules, Δv wasn’t inclined to agree. There were three white marbles knocked out to one black, but the board position didn’t seem advantageous. White was a concentrated blob at the center while black was divided into multiple small, stretched out groups. Sure enough, the Teyga moved three marbles to push two back, knocking another black off the board and isolating another two for easy points in the coming turns.

For a moment, she thought the Nixian was going to flip the board. He made a fist like he was going to slam it into the table, but stopped himself before actually doing it. He was starting to breathe rapidly, shoulders trembling.

Δv put on her friendliest voice and asked, “can I play next? You’ll need to teach me and I won’t be very good, but it looks fun.”

Keta sighed and relaxed. Situation successfully diffused. “Yeah, okay.”

*****

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This is a fanfic that takes place in the “Between Worlds” universe (aka Sexy Space Babes), created and owned by  u/bluefishcake. No ownership of the settings or core concepts is expressed or implied by myself.

This is for fun. Can’t you just have fun?

The Man in the Spire: Book 1, Chapter 29
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Ones Loss, Ones Gain
--------------

Troy Rechlin - Major of the Peacekeeper Union Corp
Grand Nanhu Palace - Training Yard

There it was. Troy's only salvation to get off this horrid rock of a planet.

The JX-20 Barracuda lay ruined at the far end of the training yard, the warbird that was sent to distract the enemy now lying broken. Its nose had been torn open and the rear jammed against the wall. Its right wing sheared away in a clean diagonal cut. Black smoke rolled from the broken fuselage into the storm clouds while orange flames gnawed at the wreck, hissing beneath the downpour.

The bird may have been grounded and unable to fly, but the cockpit remained intact and that was all that mattered. Whether it was still functional was a gamble, but it was far too late to second-guess it now.

A hundred yards. A hundred yards of mud-slick stone, torrential rain, and training equipment ranging from weapons to training dummies littered the yard. It was all that was left between him and freedom.

Jin Yun, the psychotic assassin, still lay in the mud, defeated and no longer a threat. But their fight had drawn a lot of attention. His escape was unorthodox enough to spare him some reprieve, but it wouldn't be long until they found him again.

Troy broke into a desperate sprint, the Homewrecker gripped tight in his one remaining hand.

The actuators in his legs screamed beneath the strain. Hydraulics whined. Something in his thigh ground against a part that refused to move, flooding his vision with damage warnings he no longer had time to read. His missing arm threw the rest of him off balance, sparks jolting every time rain found the exposed wiring at the stump, each stride threatening to pitch him face-first into the mud. His emergency repairs were failing along with a collection of new damages. The COG chassis was taken to its absolute limit.

Rain streamed down over both his synthetic face and exposed alloy skull, mixing nanofluid and water on his lips into something the sensors deemed bitter. The Barracuda never left his sight. He would not give up so long as he could move even an inch.

"Commander," Hordak spoke within his skull. The AI's voice remained level and mercilessly calm. "Enemy forces are converging on the training yard. Estimated contact in forty-five seconds."

Troy did not need the warning, nor the overlay map showing dozens of blinking red dots converging on him. He could already see them. Figures charged across the battlements above, outlined by the glow of braziers. Guards shouted and pointed down into the yard as copper gongs clanged. From behind came the pounding of armored feet, soldiers spilling out from every doorway to the training yard.

The entire castle knew where he was now.

Lightning cracked overhead, and the courtyard flared white. One broken tin man limping across the length of a football field as dozens of armed figures close from every side. Darkness swallowed the world once again, but what was seen could not be unseen.

Troy pushed harder despite the strain. Something snapped in his leg, the joint locking up and nearly useless beneath him. He stumbled, catching himself just in time by driving the shotgun's barrel into the mud like a cane. Not proper form, but he couldn't afford to stop to clear it. He hauled himself upright, adjusted to the new limp, and shook the mud from the gun the best he could. If it could function after being underwater in pond scum, a bit of mud wouldn't stop it. Or so he hoped, knowing soon he may need to use it.

The downed aircraft grew closer. Close enough to see the illumination of the cockpit monitors inside. It was still functional. He was going to make it.

Soldiers poured from an arched doorway near the wreck and spread outward, forming a ragged wall between Troy and the cockpit. More appeared along the flanks, closing the gap from both sides.

Troy didn't slow. Water seeping into the cracks caused an uncontrolled twitch in his synthetic eye, a small, stupid thing to notice with soldiers closing on every side. There was no clean path through, no gap left to slip into, and no conscience left to spare for the men he'd have to go through. He was running on borrowed time, and these men didn't need to be cultivators to end it. A half dozen mortal hands were enough to drag him down now, enough to tear his freedom away and doom him to this world for good.

There was no choice.

The Homewrecker rose in his remaining hand. The targeting system washed the guards in red, marking every body that stood in his way.

The first soldier broke from the line, whether for glory or the mistaken belief that this would be easy. Troy proved him wrong with a squeeze of the trigger.

The guards spread into a broad semicircle, weapons raised but movement restrained. More arrived behind them, voices overlapping into one shapeless roar, yet no one wanted to be the next body to fall to the gun in his hand. The wall of soldiers broke apart as he swept the barrel across them, each man flinching back rather than close the gap. They all wanted a piece of him but knew it could spell instant death.

Troy hated that it had come to this. Just feral survival and desperation. These soldiers had not dragged him from his world. Most had never even heard his name before tonight. They were all following orders, nothing more. But what they were told was to keep him trapped here until the end of his days. They were between him and his freedom, and there was no time left to dwell on what that made him.

Troy backed toward the Barracuda with the Homewrecker leveled across the line. His damaged leg dragged through the muck, threatening to collapse beneath him.

Almost there.

Another man broke from the line, mistaking Troy's retreat for weakness. His HUD flagged the motion a half second before Troy's hand moved on its own, the gun swinging and firing. The soldier's arm came apart in the blast, and his scream rose over the storm.

"GET BACK!" Troy roared over it. His damaged vocal system turned the command into a distorted metallic bellow, more machine than human. The guards recoiled, but the line did not break. Troy angled the weapon above them and fired into the storm. The thunderous blast echoed between the castle walls. Several soldiers ducked instinctively while fragments of shattered roof tile rained from a nearby gallery.

"I HAVE MORE THAN ENOUGH!" Troy shouted, sweeping the gun across the crowd, having the smarter ones either back away or duck down. "GET BACK, OR I WILL BURY EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU SAVAGES!"

That wasn't true according to his smart link. He had only three rounds left. It was the only bluff at his disposal to keep an entire army at bay.

The guards continued to close, advancing in short, hesitant steps. Spears and swords remained pointed toward him as the semicircle tightened. None wanted to charge, but each seemed willing to let the others push him forward. Like wolves surrounding a wounded animal.

"Commander, cultivators are converging on your position," Hordak warned. "You must leave immediately."

A series of locks clacked inside the Barracuda. Emergency power flickered through the ruined aircraft, and the canopy lifted several inches before the damaged hydraulics seized. A boarding step extended from the fuselage with a metallic snap. Troy reached the wreck and wedged his shoulder beneath the canopy. He cursed as he pushed on the window, opening just enough space to climb through. His remaining hand kept the Homewrecker trained across the advancing guards.

A boot found purchase on the boarding step. He hauled himself up just as another guard found his courage, charging through the rain to catch the Homewrecker by the barrel. Others surged in behind him, emboldened now that someone had closed the distance.

The weapon wouldn't budge. For half a second, Troy saw the face beneath the helmet. Young. Terrified. Teeth clenched with fear, or duty, or both.

Whether by reaction or need, the shotgun fired at point-blank range. The blast tore through the guard's shoulder as he cried out. His hand stayed locked on the barrel, and with his full weight now dragging Troy down, Troy was forced to let go of his only means of self-defense or risk being pulled into the angry crowd below with it.

He cursed but seized the cockpit rim with his now-free hand and pulled himself inside. A damaged leg scraped across the fuselage as the last of his strength forced a ruined frame through the narrow opening. Another set of hands closed around a boot before the legs could follow. A heel answered back, driven into his face with the strength of a bucking horse. Metal caved beneath the blow, the guard's grip failed, crashing back into the men behind him, giving Troy just a hair of breathing room.

He hauled his legs the rest of the way in with everything he had left. The canopy slammed shut, seals locking with a heavy magnetic thud, cutting off the rain and reducing the storm to a muted roar beyond the transparent armor.

Forcing himself upright in the cramped seat was a fight on its own, but it was done, followed by slamming his palm against the restraint control as instructions on what to do flooded his HUD. The emergency metal harness snapped across him in an X shape, cinching tight against his ruined torso. Another locked around his waist while clamps secured his legs against the ejection cradle.

"Minnow will be in position in two minutes," Hordak said, as a crimson countdown appeared across Troy's vision.

Outside, guards swarmed across the wreck.

Spears, swords, and fists hammered against the canopy. The impacts rang through the cockpit but left little more than pale scratches across the roof. The Barracuda had been built to survive high-speed debris and direct weapons fire. Ordinary steel would not break it. But as always, the guards were not the real danger.

Something landed on top of the jet with enough force to rock the wreck with a heavy creak. Troy's head snapped upward.

A shadow loomed over him, legs coiled, muscles ridged with Qi, rain dripping from a mane braided in charms. The unnamed horsekin crouched with a sadistic grin, predatory and unhurried, like a cat that had cornered a mouse and now was just having fun. Something about that twisted delight struck him as familiar. He'd seen it before, on the dog sisters. The thought lingered just long enough to wonder if there was a connection, and then it settled into his gut like a stone.

The woman rose, her eyes glowing faintly, veins of energy crackling up her arms as she drew back her fist.

She struck.

The cockpit shuddered as her fist crashed into the windshield, leaving a scuff mark. Troy's HUD flickered warnings in his vision. The woman blinked in surprise, clearly expecting brittle glass, not ballistic-grade polycarbonate. But the surprise did not last and was turned to anger, as if the window dare not bend to her will.

She struck again. And again. And again.

"Fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck, shit!" Troy muttered. His remaining hand worked across the controls, following the highlighted specs, fumbling through switches and shattered panels. He disengaged the safeties one by one and forced the ejection system into its maximum-altitude profile.

The canopy strength was holding, but not for much longer. Each blow rang through Troy's frame as though the cultivator were striking at him directly. The pale mark widened into branching fractures. Hairline cracks spread across the windshield, joining one another like veins of frozen lightning.

Lightning tore across the sky, and for a moment, the rain seemed to slow, droplets hanging as though caught mid-fall, trembling beneath an invisible pressure.

The cultivator froze with one fist raised before falling to a more placid pose, still standing on the canopy. Around the Barracuda, the guards fell silent. Men who had been hammering against the aircraft only seconds before started backing away, lowering their weapons and clearing a wide path across the training yard.

Troy knew why. In this world, everything obeyed whatever was stronger than itself. And there was only one other being here that could silence an entire castle army.

Yao.

The magistrate stood atop the far wall, framed between two towering braziers. Fire twisted behind her while rain swept across the battlements in silver sheets. Cultivators gathered along the wall on either side, but none dared stand close. Guards formed ranks next to the dragon with shields raised, ready to defend their master from any danger. A lone servant remained behind the magistrate, trembling beneath the strain of holding a broad umbrella against the storm. Any rain that slipped past the canopy hissed into steam before touching Lin Yao's robes.

"60 seco—" Hordak began to inform, before a burst of static tore through the private channel as the magistrate spoke, as if she would allow nothing else to be heard but herself.

"It is over, Troy Rechlin! You have nowhere left to go."

Her voice boomed through the pressure-sealed cockpit, drowning out the rain and thunder. Troy had no idea how she reached him through layers of transparent armor and composite plating, let alone how she'd managed to disrupt his MiFi comms entirely. He felt every word in his chest cavity, along the data-scrambled edges of his human mind, and through the diuranium bones of his frame. This Yao and the one he'd first met were two very different beings. And something about how easily she'd done it told him this was barely a fraction of what she could bring to bear.

"Your attempt was noteworthy," Lin Yao continued. Her lip curled beneath the dragon mask, caught somewhere between mockery, reluctant admiration, and barely restrained fury. "But it was foolhardy from the beginning. This world has denied your escape at every turn."

Her gaze never left him. The deadly draconic amber eyes drilled into the cockpit, as if it could melt the toughened glass with but a thought. Lin Yao raised one hand. Her fingers curled slowly, and the air warped around her palm as though the entire Barracuda might crumble within her grasp.

"Fate brought you here to kneel before me and raise Grand Nanhu into a new age," she said. "Yet because I am merciful, I offer you one final opportunity to correct your mistake."

The pressure inside the cockpit deepened as her hand tightened. This was nothing like her previous speeches, commanding but hopeful. This one was harsh, cold, and out of patience. She was turning the air into a weapon, and the plasteel around the jet crumpled under it. The aircraft was feeling less like an escape route and more like a tomb. It was a scare tactic, but the sudden explosion of a monitor nearby said otherwise.

"Come to me willingly. Help me bring my lands to the prosperity I know you can give, and you will be rewarded beyond any mortal alive." Amber light flared behind the eyes of the mask. "Refuse, and I will make you regret that decision for the rest of your life." She finished with a low growl, one that vibrated through his core, the kind only a monster could make. "There would be no further offer."

Anger laced her voice, but something else hid beneath it. Something Lin Yao was too proud to admit, especially now in front of so many of her subordinates.

Need.

She needed his submission to be willing. Needed Troy to look upon everything she represented and choose to kneel and to give all without a second thought. The Lily. Its power. Its technology. His mind and body. All of it surrendered freely, as though he were merely another vassal served under the dragon's rule. Maybe some part of the ruler's offer was sincere. Perhaps she truly wanted to save a city and people who desperately needed what Troy could provide. Maybe leaving them behind when he possessed the means to help was selfish.

Under different circumstances, he might even have stayed.

But Lin Yao had already answered the question for him. Every word from her was a leash disguised as a false choice. No room for negotiation, no version of this that ended in anything but obedience or a cage. And even if he went willingly now, what happened the day he finally pushed back? What happened when the dragon magistrate decided to declare war with his knowledge or turn the Lily's own resources into something far worse? He doubted his own "eternal reward" came without some dangerous strings.

Freedom was the only door still open to him, and it was closing fast.

Plus, sincere intentions did not make her any less of a bitch. Damn woman couldn't even say please.

Troy's gaze dropped to the counter. Twenty seconds. Troy exhaled through practiced exasperation. He prolonged as long as he could. Everyone waited with bated breath to see how this night would end.

Then he slowly raised his remaining hand toward the canopy. The guards watched. The cultivators watched. The Magistrate watched. The world watched.

In what might have been the final ten seconds of his freedom, Troy extended one long metal finger to it all.

The gesture did not belong to this world yet the meaning needed no translation. Outrage spread through the guards. Several shouted insults. The cultivator on the canopy clenched her fist, ready to pull the man out of the sealed seat so she could tear him apart herself.

Lin Yao's raised hand lowered by a fraction, trembling with the effort of not letting it fall further. The amber light behind the mask dimmed for a breath, her head dipping as though the rejection cost her something, only to return once more, bright as fire itself. The decision was made, and it was now time to pay.

"Bring him to me."

That one simple quiet order unleashed the courtyard.

Guards roared and surged over the wreck. Spears, swords, and fists crashed against the Barracuda in a furious rhythm. The horsekin cultivator kept pounding at the canopy, and the hairline cracks were finally giving way, bits of glass raining down with each strike. It was hardly recognizable as a canopy anymore. Her knuckles had split open and bled, but the violent smile on her face said she couldn't care less. She drew her fist back, drawing Qi into it, ready to crack the hull with one final blow.

Three seconds.

Troy flicked the switch, swapping the ejection sequence from closed-canopy to open-seat. He dropped his hand to the lever.

Two.

The cultivator let out a cry, the fist coming down with all the strength.

One.

He pulled the lever.

Explosive bolts detonated around the jet. The canopy blew free in a violent shockwave, launching into the storm. The cultivator was caught off guard, her body flung high into the crowd along with the battered windshield with a strangled cry. Guards reeled back, stumbling in the spray of shattered steel and fire.

A fraction of a second later, the ejection cradle ignited. The force crushed Troy into the seat.

The ruined Barracuda dropped away beneath him as the ejection seat hurled him upward through smoke, lightning, and rain, one more mortal daring to touch a sky this world had reserved only for its gods.

***
Magistrate Lin Yao

A thousand years ago, when Lin Yao had been little more than a child, a mortal craftsman had lashed himself to a wooden chair fitted with crude fire-powder rockets and declared that ascension was mortals' destiny too. For one impossible moment in time, he climbed above the rooftops, reaching for a sky no mortal had ever touched.

Then the rockets failed. Flame consumed the chair, and he fell back to earth in a trail of smoke and fire. Nothing remained but scattered ashes and the laughter of those who had gathered to watch him fall.

The folly became known as the Ashen Ascent, and cultivators told it for a thousand years after as proof that mortals were bound to the earthly realm. To toil the soil, to mine the land, to obey the ones who protected them from things they could never hope to fight. Nothing greater, no matter how hard they reached, with the only hope that the next generation of their family might be blessed with the fate they were denied.

So when Lin Yao, Magistrate of the Língmu Province and a cultivator nearly a thousand years old, watched the outsider Troy erupt from the ruined metal kite in his own rocket-powered chair, she saw the same act of defiance as that long-dead fool. If this was in someone else's home, she might have laughed at the irony. Like many born among the Heavenly Realm, she'd always found the old tale amusing.

She wasn't laughing now.

Below her, the courtyard dissolved into chaos. Guards scattered away from the wreck, servants screamed, and cultivators clutched their weapons in awe and confusion as the rocket-chair left a trail of smoke and vanished into the storm above.

Yao scarcely noticed any of them.

Contempt and rage filled every corner of her thoughts. Her key to knowledge beyond their realm, a being she searched for over 500 years, the bearer of wonders no cultivator or artificer could reproduce, was escaping through a mockery of the Ashen Ascent. Worse yet, they might succeed.

No.

The imperial mask of Cang tightened across her face as Qi erupted from her body.

Its translucent scales brightened as her composure cracked. Horns broke through her brow, curling back to match the mask's own, until it was impossible to tell where the dragon ended and the woman began. Pale light burned within the narrow eyes. The Qi spread along her cheeks and jaw until her own features vanished entirely beneath the face of her lineage.

Power awakened inside her. A power she had not called on since the wars that subjugated these lands, since she had cleansed them for her Empire with her own two hands.

It surged through her meridians and poured into the stones beneath her feet. Rain flashed into steam around her body. The air recoiled as the pressure of her presence rolled across the battlements. Those closest to her stumbled back, and those too slow simply froze, some already gasping for air that would not come. Few who witnessed this power lived long enough to speak of it.

Then Lin Yao launched herself from the wall. Stone exploded beneath her feet. The battlement split apart, throwing guards and stones. The servant holding her umbrella vanished into the rain with a startled cry. Tiles ripped free from nearby roofs as the shock wave washed over the castle.

Lin Yao never looked back as she rushed to the heavens. Lightning wrapped around her legs and hands, driving her upward at incredible speed.

Her robes snapped in the wind as she tore through the storm, her crimson tail twisting behind her. Blood red scales gleamed along her neck and hands whenever lightning illuminated the clouds. Each pulse of energy carried her higher, the air cracking beneath her feet as though she climbed an invisible staircase.

The outsider would not escape. Not after he'd torn her sacred palace apart, not after he'd left her strongest broken and scattered. Worst of all, he'd humiliated her beneath her own roof.

He would never escape her. Not now. Not ever!

The clouds parted as she gave chase, following the long smoke trail and bright light of the rocket.

The fire beneath Troy's seat sputtered and died. The metal chair continued upward for several heartbeats before losing momentum. Small panels sprang open around it. A compact canopy burst from the rear and filled with air, jerking the seat upright to slow its descent.

Lin Yao's eyes narrowed behind the fused dragon mask as the distance closed between them.

Another trick to defy the natural order. Another insult disguised as ingenuity. It only drove her harder.

She gathered lightning beneath her feet and drove herself higher. Pale-yellow arcs crawled across her arms and snapped between her claws, drawing energy from the clouds around. Wind and rain bent away from the pressure surrounding her until she hung within a hollow pocket in the storm.

The seat descended toward her, slow and out of his control, while she flew to meet him face to face. The outsider looked barely alive.

One arm was gone. His remaining hand hung against the restraints crossing his ruined chest. Sections of his metal body had been torn open, exposing wires and blackened machinery beneath broken armor. Half his synthetic face had burned away, leaving the rigid framework underneath visible through melted material.

And yet he looked directly at her, still wearing that same stubborn defiance she'd seen from the moment he first arrived within her palace. That expression, once an amusing gesture, now enraged her beyond reason. Even the gods above would have gone mad trying to break something so determined to never bend.

She rode the clouds like they were hers to command, closer to the dragon ancestry than the woman now. Her spine bowed low, shoulders coiled forward, every motion heightening into something no longer quite human.

"I told you, you foolish man!" she hissed. Troy continued to fall, bound helplessly within the rocket seat. The dragon reached for him, hand inches away, fangs bared, lightning exploding from the mask's eyes, ready to drag him back into her clutches for good.

"You! Are! Mine!!!"

Something moved above them at tremendous speed.

A shadow crossed the clouds, broad and black against the flicker of distant lightning, and a deep mechanical roar rolled through the storm behind it. Another flying kite, smaller and thicker than the one that had crashed in her castle, blasted toward them with terrifying agility. It screamed past from above, distracting Yao for just a moment. She never saw the cable, the hook already trailing loose beneath its hull, hunting for its mark.

The hook snagged the canopy.

Lin Yao lunged. Her claws closed, a nail scraping the edge of the man's ruined clothing.

The cable went taut.

The pull tore the seat from her reach and dragged him along, faster than she could follow.

"NO!"

Lin Yao drove herself after him, lightning bursting beneath her feet as she lunged for the escaping seat. Even at the kite's blazing speed, she could close the gap. She still had a chance to end this right!

That is, until a large firework trailing white blazing fire screamed towards her from the lake below. She was caught off guard. It came in too fast for her to dodge. She barely had time to brace.

Every ounce of her momentum had already gone into reaching Troy, and there was nothing beneath her feet to push off from, no way to twist free in time. The blast took her head-on, swallowing her whole in fire, the shockwave punching the clouds outward around the point of impact.

She twisted against it anyway, forcing Qi back through her meridians, clawing for enough lightning to catch herself before the earth did it for her.

It was enough to save her, but not enough to spare the tower beneath her. Lin Yao struck the roof of a guard post hard enough to collapse its upper tiles. Rafters cracked beneath her feet, and fractured stone spilled from the battlements into the yard below.

Steam rolled off her body. Lightning crawled across the dragon mask and leapt between the broken tiles surrounding her. She staggered upright, already gathering herself to give chase again. But the kite was already halfway across the lake, and there was nothing left to catch.

The mysterious lights of the Silver Lily came on, illuminating the lake once again. Its immense metal petals stood open, cold light shining from within, as though the impossible structure were welcoming its master home.

The vessel disappeared into the darkness, and Troy was gone.

Lin Yao remained motionless atop the ruined tower.

Below her, the palace burned.

Sections of the inner wall had collapsed. Smoke poured from broken windows. Soldiers dragged the wounded from the training yard while cultivators searched helplessly through the wreckage. All across the castle, thousands waited to learn whether their magistrate had reclaimed the outsider who had humiliated them.

Lin Yao's hands curled into fists, her claws biting into her palms.

The dragon mask strained across her face as uncontrolled Qi rolled outward. Roof tiles lifted and shattered around her. Braziers flared blue. Across the castle, mortals and cultivators collapsed beneath the weight of her fury, gasping against a pressure they could neither see nor escape.

The pressure grew so great that a fracture split the dragon mask across its right eye.

Lin Yao threw back her head and roared.

The cry belonged to the dragons of her bloodline. It rolled across Grand Nanhu, shook the palace to its foundations, and crossed the black waters of Língmu Lake before breaking against the open petals of the Silver Lily and beyond.
------------------
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Author notes:
There it is, guys! One long night for our boy! Despite the odds and opposition, he did it! Now let's see if he really made it.

I may return later to improve that Lin Yao part. Any suggestions on how to improve it are welcomed!

See you around, Outsiders!

Just One Drop, Book 5: Azure and Scarlet Ch 264 - Bad Days

‘Hannah McClendon, galactic superspy.’

The words were a comforting mantra in the back of her mind. Faced with a problem? Her first thoughts were to observe the problem, stay calm, and kick it if possible. Her second thoughts were the reminder that yes, she was now a galactic superspy – although everyone was somewhere in the galaxy already, it just sounded cooler – and she’d had the intensive training needed to deal with almost any situation. Her third thoughts picked out a course of action, made use of her confidence, and any non-kicking plan was put into motion.

It was muscle memory, and you focused on the job – not being a hundred feet high on a tightrope. Even so, this wasn’t some backroom auction of stolen goods on Shil. There wasn’t a Tide Pool where she could run to for safety. There was no murder kitty with her right now. This wasn’t even the capitol on Shil, where she enjoyed the legal protections of citizenship. No, this was flying without a net. If she was caught, there were even odds that Khelira would disavow everything and cut her loose.

The Shil’vati would send you to a mining colony on an ice planet where you froze your tits off. The Nighkru liked it cooler, and their idea of prison sounded worse. Not being noticed was Job Number One. Don’t be noticed. Do not get caught. Do get something nice for the Tide Pool in the way of shiny goods and intel. Definitely get some shiny intel for the nice alien Princess who’d forgiven her last shenanigans, though forgetting was out. Khelira had a memory like a steel trap.

So, today’s task was getting the assets needed. She’d brought some nice toys onto the station, like monowire hidden in her bra strap and the thermite putty buttons with the nice contact glue. Customs was seriously light with the Embassy goods, but these were things that wouldn’t show up in a scan. Tools she’d need in future jobs, this put her training to work.

This was only doing some shopping, but staying untraceable was the top of the list.

Hard currency wasn’t as bad as electronic purchases, but Consortium hard currency was still super traceable. She’d exchanged currency at the spaceport, and all those notes were in her name. The money hidden in her baggage had been purchased from a Helkam returning across the border, and here she was… Cha’liz Theom, an ordinary Helkam out for some shopping… On Pharos… Where she hadn’t seen any at all. Still, nothing would stick out like going Human, and the cool temperatures made it a breeze. She wore a full-body jumpsuit in teal, with a high-collared jacket. The heated jumpsuit came with gloves, so she only had to apply the grey makeup, put in the contact lenses, pull on a wig, and off she went. The outfit was very concealing, but Helkam hated the cold more than anyone. Good tradecraft wasn’t practiced just some of the time, unless you wanted to contract a good case of being dead. The new grey makeup promised to be easier to get off, and the jacket’s high collar and the gloves let her forgo the scales.

There were plenty of places to shop in the Habitation ring… like, a lot. Nestled between the big company buildings and residences, open-air shops lay tucked in every plaza. You could get everything, but Hannah had checked them out. They could afford to be open. Cameras dominated every corner, and there were probably gizmos to prevent theft. Intending to pay, but not wanting the footage, she headed back to the spaceport. There was a shop in the registry named ‘Baggage!/Containers!/Snarg!’, and while the port had cameras, buying bags there would look pretty mundane.

‘This is fine. This isn’t even a crime.’

Even so, she could feel her insides fizzing. This was the first step in a very tentative plan, and every link that couldn’t be traced was a step toward success. She pushed the antsy feeling into a box and followed the directions on her pad. Three floors up and one corridor later, she flopped down in a chair when a Human guy wandered out. He was carrying a package in one hand, and leading a ginormous toad with the other.

Despite the casual pose, Hannah thought furiously. It looked like Tom Steinberg. It had to be the Professor’s friend. How many middle-aged Human guys wandered around with Rhinel? Sure, coincidences happened all the time, but a lifetime of experiences – and Eli - had taught her never to trust in them. Eli was putting that charming smile of his to work these days – he had a gift for sales – but growing up, that smile had always been a thin cover for ‘What? Who, me? I never!’, just enough hard work to make Mom and Dad want to believe it, and Levi always tying himself in a knot to accept the burden or blame.

Well, not her, and while her second and third thoughts had a lot to say on the matter, her first thoughts focused on the problem. Steinberg wasn’t on the diplomatic mission. Shil’vati women comprised the Interior and he wasn’t with the Tide Pool. That left few options for his presence, and it might be valuable information to Khelira, but finding out wasn’t her business.

‘If I tail him now, she might make it my business… but if I don’t… it could become Duvari’s.’

Keeping the Agent busy could be useful.

She was ready to fake it for a while, but he walked around the corner, so she made her way inside.

The shop was a profusion of baggage, nets, luggage, boxes, and transparent tubes that flushed colored smoke and made a muted ‘pooong!’ sounds. Incomprehensible doodads were neatly arranged on shelves, spilled to the floor in heaps, or wandered in circles under their own power. Colors fluoresced throughout the shop, and it took her a moment to realize the effect came from a wall of baggage that physically changed colors. Standing in the center of the entry was a table holding one of those funky old novelty plasma globes, like Mr. Peterson had in his science classroom.

‘Ok, so you customize your own bag, and have it follow you around. That’s pretty shui!’

Not so shui was the lack of help. The shop was devoid of people, which didn’t suit her ‘get in and out fast’ plan, but maybe the clerk was in back on their lunch break. Hopefully the wait wouldn’t be too long. On an impulse, she studied the globe. The swirling lights were pretty, but she yelped when she touched it. Despite the gloves, the globe was hot and gave her an electric shock, but that was nothing.

“UNHAND! VEGETABLE! / CAN I HELP YOU? / UNCERTAINTY!”

Hannah strangled her squeal of surprise. Jumping back as the table rose on hidden treads, she tripped on a suitcase wheeling behind her and fell on a pile of plush handbags. The globe became a frenzy of sparkling lights as a mechanical crab claw emerged from a port.

Hannah stared as it came toward her.

She assessed the situation. ‘Be shui… You’re Hannah McClendon, superspy,’ said her second thoughts. Her third thoughts pointed out that she’d flopped on her butt in a pile of beanie handbags. While super embarrassing, it was probably fine.

The claw stopped about a foot away. A year ago, this would’ve been pure nightmare fuel. “INTEGRITY COMPROMISED? / CLAW YOU UP, I? / CONTRITION!”

“Umm… No, thanks. I’m fine.” So, not an art display. The retractable wheels had fooled her, but the clerk was a methane breather. Their kind seldom came to the Tide Pool, but she kicked herself over the screw-up, got up, and remembered to act her role. Helkam were many things; you never turned your back if one was mad at you, but they’d always be nice. “I’m so sorry! That was so clumsy of me. Please let me help?”

The claw wavered a moment before retracting. “RELIEF! / MUTUAL NON-LIABILITY! / REJOINDER!”

Having second and third thoughts about things was just being careful, but bifurcated hiveminds were weird. She picked over the words… “Oh! Yes, I hope you can help me. I’m looking for some bags.”

The base did a little waggle like it was looking around, which seemed odd for a bowl of fireflies. Maybe it was just for show, but who knew? “MERCHANDISE! / VEGETABLE! / INTERROGATIVE!?’

Ok, so… yeah. Methane breathers sometimes came to the Tide Pool as part of some group doing who knew what business - they never used the other services, which was kind of comforting. At least someone was having less sex in the Pool than she was. Probably. Anyway, business. She swiped open a close-up of the white bag, and held up the picture to the lights, feeling fairly ridiculous. “I’d like to buy a case like this one, please?”

“MERCHANDISE! / GIFTING CONGRATULATIONS! / CELEBRATION?” The claw emerged and pointed at a corner of the shop.

Hannah cocked her head at the display. The boxes there looked right, but she shook her head. “No, I need something like that but bigger?”

“ERROR! / QUERY! / INVERSION!”

Ok, that made no sense. At least the general idea was there, and she checked the picture.

“No… I need that same box… but bigger? You know?” She threw her arms wide. “Bigger!”

The clerk screamed in terror and wheeled away.

‘Hannah McClendon, superspy, is not having a good day.’
_

Good communication skills made work a joy.

Tom Steinberg really believed that. True, sometimes you did it with a chat over a beer, and sometimes you did it with a little napalm. In the end, what mattered was that the message was received and understood.

Moothze the Twooze didn’t disappoint and got things rolling for the both of them.

The Twooze pushed back from her desk, scattering printouts everywhere. Apparently, she was a hoarder. ‘Wha- Wait! Who the shronk are you!?”

Things were looking up. The woman had gone from shock to denial to acceptance in a few seconds. Okay, she was going to be pissy, but the important part was clearing away the debris and getting down to business.

The office had no other exits, and Tom leaned against the door for show. “Moothze! Baby! Bubelah! While I’m here on the station, I’m your new best friend.”

“Great! That’s just fantastic.” The feathers on her ruff rose and fell a few times in agitation. “So whadda I have to do to get you outta my quills and on your way?”

The power of self-interest. You had to love it when dealing with blackmail. “Moothze, my girl, you are in an outstanding position to do a good deed that will reverberate throughout the galaxy for years to come. This is your lucky day!”

The Twooze gave him a look. “Did you practice that in a mirror? Are you gonna tell me what I’ve gotta do to get rid of you, or are you gonna stand here blowing sunshine up my vent? Also, what the fuck is that thing?’

And now they were opening a path to ‘acceptance’. Who said being married to a therapist didn’t have benefits? Married life had refined his whole approach to situations like these. “That’s Shanky, and don’t you worry about him. Right now, you want to worry about me.” The Rhinel was staring at the animal control posters and kicking his flippers. That was harmless, so hey, all good. “Look, Moothze, you’ve made a new life for yourself, and nobody wants to mess with your good thing, am I right? A cozy office. A sealed station without a lot of pesky wildlife. A few backhanders from the restaurants on the middle ring…”

The last had been a long shot, but the Twooze’s bravado evaporated faster than an ice cube in a supernova. Yeah, that was something to think about. Step one, get the intel he needed on his target. Step two, establish a pattern. Step three, make the grab. Note to self, find out from the Twooze which restaurants wouldn’t give him the trots for a week… Side, side note: tell the Cats back home to have a word with the restaurant inspectors and clean up their act. The Cats were picky about food, and wouldn’t complain. Cutting the overall graft in their territory meant a bigger slice for them.

There wasn’t a clear surface on the desk, except for where the Twooze had set out her lunch. Tom loomed over Moothze and laid his hands on the printouts. “So, we’re gonna be pals for a while, you’re gonna help me like good friends do, and if I even think your left hand is reaching for a weapon, I’m gonna break every bone in your right arm.”

The hand reappeared with speed, and Tom gave her a crooked grin. The Twooze didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture

“So, we’re gonna be big fat heroines.” Moothze settled back with a sigh. “Seriously, what’ve I got to do to get your hand out of my egg sack and out of my life?”

Avee would call this a breakthrough. Tom tugged a pamphlet on ‘The Importance of Washing Your Appendages’ out of Shanky’s mouth as he chewed on it and pulled out his omni-pad. “See this woman? Do you know who she is?”

“Never seen her before,” The Twoose said in a snippy tone.

Tom slammed one hand on the desk. Printouts cascaded on the floor like a sudden avalanche, though it didn’t make much of a difference. It was an attention getter, though, and the metal desk made a satisfying boom. “You didn’t look. Try again.”

She did this time, then cocked her head at a weird angle. “Seriously. Not a clue!”

Well, at least she’d looked. Not everyone watched the news, and the game shows here were kind of addictive. He’d caught Shanky staring, and anything that transcended species like that was a sign of quality entertainment. “Right. Well, her name is Yetexia. She’s from the Alliance, so nothing bad is going to happen to you, or anybody else you work for.” That might be a total lie, but if it helped, it helped. “She’s staying near here, and you and all the nice security cameras you can access are gonna help me learn everything I need to know.”
_

It took a surprisingly short time to look over Amachri’s apartment and office. Both were being cleared out and made ready for a future occupant, though that was no more or less than the Academy would do. He had a word with both of the cleaning crews and examined the few boxes of personal possessions. According to both, Amachri essentially lived at her lab, so to the lab he went. Kzintshki didn’t have to be hurried for that one. He’d described the scientist being torn in half, and she was eager to look at the scene of the crime.

By the time they arrived, the blood was being scrubbed from the floor by two custodians. They were being supervised by one of the lab assistants and a medical examiner. The lab wasn’t a clean room, and scrubbing the floor wasn’t a demanding job. He passed them by and looked into Amachri’s lab office, where a trio of women wandered around. Things were being boxed, and Tom nodded amiably, made his introductions, and got down to business. The woman named Relois was one of Amachri’s lab assistants, the better-dressed one was a stout Nighkru named Leumei, working as a secretary with the Institute, while the last was a young Nighkru named Sefioni, busy doing nothing in particular.

Tom nodded at the collection of boxes, files, and storage devices. “So, is the inventory complete?”

“Nearly,” answered Leumei, while Relois looked at him like a novelty. “I’ve downloaded all the files and collected a list of her documents. Relois was helping me take an account of all the different objects in the room.”

She swiped the inventory over to Tom’s omni-pad, which translated it into Vatikre. He studied the list, translating the file into English whenever he wasn’t sure about something. The file was what the Institute woman claimed it was. Shil had nothing to offer, but he hadn’t looked around this room, so she had nothing to compare it to.

Tom nodded at Sefioni. “And what brought you here?”

“Professor Amachri borrowed a document from the library’s restricted files,” she replied, before stifling a yawn. “I was sent by the curator to fetch it back.”

“I don’t suppose it was a hard copy, about so big?” He gestured with his hands. “Thick thing, with lots of handwritten notes and drawings? Stored in a white box?”

She went still with surprise, with the unnerving focus Nighkru had. “Where did you see it!? I’ve been looking all over.”

Bells rang in ears before Shil announced, [Gentleman and Ladies, we have a winner… Probably.]

Tom ignored the special effects and the librarian’s question alike. “Tell me, what’s the document about?”

Sefioni bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Professor, but it’s a restricted document. It was on loan to the Professor-“

“And I’ve been appointed to look into the Professor Amachri’s death. Now-“

“Warrick!” Kzintshki nodded behind him, and Tom turned to the voice in the doorway. Yeluonin stood there with another woman. She wore bright silver with rich satin trim this morning, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The night hadn’t done wonders for her disposition. She looked as tired as he felt, and sounded bitter about it. “Blinding light, what do you think you’re doing here!?”

Tom felt his brows arch and pushed them back down. There was no telling what the expression meant, and he wanted to keep his expression neutral. “I’m here to investigate the murder of Amachri.” He reminded her, before giving the other woman a smile. “And who’s your friend?”

“I’m Neriliae, a Captain in the Pharos Garrison.” The woman replied. “We met at the banquet.”

[You bumped fists with her at the lineup for Khelira.]

As the only Human man, Tom knew he stood out. The Shil’vati were all purple Amazons with black or silver hair. The Nighkru were even more uniform, so far as he could tell, but saying so was rude. “The banquet, yes. I apologize, but it’s early. What brings you both here?”

“What’s your authority for investigating here, Imperial?” Neriliae demanded.

“My assistant and I were appointed by the Executive Director. Yeluonin was there at the time.” Tom wanted to smile, but didn’t. He nodded toward Kzintshki and dangled the lanyard around his neck. “And I’m a Human. I wouldn’t go around calling my people Imperials.”

Yeluonin’s pained expression spoke volumes. She likely hadn’t expected him to do anything amounting to much.

“Micromanaging old bitch,” Neriliae grumbled under her breath. This close, he could tell when she rolled her eyes before stepping closer. “Fine, Human. What’s your interest in this?”

“It’s true I’m with Princess Khelira’s delegation, but I’m here as an impartial third party.” Tom smiled, enjoying the little irony. “A gesture of lasting goodwill between the Imperium and the Consortium. I’ve proven my ability to uncover high crimes, and Her Royal Highness placed me at the service of Executive Director Sephine.”

Neriliae glared and took another step toward him. She wore the urban uniform of a Consortium Marine, and a bandolier crossed her chest. She didn’t have a gun, but Tom was keenly aware of the knife on her left hip. She didn’t seem very protective of men, though it was probably him in particular.

“I don’t care how ‘impartial’ you are, Human,” she snarled. “You’re no fighter, so go back to your Princess, get drunk, and fuck her and the rest of the tuskers. This is the Consortium. You aren’t wanted here!”

The Shil’vati needed less ‘personal space’ than Humans; he didn’t know about Nighkru, but this was too close by any standard. Tom slid his left hand inside his coat and took hold of the brass knuckles. Tom had spent some time teaching the girls iai-do, and understood the concept of ma’I. He’d had to explain it was pronounced ‘mah eye’, because Vatikre mangled the word, but it was knowing – instinctively – the reach of your circle of combat. He didn’t have a sword, but she was in range of his fist. He was definitely within the reach of her knife, but he played it casually. “Your Executive Director wants me here, so what you want doesn’t matter very much. Or at all, really.”

Another principle was watching your opponent’s hands and eyes. Katana fights weren’t lengthy hack and slash affairs – that was Hollywood nonsense. Razor-sharp, real fights were one or two cut affairs. Knowing the signs and moving was the difference between life and death. Neriliae obliged him with an inarticulate snarl, gripping her dagger with one hand and his jacket with the other.

Tom kept a bland expression as he looked down at the hand. “And that’s assault.” Neriliae must’ve had thoughts on the matter and was drawing the dagger. His hand shot out, forcing it back down in the sheath while his left caught her under her jaw. She staggered and looked at him like a stunned ox. Tom was just as surprised. The woman was essentially his height; lithe as a model, he’d expected her to go down hard. She didn’t, so he hit her second time in the sternum.

She folded, dropping like her strings had been cut.

The trio in the room looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Kzintshki ran her tongue over a tooth while her asiak danced happily. “I saw that coming.”

Yeluonin wasn’t so understanding. “You just went too far, Warrick!”

“Me!? I’m here as part of a peaceful trade delegation.” He replaced the knuckles in his pocket and toed Neriliae with his foot. “She was drawing her knife on me in front of witnesses – yourself included.”

Yeluonin took stock of him, then looked down at Neriliae with a shrug. “Soldiers are notorious hotheads. I’m sure you agree this isn’t worth creating a diplomatic incident for my Director or your Princess.” It was like watching a mask fall into place. “As a Human, you can understand how disturbing it is for the Imperium to presume control.”

Yeluonin might not have thought he was going to do anything, but she was rolling with the change surprisingly quickly. That was suspicious, but Tom decided he could do the same for the sake of appearances. “As a Human, I can certainly understand,” he replied. The ghosts of his past soundly agreed. “I’m willing to forget the matter if you are.”

Neriliae groaned on the floor and made little gagging noises. Tom was about to help, but realized he knew very little about Nighkru physiology, and even less about their personal injury laws.

Yeluonin pursed her lips, surveying the woman. “I better get her to a doctor.”

“One of the women out in the hall is a medical examiner,” he offered. Despite the noise, Neriliae was breathing steadily, but an unexpected death would change the complexion of things in a moment. Timely medical help was a sound idea. Besides, it might be a novelty for a coroner’s aide to treat a living patient. Yeluonin agreed, co-opting Relois and Leumei to pull her out into the lab. For a wonder, Kzintshki helped.

Tom closed the door behind them, before turning back to Sefioni. He dangled the investigator’s pass on its lanyard and left it hanging. “Now, then! You were just about to tell me about the missing document before we were interrupted.” He pondered taking out the brass knuckles to examine them, but decided against it.

“I- Well, that is… The book is property of the Institute…” Sefioni stammered. “It’s the original notes of Avarouse, a researcher who died just before the station became restricted. The work is original and there aren’t any copies.”

“I see.” Tom tried to look impassive, but one eyebrow shot up anyway. “And exactly what’s this book called?”

“The title is… um.. ‘The Theories and Physics of Warfare’.”

He didn’t mind Shil’s sound effects this time.
_

‘Please, goddess… Any goddess… Don’t let Father be here.’

Desi crept back into the common room, aware of the hour. There was time to get a shower, get changed, and maybe - goddess willing – something to eat. Plutarra might have listened, but Drepna had a sense of humor. Munching on the last of the muffins and pouring over their omni-pads, the K’herbhal twins looked up in unison.

Desi lifted her chin and made the best of it. “Mara… Lin…”

Ka’mara cocked her head fractionally while Lin showed her usual reserve. “Woohoo! Look what the Grinshaw dragged in!”

Desi sucked in a long breath and marched to the table. There was only one muffin left, and her stomach rumbled as she snagged it. “I was busy,” she said curtly.

“Mmmhmmm!” Lin propped her chin on a fist. “We can tell!”

The time she would’ve treated the pair like pristine paragons was long past, but Mara spoke up. “Lin…”

“What?! It’s the same outfit she wore last night!”

Mara rubbed her forehead with one hand and took her sister's wrist with the other. “Lin!”

Flipping Lin the V wasn’t the sort of thing a Princess’ consort should do, but she thought hard about it. Still, the pair were her friends. She knew perfectly well that Lin wouldn’t stop digging. “I slept over with Khelira.”

“Oh?” The pair said in unison. Mara cocked her head slightly, while Lin looked delighted.

“Just slept,” she added flatly. “The Nighkru keep trying to mess with her head. She couldn’t sleep and wanted the company.”

Lin stuck out her tongue but subsided. “You’re no fun.”

Desi flipped Lin the V and settled in. “So what are you working on?”

Separating the pair from a science project was like prying Jax from a spreadsheet. It could be managed by music or homework, but weird science was fun for them. Desi thought anything beyond the unified field theory was a headache.

“This? This is just that navspike thing.” Lin pushed her omni-pad around to show a diagram that looked like a tangle of seaweed. “Mara and I think we’ve got it licked. It's the metallurgy. The tolerances are ridiculous, but should be doable.” That ‘navspike thing’ could shave ten or even twenty percent off travel times, and revolutionize exploration. Kas’lin pushed it aside and drew over another pad, filled with more diagrams. “Now this lift system? This is pretty interesting!”

Desi’s gaze flickered over to Mara, who nodded emphatically and answered the question before she asked it. “This magnetic torus? The configuration on the coils is much more efficient.”

“Is it something new?” she asked, trying to find something intelligible in the drawing.

“No, actually.” Mara shook her head while Lin nodded emphatically. The combination was disconcerting. “The configuration’s been kicking around for ages, but nobody could make the tolerances work. They’re very specific.”

“Thats putting it lightly,” Lin pursed her lips. “I don’t know how they could ever manufacture it at scale.”

Desi considered that critically. “You mean it would eat itself.”

Lin rolled her eyes expansively while Mara grinned. “Don’t be silly! The torus would thermally reconfigure itself first.”

Science. Take two intelligent women and reduce them to technobabble. “You mean it would melt first, and then eat itself.”

Mara stuck out her tongue. “Lin’s right. You’re no fun today.”

She still wanted to get rid of the gown and soak in the shower. Picking at the muffin saved her from saying something pissy.

So did Hannah McClendon, though it took a moment to recognize her. The girl seriously looked like a Helkam until she pulled off her wig. “Ummm… Hi, Hannah. Is everything okay?”

The girl shot a venomous look at the wig. “I’m fine!” she grumbled. “I nearly got clawed by a mechanical crab, though it was really a bunch of methane fireflies, who thought that holding my arms wide was some kind of threat display! Then I had to buy all this to calm it down and then convince it that – no – believe it or not, I DO NOT WANT A BOOB JOB!” She tossed down some parcels on the floor. “On top of that, I can’t get this new makeup off! The backup solvent had better work, or I’m going to look like this for a week… I am so grabbing a shower.”

Desi watched her go. Taking a shower would have to wait, and she looked at the sisters for their reaction.

Mara tsked and looked back at the drawing.

Lin nodded and did the same. “Human girls are odd.”

Desi felt a headache coming on. “That’s it?!” she demanded.

The sisters looked up, cocked their heads, and spoke in unison. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? That! That, right there!” She waved toward Hannah’s bedroom. “You get in my tusks over coming home in last night's clothes, but Hannah prances through here disguised as a Helkam, and that’s all you have to say!?”

Mara shrugged and bent back to working on her pad. “She gets a little fussy over her figure.”

“Yeah.” Lin cocked her head a bit longer and gazed at the parcels. “But she got a super nice Snarg.”
_

Kzintshki’s plump thorps really brought out the sway in her tail.

A year ago, Tom wouldn’t have known what a thorp was, or what made one pair better than another as far as Pesrin were concerned. Such were the mysteries you eventually learned through osmosis, living with a teenager. A gentleman did not stare, but Pesrin didn’t have the musculature for expressive faces. Their body language was everything, so you had to look at the asiak – which you never called a tail.

Just at that moment, Kzintshki was thinking happy thoughts. Actually, it looked like sass. The walk was definitely doing ‘sassy’.

Right now they were on the trail of a murderer or murderers, and unlike the last time, everyone important either knew of it or was going to hear about it shortly. Reactions to his poking around could easily get hostile; he’d already had one fight with a local. The killer was almost certainly connected to the institute and would soon learn of his involvement, which was worse. Staying safely in the Embassy wasn’t an option; Khelira had offered up his services, so her reputation was at stake to some degree. Also, while he wasn’t actively fuming, the authority offered up a chance to see what happened to the local Erbians on the planet. That felt important, but the combination could mean bad things for his long-term health.

Kzintshki wanted to eat his corpse to ‘acquire’ his ‘family name’, and right now she was practically skipping. It was something to think about.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Tom remarked.

“I didn’t know Nighkru were that tough. That was even better than watching you knock out Alia Settian,” she replied. “I got a dab of her blood after we set her down. Nighkru are savory.”

That explained her good mood, but it did raise a question. Why had Shil puppeted him to deal with Alia, only to leave him to his own devices now? Admittedly, she’d strained half the muscles in his body to get out of the woman’s grip, and this time there were plenty of witnesses. Maybe that was it, but it certainly raised a question for the next time he could talk with her freely.

“You look happy too,” she said as they walked out of the labs. “You must have enjoyed it.”

The truth was that he’d felt nothing very much at the time, but the fight ought to have left him shaken. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I got a valuable lead on why Amachri was murdered. She was definitely part of a weapons program here on Pharos.”

“Well, that’s hunting wisdom.” She was beside him and couldn’t read her asiak. “Do you think that woman is the killer?”

That was a question, and he thought about it briefly. “No, actually. The murderer took something. It feels premeditated. Neriliae having a go at me seems like a spur of the moment thing”

“She’ll probably be alright. You should have put her in the hospital. She was in Sephine’s delegation, and now she may come for you.” Pesrin had a straightforward way of seeing the world. Unfortunately, she might be right.

“Maybe. I was surprised she’d go after a man. It's unusual… Maybe I’m too alien for her. Maybe Neriliae is just violent by nature, but then, Yeluonin was there. I’m more concerned about her and the other two. Then there’s the military. They have to be part of the program, so I need to find out who’s in charge here.”

[General Therumin]

“General Therumin.” She noticed his expression and shrugged. “I listened to the conversations at that banquet. She’s important around here.”

[You bumped fists with her, too.]

“So, what now?” she asked.

It was a good question. Tom did his best thinking while soaking under a hot shower, but ambling along with a murderous Pesrin concentrated the mind wonderfully. He picked at the pieces. Two dead scientists – one now, and one from when Pharos became restricted space. The plague? A breakthrough? Some people might see it as the same.

There was definitely a weapons program here on Pharos, but that wasn’t uncommon with universities and think tanks. Perched on the edge of Imperial space, secrecy would be important, but such things weren’t illegal. Why keep it that secret, and what had created conditions worth killing over, possibly for a second time? Khelira’s arrival? The negotiations were a Consortium party, but the Imperium had come at Sephine’s invitation.

Sephine would know about the program, wouldn’t she? The invitation meant she had at least one item on an agenda. Did she want to move up, riding a breakthrough in bioweaponry, or did she want promotion to escape the whole situation?

The Pharoan Erbians weren’t being educated to galactic standards, which made them barely more than slave labor. What were they being told, and what did they actually know? Sitry Vaida was a sample of one, but she’d lived up to the Erbian reputation of a friendly, charming people. Were the locals actually docile, or was Pharos a powder keg waiting to blow?

A lot of people were lying, but was it for advantage or just to save their skins? The Consortium military? Well, annoying a General in her office sounded relatively safe, so long as Agent Duvari didn’t hear about it.

The Interior? The mass deaths on Pharos had gone unremarked, but that wasn’t the same as going unnoticed. Restricted space or not, what did the Interior know about Pharos when Khelira accepted the invitation? The restriction must have been a huge red flag when it happened. A plague through the Erbian population would tie the Empire in knots, not to mention the death of countless millions, even billions. The Imperial Erbians would probably go off the rails if they found out about Pharos.

Was digging into the situation here more important to the Imperium than Khelira’s safety? And then there was Khelira herself. She’d been surprised and appalled when he’d explained his thoughts about weaponizing the plague, but was that down to him being an evil-minded Deathworlder, or because he’d figured it out? She’d thrown him at Sephine without batting an eye. He didn’t doubt that she cared about him, and she was the kind of person who’d sacrifice herself for her people. Would Khelira sacrifice him against a danger to the Imperium? Her mother would in a heartbeat, and regrets weren’t the same as hesitation.

There were a lot of open questions, and Tom made a decision as they wandered back to the central plaza. “I want to talk to that General, but I’ll save that for later. I want to see if she gets the news that I laid out Neriliae. If she’s angry, she’ll be off balance. If she isn’t informed, that’ll be interesting, too.”

“Not many soldiers would admit to being knocked out by a man,” she said seriously. “You agreed with Yeluonin to let it go.”

“That’s not the same as a promise from Neriliae, but you’re right. I wonder how tight Yeluonin is with Neriliae in particular and the military in general.”

Kzintshki’s asiak flickered with agreement. “So, what now? Back to the Embassy?”

Tom peered at the temples that lined the plaza. “I want another visit to the temples.”

“You just want another go with that Erbian.” For some reason, Pesrin could still manage to look smug.

“We have the time to kill, and it's just a short walk,” he said. “This is a golden opportunity to see a huge slice of galactic culture.”

That was true enough. Also, yes, he wanted another word with the attractive redhead. Knowing what the locals were thinking seemed like an important piece of the puzzle.

[I know what you’re thinking... Well, not literally, but she isn’t wrong. All I have to say is ‘redheaded bunny girl’ and your hormones- There! They did it again!]

Shil playing with his central nervous system was distracting, but Tom made no apologies. The temple district was a phenomenal experience. On Shil, the temple district was dedicated to the Imperial pantheon. Devout as a rule, individuals might follow one deity or another, depending on personal preferences and natural disposition. Group affiliations like the military were huge followers of Hele. The diversity amongst themselves probably went a long way toward their open-mindedness to other races, though none of those beliefs weren’t represented in the district. Rakiri and Helkam and the plethora of other Imperial species made due all over the city, and aside from the recent diatribe directed at the Human mission, they were left alone. Even that had been a political move using Humans as scapegoats, rather than an attack on Human religion. The religious beliefs of other species were a subject of mild curiosity to the Shil’vati, but interfering was counterproductive to running an Imperium. For one reason or another, they kept their hands off.

Tom made his way to the Erbian temple only to find it closed. Even priestesses had lives, it seemed, and he made his way back to Kzintshki.

The plaza wasn’t the Imperial capital, but it was impressive in its own right. Buildings and gardens and mounds, and yes, something that looked like an artificial cave, crowded the area. In contrast to the district on Shil, the area wasn’t exactly restrained. Looking around a second time, he was taken by the sight. Some had gaudy facades that wouldn’t look out of place next to a Las Vegas wedding factory. Others were obscure, but eye-catching. Signs were brightly lit and written in unintelligible scripts. Other displays too obscure to decipher still strobed and flared. The plaza was more raucous with alien species, but most were still Nighkru. He followed the crowd with his eyes, took note of the processions, gazed at the lights, and listened to the clamor. He tried not to stare at the profusion of new races, though several stared at him. Sheer diversity made forming an impression an impossible task.

The Erbian priestess wasn’t to be found, but there were plenty of others about.

It was time to talk with a Nighkru.

Date: 11/30/2076

The celebrations from the day before had finally quieted down. They couldn't compare to the victory celebrations. But they still made it very difficult to sleep without noise cancelling headphones or heavy sleeping pills. Yet many among the imperial delegation hadn't slept at all. The formation of the Sol Confederation had thrown their plans to slowly ensnare humanity into their political web by influencing the different parts of the Sol system and slowly annexing it bit by bit into the meat grinder. They hadn't just flipped the chessboard, they'd kicked the table into the other player.

"We can't allow them to have they systems if they're going to form new star nations during our negotiations," Lady T'misava insisted. "it completely undermines everything."

"If we back out now, they wont just turn the fifteen year isolation phase back into an eighty year one, they'll make it a permanent one," Kamilesh groaned. "They'll never trust us again."

"Does that matter?" Lady Ca'pala huffed. "They're just one planet with some metal tubes on other rocks."

Kamilesh glared at the haughty noblewoman.

"It is... precisely that kind of arrogance that is responsible for Admiral Moron's defeat," She grumbled. "You haven't seen what humanity has planned for this system, nor what the hydras would become with they ever figured out FTL..."

She turned on her holopad and brought up a map of the sol system. Human settlements across the system lit up.
"This is one system, and they've only been able to meaningfully get off Earth for a few decades. But the hydras..."

She almost bore her teeth.
"If they can build an interstellar vessel that can both sustain and transport a crew during a multiple decade spanning voyage between star systems without FTL and it's arrived here... it's certain that they've had meaningful space travel for much longer, and their colonies... will be much more extensive. They could even have what humans call... dyson swarms."

Those words didn't illicit much of a reaction from the imperial delegation. Kamilesh sighed. She entered more commands on her holopad. The map of the Sol system gained countless more stations. Larger structures humans referred to as "O'Neill cylinders," "Mckendree cylinders" and "Bernal spheres." Planetary orbits were crammed with every kind of station at every altitude, moons big and small were swarmed by them, LaGrange points were packed,"It is... precisely that kind of arrogance that is responsible for Admiral Moron's defeat," She grumbled. "You haven't seen what humanity has planned for this system, nor what the hydras would become with they ever figured out FTL..."

LaGrange points were packed, asteroids where surrounded and filled with them, but most of all, the space between planets was crammed with stations, some alone, some in pairs, some in formations and others even orbiting at angles no planet ever would.
"If the hydras have even a fraction of the percentage of their offworld infrastructure that humans have devoted to ship building... they will annihilate the imperium before anyone can blink... the galaxy will crumble..."

Her royal composure cracked as she shuddered.
"We will honor our promises, humanity will be the most important ally in fighting these hydras... and the only way to keep them on our side is by honoring our promises."

She got to her feet.
"Now if you'll excuse me... I have other affairs to attend to... affairs I can no longer put off."

Despite the protests of the rest of the delegation, Kamilesh walked out. Dreading what she was about to do. As she exited the hotel, she ignored the bustling city module around her, the curious stares from some humans and the disgusted glares of others, the hovercars and drones shuffling around above them, and the many screens at different levels. She headed for the warehouses the P.O.W.'s where housed in.

Her body practically went on autopilot until she was in front of the armed guards. Barely noticing as they were told by a human woman in a uniform to let her through. She was inside the warehouse just a second later, the many shil'vati looking up in utter shock. But Kamilesh sought out a single shil'vati.

Ch'lara stood at attention practically shaking. Unable to keep what she was thinking from tumbling out her mouth. Stars formed in her eyes, she could've began floating in total defiance of the station's centrifugal gravity.
"I-I'm meeting one of the Princesses..."

Kamilesh couldn't keep it hidden any longer. She winced. Barely keeping her groan shorter than a breath.
"Admiral Ch'lara... I need to speak to you in private."

Ch'Lara's jaw dropped as she followed Kamilesh into a nearby meeting room. Not even noticing the humans that entered behind them.

"This... isn't going to be easy to say..." Kamilesh grimaced. "But I need to rip the band-aid off as humans say."

"I'm sure whatever it is... can't be that bad," Ch'lara gaped.

Kamilesh winced again. One of the human guards whispered something to her.
"I don't even know the context behind that phrase," Kamilesh groaned. "Yet it describes how she is acting perfectly."

"You poor sweet summer child," Kamilesh sighed. "What I'm about to say is... probably going to be the worst thing you've ever heard."

She straightened up, her voice becoming more official.
"Admiral Ch'lara... unfortunately due to your surrender to a technologically inferior species, regardless of circumstances... you are hereby stripped of your rank and are discharged from the imperial navy, effective immediately."

Ch'lara could've been floating in the shadow of the station, freezing solid and she wouldn't have felt any more cold then she felt in that moment. Her guts could have been on the other side of the Earth and her vertigo wouldn't be any worse.

"What...?" Ch'lara's voice was a hoarse whisper.

"I'm sorry," Kamilesh sighed. "It wasn't my decision, but the nobility was in an uproar, they demanded the head of the one responsible for this... I couldn't believe the call for barbarism either. But the Empress was able drag them in line by settling for discharging the one responsible."

"But... that was admiral moron!" Ch'lara growled. "She did this! It's her fault!"

Kamilesh sighed again.
"I know... but she's dead."

"She'd have fought until everyone was dead!" Ch'lara shouted. "I had to tell Jason to kill her! It was the only way to save anyone without mutiny!"

Everything she'd done, the grueling grind in the imperial navy to raise through the ranks, every moment she had to hear admiral moron's fits and stupidity, every idiotic thing she had to stop her from doing, all the time she'd never get back... all for nothing.

"I understand your rage," Kamilesh tried to sound sympathetic. "I'd be just as angry."

"Angry enough to commit regicide?!" Ch'lara growled through gritted teeth.

"Very likely yes," Kamilesh was unfazed. "But I do have an offer for you."

"The opportunity to rip off those nobles heads and mount them on my wall?!" Ch'lara grunted.

"Tempting as that is," Kamilesh almost laughed. "No."

She pulled a small holopad from her uniform.
"The Imperium will be establishing a permanent diplomatic office in the Sol Confederation, and they'll need diplomats."

Ch'lara's jaw dropped.
"What...? But... I'm... not a diplomat... I didn't go to school for that..."

"You can work a desk job there, even if you're not an official diplomat," Kamilesh gestured to the holopad. "It still pays very well."

"This... is a demotion..." Ch'lara barely spoke. "Practically exile..."

"Quite a horrible thing to do to a talented admiral," Fiona spoke up.

The two shil'vati almost jumped as the human woman stepped forward and the exoskeleton clad soldiers followed her.

"I forgot she was here," Ch'lara mumbled.

Fiona pulled out her own holotablet. It was larger than the imperial one, with a screen that only had a fraction of the resolution.
"The Sol Confederation has it's own offer, one far more fitting of your background."

"It's only a matter of time before we reverse engineer imperial FTL drives," Fiona grinned slightly. "We've got scientists and engineers from all over the Sol system studying the more... intact wreaks in Leo and elsewhere."

"But we'll need someone to show us how to use the ships once we've built them," Fiona continued. "Show us the tactics and procedures beyond the physics. They'll be very different from the navel tactics we've developed against the hydras."

"And if you went to the imperial academy and you've been ejected from the imperial navy, I'd say you qualify to teach us." Fiona finished as she stepped back.

This time both Ch'lara's and Kamilesh's jaws dropped.

"But... the isolation phase..." Kamilesh almost stammered. "The treaty said the Sol Confederation would not allow any unauthorized alien presence within the system... and her teaching or even being an admiral... it would require her to take up long term residence in the Sol Confederation."

"The Sol Senate is fully prepared to give Ch'lara full Sol Confederation citizenship immediately," Fiona barely suppressed a grin, settling for a polite smile. "Fifteen years before any talks of immigration."

Ch'lara went completely rigid. One of the exoskeleton clad soldiers was shaking her a minute later.
"Hello? Skylab to Ch'lara? Are you there?"

"I-I'm fine! I'm alive!" Ch'lara gasped.

She almost fell over the moment the soldier let her go. Leaning against one of the storage racks.
"Did... I hear you right? Y-You want to offer me a job?! In the Sol Confederation?!"

"That is correct," Fiona smiled. "You'd be teaching human admirals FTL tactics and once there's enough experienced admirals in our navy, you'll have the option lead your own fleet."

"And you won't have to worry about losing your job due to aristocratic anger." She added.

Kamilesh had yet to pick up her jaw. The other human soldier looked like he was about start shaking her too. He started to set his laser rifle down.
"Th-That won't be necessary!" She stammered.

The Princess took a moment to reassert diplomatic mannerisms.
"Commander Ayoade... is there a reason for this offer?"

Fiona almost smirked.
"Of course Princess Kamilesh, Ch'lara is rather well-liked in the Sol Confederation, she is the one who stopped this pointless war after all. Discharging her from the imperial navy over admiral moron's actions is a grave injustice, noble outrage or not."

Kamilesh would have mentioned that she had opposed the action and dreaded having to deliver the news since she'd left Shil, but it made no difference.
"I would like to mention that if she accepts your offer, it could mean that she loses her imperial citizenship."

"Hasn't she lost enough?" One of the human soldiers muttered.

"I believe she has," Fiona agreed. Sounding as nonchalant as if she was drinking with the soldier. "Couldn't the empress do something about this injustice? Tell the nobility they're being ridiculous and ignoring their demands?"

"Not... without stepping on a lot of toes and causing problems in the imperium..." Kamilesh almost grumbled.

"Like... what?" The other soldier tilted his head.

"The usual feudal nonsense," Fiona started counting on her fingers. "Pretending the empress's messages arrived late, making every excuse for their late replies, claiming every difficulty they can for why they can't contribute as much they should to any war the empress starts, creative accounting on taxes, mineral shipments, the list of plausible deniability goes on."

"How do you know that?" Ch'lara's eyebrows rose.

"I'm British," Fiona chuckled. "I studied my own country's history."

Kamilesh was speechless. Not everything Fiona had suggested was possible in the imperium, but there were other ways the nobles could make trouble and legally get away with it. Enough to tie the empress's hands on this matter.

"Well..." She acquiesced. "It will be up to Ch'lara to make her own decision."

All eyes turned to Ch'lara. Her sweat glands perked up. She stared at the two holotablets. One familiar, the other not. One offering her something familiar, degrading and with very little chance of ever taking her anywhere high ranking, but within a powerful system. The other offering her something completely and utterly alien, yet incredibly alluring, a system much weaker yet growing rapidly, something that could take her further than she ever dared dream.

After what felt like months, she finally stood up straight.
"Commander Ayoade... where do I sign?"

First

Previous

The Arttamine, introduced in Far Away by u/RobotStatic.
Enslaved for generations and genetically altered by the mysterious Masters, the males were "designed" to intentionally be small, weak, and fragile as a way to control the much larger females who were used as forced labor.
Denied their own history and culture, the Empire strives to help them reclaim their past, despite the genetic damage done. It is said that the women's strength and protectiveness is matched only by their wholesomeness and honesty.

(and yes, this was the visual reference in my head for how Ihrfi looks in my Hoofin' It stories)

This drawing was done by the amazing u/Neat-Flatworm6839 and posted with his permission.

NSFW alert! Well, THIS part is completely safe, but part 2 will NOT be. "There will be pancakes!"

As always, huge thanks to u/BlueFishCakes for this wonderful world for us to play in. To u/RobotStatic for creating the adorable Arttamine & allowing me to make some moosey lewdness for the fun of it. And u/Legal_Dust_3531 for being my beta reader and suffering my stuff first, and has given some amazing suggestions

"And now, for something completely different..."

NEXT

---

Part 1:

As soon as Ihrfi walked into the club, she knew she was underdressed. This was a decently up-scale place, frequented by all sorts of not only her own kind, but all sorts of other races of the the Imperium’s wide and varied species that had come to Leuilium over the years to help the Arttamine reclaim and rebuild their society and world after being liberated from the horrible Masters that had enslaved her species for generations. She’d not been born under their despotic rule, herself, and her parents were all far too young at the time of Liberation to remember anything of it. Still, the stories her Nanas and other elders told of those days made her shudder. The point was, this was a nice place, not just hoofing around her own house.

Now, the top she’d chosen was perfect. A light white fabric that breathed pleasantly and had loose sleeves that ended in a cinch cuff halfway down her forearms. And the high-fitted bottom hem form-fitted at the bottom of her bustline just under her ample bosom. She’d always been complimented on both her hands and her midriff, and this blouse showed both off quite nicely.

And the slightly off-white color perfectly matched the double-row of spots that ran down the wiry but soft fur of her lower body’s back, all the way to the single spot on her stumpy tail. Without thinking, she flicked her ears in pride, as they also had the same spots that made her mothers coo about how cute she was. Then, to finish it off, a row of embroidered grape vine & purple bunches lined the front of the blouse's neckline, which sat just right on her collarbones.

But….she’d totally forgotten to even think about looking behind her to remember what shorts she had on that day. Because it was the last day before Shel, and she’d been busy all week at work. So that morning she’d only thought to just grab the most comfortable shorts she owned, and that’s what was still wearing now.

And now she DID look back at them. Loose fitting all the way from the lower-waistline at the front of her hipbones, down around her buttocks to the middle of her rear thighs. And lined with eight different pockets, very handy to carry things around at work. Oh so very comfortable and useful, but between the fit, the pockets, and the odd tan color of them, they practically ruined the fashionable look of her blouse.

“Great,” she muttered to herself. “I finally get myself to come out and socialize and I’m wearing the most Mom-Pants of Mom-Pants in the whole galaxy.”

She stepped up to one of the Arttamine-specific spots at the bar, and tapped the button on the floor with one of her front hooves. The designated area of the floor she was standing on began to slowly sink down, lowering her until her arms came to the just-perfect height at the bar.

Thanks to their dual-natured body design with the fur-covered quadrupedal lower body and more “typical” torso, arms, and head at the front, female Arttamine stood quite tall. Much taller than most of the other, almost-all biped, alien species. Even the rather tall Shil’vati were towered over by an average Arttamine.

And so, places that catered to multi-species customers, such as this particular club, tended to have bars and tables sized to the more average of heights. To even things out, literally, the seats would raise up for the shorter people who needed a boost, while there were lowering platforms for Arttamine like her, who didn’t need chairs.

She ordered her first round of drinks, this one a non-alcoholic mocktail that tasted “heavy” to her, as a way to pace things out while she waited for anyone she actually knew to show up. A couple others at her company and some ancillary acquaintances had all said they were thinking of trying this place out, but none seemed to have arrived yet.

Suddenly an extremely close voice to her left surprised her. “Hello there! Say, your spots are really nice.”

She froze in fear, too scared to turn her eyes, much less her head, to see who it was. Because despite sounding as heavy, loud, and strong as a woman’s voice, it was most distinctly, absolutely a male. And he was talking TO HER.

She made herself take a slow breath as she tried not to panic. But other than her young son, she’d not spoken with a male, ANY male, outside of official work discussions while at her job. And yet here was one now, initiating conversation with her. And he’d complimented her! Her mind was saying don’t panic, but every ounce of her wanted to scream in terrified excitement.

She turned slowly, not even having to look down much. Brown hair, pinkish-brown skin…no tusks or scales or fur. She had no idea what species he was, but he was the biggest male she’d ever seen. And he was smiling. AT HER.

Be calm. Be courteous. Show your intelligence.

“My…spots?”

Good going, dummy! Real smooth

“Yea,” he said, keeping that intoxicating smile bright. “They’re cute! I mean, all of you is cute. I mean pretty! You’re a very pretty woman!”

His face suddenly turned bright red….she recognized a blush easily enough, trying to keep her own tanned face from glowing in the dark like her antlers did.

“Sorry, I suddenly got all awkward there. Tripping over my tongue.”

Wait, HE felt awkward? Being in a three foot deep hole was the only thing keeping her from running, and he was the one feeling awkward?

Then he chuckled. “How about I try this again? Hi. My name is Johann.” He held up his closed hand for a classic fist bump greeting.

Again fighting off panic, she brought her fist up as well, and they tapped knuckles. I touched a male! her suddenly twelve year old brain screamed. Skin to skin, even! She didn’t even register how forceful the bump had been, to the point that it would have possibly broken her husband’s hand. But it was him that had done the bumping, not her.

“Yoh’ahn?” she repeated, which got another smile from him.

“Very close! Better than most. Johann Rabenau, I’m from Earth. A small place called Lichenstein.”

“I’m-” She hesitated, then gulped. “I’m Ihrfi Muius. I’m from…well, here, I suppose.”

“Well, Earfee, it is very nice to meet you.”

“It is nice to meet you, too,” she said, still nervously. “I’m sorry, I don’t know Earth. Or most other planets, really.”

The Shil’vati woman sitting on the next seat over from him, that she hadn’t noticed until then, laughed and tilted her head their direction. “He’s a human! What, you never heard of the sex planet before?”

Ihrfi couldn’t believe what she thought she just heard. “I’m sorry…the what planet?”

Johann scowled back at the purple woman. “Lies and false rumors, and you know it!”

“Not in your case,” the Shil threw back.

The man huffed, but then shook his head with a smile. “Drastic exaggerations, as least. Anyways….”

He leaned forward to rest on the bar, and she couldn’t help but notice he seemed to also be leaning slightly towards as well. “So yea, my annoying coworker there and I just got here a couple weeks ago, and she finally talked me into risking coming out again. Said I was being anti-social and wouldn’t stop hitting on me until I agreed.”

“She hit you?!?” Ihrfi flashed the woman an angry glare.

“Whoa, easy! No of course I wouldn’t lay a hand on him, dear, it’s just human slang. And you know I never actually hit on you, Johann.”

“Yea, well you’re a lesbian, so that doesn’t count as a real achievement.” But then they both laughed, so Ihrfi realized that it was just the harmless teasing between two friends.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I’ve been being a little cooped up since I got here and it’s my own fault. But she definitely chose a good place.” He held his glass up and took a sip. “So at the risk of saying an old Earth cliche, you come here often? Like, is this your normal hangout?”

Suddenly those awkward nerves hit her again, and she tried not to get flustered. But he really was striking up conversation with her. Right?

“What? Oh...no, this is my first time, actually. I also don’t get out much.”

He again held his glass up, but this time extending it out towards her own glass. “Well then, what fortuitous luck we both came here on the same night!”

Her nervousness started to give way to confusion, or perhaps doubt, as she raised her glass without quite knowing why as he then tinked them together in a kind of salute.

“You think you’re lucky? To meet me?”

“Of course.” His smile was intoxicating. “You’re nice, and pleasant to talk to. And as I said, you’re quite pretty.”

Her face exploded in warmth as she felt herself blush from the top of her head down to her hooves. “Oh! I-I…thank you? No one besides my parents have ever called me pretty, except for…my husband.” She tried her hardest to not frown.

Johann sat back up straight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were married. Apologies if I’ve been seeming to-”

“It’s okay! I’m not married!” She cut him off without thinking, and wasn’t even sure why she was so unexpectedly forceful about it. She had never referred to herself as ‘not married’ before, even to herself. “I mean…my husband, he passed away. A few years ago.”

“Mein Gott,” he said softly. “Again, my apologies. I’m sorry.”

Ihrfi shook her head slowly. “No, it’s alright. It’s me who is sorry. It’s been a little over three years now, I’ve just been- Well, it’s just that other than our son, I’ve not talked with a man since then.”

“You have a son?”

“Yes. He just turned eight. He’s at one of the local boarding schools for boys. He’s quite lovely, really. He’s got my spottings, actually, but the same soft eyes and ears as his father. And he’s smart! He’s already reading two levels above his age, and- OH. I’m sorry, I’m’ starting to ramble. I am just feeling awkward, is all.”

“Well, it’s perfectly fine. I’m feeling awkward as well.”

“What? Why would a male have to feel awkward about?”

He smiled brightly and seemed to lean in towards her again. “Well, saying hello to a pretty woman who’s proud of her son, for starters.”

Now Ihrfi was totally confused. She even looked around, taking quick note of all the other people in the club that night, almost all of them women. And most, especially the other Arttamine, seemed far more attractive than she was. “Surely not. You must be teasing me.”

“He’s not!” called the Shil’vati woman.

“Thank you, Kar’in!” he said, trying not to grin. “Don’t need the help!”

“Yes you do!” the woman got up, and walked around Johann to lean in between them, facing Ihrfi. “Look, here’s the scoop on Johann here. He actually is decent and nice doesn’t lie…because he knows I will be all over him if he did. But for real, he’s nice. OH….and humans are the toughest, most resilient males out there, and I ain’t kidding. So you don’t have to be dainty with ‘em. So go for it. Now, I see a table of potential targets, so I”m outta here.”

Then with a smile and a wink, she wandered off.

Now Ihrfi felt nervous again, but in a slightly different manner. “Uhm, I’m confused. What did she mean? What am I supposed to go for?”

“Well, I assume she meant me. Hopefully.”

Her mind’s inner voice screamed like a little kid that had just gotten a lifetime’s worth of birthday gifts all at one time, starting with a private orchard of delicious grapes.

She took a deep breath, bringing herself back to reality. Surely he wasn’t meaning what she was thinking he meant. Men didn’t just approach random women and say they were interested in them. That’s not how the galaxy worked. Was it?

“Do you mean you hope she meant you?” she asked him hesitantly.

“I mean I hope you’ll give me a chance to get to know you.”

Ihrfi blushed again, barely able to comprehend the implications. She’d always been surprised enough that her husband had given her a chance after their fathers had introduced them. The idea of a second man, much less an exotic one like that, that could likely have the attention of any and every other person in this whole place, giving her the time of day was beyond belief. But also, was it something she could deal with? Was it even something she wanted to deal with? She’d been as happy as possible with her husband, and she’d finally gotten used to the loneliness of him being gone. She had no answers, because she’d never thought it was a question she’d ever be faced with.

Not knowing what to do or say, just just smiled, and tried to take a socially acceptable gulp of her drink to finish it off. The next one would definitely need some alcohol in it.

“So,” Johann said. “What do you do for a living? And again, sorry for throwing another cliche line at you. I’m not good at small talk.”

Ihrfi laughed. “I doubt I am, either. I’m usually too busy to stand around the office gossiping with the others. But oh, yes, my job. I’m a safety equipment technician! I work for one of the most respected safety companies in the whole region. And I’m very proud that I can say I am one of the reasons we’re the top rated in safety installation and upkeep for over five years in a row. But this past week has just been crazy frustrating. I was updating and redoing an entire office run by a Shil company because they had just hired a male for the first time in years and NO ONE had done any upkeep on the male-proofing there. Especially the corner and edge protections. They’d all been the old, cheap polyform plastic stuff, but that’s just padding really, not great for protecting anything! It dries out and hardens and then just disintegrates. We only use good, proper stuff, like the porous foam that cushions anyone hitting against it. But ugh, this week I got a shipment from our suppliers that was horrible….the hollow foam tubes were all warped and wouldn’t stay straight. We’ve used them for years, but I can no longer recommend anyone buying from that Ea’nasir place. Their products are just too sub-standard these days. And we wouldn’t risk anything less than the best. I had to refuse all of it”

She actually squared her shoulders up in pride for a moment, before they drooped again as the irony of her saddest memory hit alongside her proudest.

“Unfortunately my husband’s work didn’t use us to male-proof their worksites. We would have made sure that cabinet had been secured and not overloaded, and he…. I’m sorry, I’m must be just rambling on.”

“Ach. I am sorry I keep making that come up. Forgive me.” Then he set one of his hands on top of hers.

That was a sensation she was most definitely not ready for. Not only was his hand warm, the feel of him touching her was a flash that exploded up her arm and into her very soul. Suddenly her heart was racing at twice the speed and without realizing she was doing it, her hand snapped up from under his to her chest.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Again! Was that too forward of me?”

It took a moment to comprehend what he meant, as she looked down to get her mind caught up to her muscles’ reaction.

“What? Oh…OH, no, you’re fine! I, it’s just, uhm.” She paused, set her hand back on the bartop, and forced herself to take a deep slow breath. “It just startled me is all. I’m not exaggerating that no male has actually touched me since Ahnren died. Well, except the occasional hug from my father. Or son. But that doesn’t count. It’s not the same. It’s…I mean…it was nice.”

Pull it together, girl! You’re going to drive him away by being a weirdo!

She softly cleared her throat to keep her voice from cracking. “So, then. Would you like a drink? No, you’ve got one. Right. I need one though.”

She jerked a hand up to motion to the bartender, who she now realized was watching the whole thing with a grin. “Red Grain,” she managed to croak out to the woman, who nodded and set the can in front of her.

Then the Shil leaned to her and whispered, “You’re doing fine. Ask about him, though.”

Ihrfi’s eyes shot open. Of course, you goof! Then she steadied herself by opening the can. Turning back to Johann, she took a nervous sip. “What about you? Why did you come to Leuilium?”

Johann finally smiled again. “I’m a paleo-antropologist! I got my degree at Univeritat Hamburg, in Germany, and I was specializing in the Germano-Celtic cultures of pre-Roman Europe. Especially the transitional period between the Halstadt and Le Tiene periods. It’s crazy how their art and metalworking suddenly grew so much more elaborate after being the same for centuries….ach, sorry, now I am the one rambling. Anyway, that’s where I met Daiz, who worked for the Shil’vati company that took over managing our sites.”

He motioned with his head across the bar, and Ihrfi looked back to see his coworker, now in the middle of a four-way makeout session in the far rear booth. She blushed slightly and turned back to Johann, who just smirked and raised a single eyebrow.

“After a couple years, one of the company reps came to her with an offer to come dig some possible sites here. When she told me about your people and how all of your history was lost after all those generations under The Masters, I couldn’t resist the chance to come and truly learn and rediscover what I could! The mystery of how it all got lost and why it’s so hard to figure out is crazy. Why even the Alliance and Consortium took a look at the data and your genetic code. They couldn’t figure it out either. I love and hate a good mystery.” Suddenly he leaned in towards her again, and again her heart fluttered. “I had no idea what to expect about meeting some moose centaur, but I have to say it’s even better than I had guessed.”

“A what-what?” was all she could say.

“Centaur. It’s a race of mythological people from our ancient Greek stories. They were supposed to be the upper part of a human and body of a horse, very similar to you Arttamine.”

She had no idea what a horse was, but then he held up his omnipad to show her a picture. It was indeed a very close resemblance, almost impossibly close for two planets light years apart from each other. But she’d already heard a few of the stories from the others about ancient "progenitors" that preceded all known races, who might have had something to do with them all being so loosely similar.

“But you really do seem more like our moose, which are kind of like horses, but also very different. If that makes any sense. OH! And that’s not an insult at all! Quite the opposite, I find Arttamine quite interesting.”

Then he looked up and their eyes met. “Especially you.”

There was a moment of silence as Ihrfi blushed yet again. But then, he blushed a little bit as well, which she liked. Dear Goddess help me, but he IS quite handsome and beautiful, even if he’s the biggest male I’ve ever seen before.

Then he looked up at the top of her head, and started to lift a hand before hesitating. “Uhm…ok, this is going to sound really silly but, ah, I’ve never met anyone with antlers before. Could I, maybe, feel them?”

There’s no way this was really happening. He wanted to touch her, again? Her accidental recoiling from his first touch didn’t make him decide against her? Lucky wasn’t even the beginning of the way she felt about this day.

“Certainly, yes.” she said, slowly lowering her head. “Just please don’t poke yourself.”

He chuckled and raised his hand up.

Now, she’d never felt overly impressed with her rack, before. Well, her upper rack, anyway. Her bust, what the kids jokingly referred to as their “soft rack” was impressive enough to have made up for her antlers not having come in until a year or so after most others her age. But even when they did grow out, they weren’t nearly as big or nice looking as everyone else. They didn’t extend much outward, barely wider than her shoulders, and fanned out almost flat, with just five stumpy short horns pointing straight up. They looked more like someone’s hands sitting palm up with fingers curled up towards the ceiling. She almost let herself frown, but then Johann’s husky voice cut off her negative thoughts.

“Incredible,” he said, rubbing a flat edge between thumb and forefinger. “Simply incredible. Do they ever feel too heavy?”

“No, not at all,” she said. “It’s just like having long hair. It’s not much and you get used to it. Mine aren’t exactly big, anyway.”

"I know how you all have glowing patterns all over, but yours are…." Johann paused, looking down at her fur-covered lower body. "Missing, I guess? I mean, you have no markings on your body but it looks like your entire antlers all completely glow. You must look really neat in the dark."

Honestly, she'd always been a bit self-conscious about that. No swirls or patterns, just boring antlers that glowed so bright it took a month for her husband to learn how to sleep with so much light. But just like him, this human seemed to actually like it. How confusing.

"Fabulous," he said, and then he let go, his hand dropping straight down as she lifted her head back up. But she hadn't even realized that she had shifted herself as far over towards him as the sunken platform would let her.

That let his dropping hand brush against her side, just where bare skin transitioned to the dark brown fur at the top of her forelegs. A hundred times more than when he'd touched her hand, the sensation of his fingers brushing across her skin flashed through her. She didn't even notice, much less stop, her two front hooves giving an excited double-stomp.

She'd not felt something so intense, or amazing, since the first time her husband had touched her shoulder as she'd leaned down to share their first kiss. And even that wasn't until the end of the second date!

But what surprised her the most wasn't just the intensity of it, but that she'd have expected that feeling to never happen again. Just like it hadn't happened before….her husband was actually not the first man she'd ever dated. He was the third, in fact. The first two were lovely gentlemen, but just as her father and mothers had told her, Arttamine were unusually sensitive to how well two people would get along. "You will know," her mother had said just before her first ever date. And then her father added, "And you will both know, together. If it is to be, it will be. And if not, it will be a friendly understanding. We have never wasted time trying to lie to ourselves or being resentful." In the end, the two school friends remained just that. But then her father's oldest friend talked with him about his own son, and they arranged the exciting "blind date" between them. And by the time she'd said her farewells to him and his father, SHE KNEW.

There had been no other male that had sparked that feeling, before or after. There could be no other that would compare to the memory of that sweet, adorable man who gifted her life with his presence, and then gifted her with her son. Right?

Still feeling the tingles of the Human's accidental touch, she tried to pass the oddities of her reaction and confusion to him being so alien compared to her and everything she knew.

But, he wasn't REALLY that alien, was he? Something about his eyes held a softness she remembered so dearly. But also a familiar determination.

Then his voice called her back out to the rest of the world. "This is going to sound even more like a cheap come-on line, but….can I also feel your fur?"

She couldn't stop herself from nodding yes, and then she froze as he leaned in and fully placed his hand just behind her foreleg joint, near to where he'd brushed against her a moment earlier. Then his hand slowly stroked backwards an inch or two, and the entire universe flared out from that point of her in bright lights and sounds. She heard birds singing in the brisk morning air. She saw sunlight flickering through trees as they rustled in the wind. In her mind she was suddenly submerged hip-deep in a joyous, slow-moving stream, with him napping on her back as they floated lazily down the small river.

"Soft," he murmured. "Softer than any horse, even. Lovely."

"Yes," she repeated, still lost in her waking daydream. "Lovely…"

And then his hand was gone, and her skin rippled in the aftereffects where it had been. She couldn't control herself at all, and felt her short tail, tucked in her cargo shorts, waggling back and forth excitedly. HOW? She'd had her moment of happiness, she'd had her husband. How could a male be so brazen as to just approach her AND make her feel like this? And one that's so very very alien?

Suddenly she realized that he had adjusted his barstool a little, and was right up there next to her face. So close she would feel the heat from his skin on her own. Or was it her own heat reflecting back off of him? She wasn't sure, but by all the goddesses, she suddenly wanted him even closer.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, and every other sight and sound in the room disappeared. "This really does sound like the absolute worst pickup line ever made, but the risk of the whole 'we have a connection' bit….I saw you here and literally just HAD to come say hello. I'm not sure why or if I could explain it, but the moment I saw your eyes, and smile, and…oddly your spots, I just had to meet you. And I'm so very glad I did."

"Yes," was all she could say, basking in his closeness as both her hearts raced. The lower main heart was beating so hard she could time her pulse rate in her hooves, and her upper heart wanted to rip out of her chest and sail up into space.

"I know," she finally got out. And like a spring-loaded trap, something in her snapped into place. "I. Know."

He leaned even closer, stretching himself up to meet her. "I'm going to kiss you now," he said. Before she could mutter back either a yes or a no-let's be honest, it was going to be a yes-his lips here on hers.

Every nerve ending in her sang in delight. She was suddenly very aware of the texture of the fabric that lined the inside of her bra, as her nipples became the most sensitive things imaginable. And now she was glad to actually not be wearing her best shorts and underwear, as the ones she did have on were drenched with desire and excitement.

She brought her hand up to his cheek. Despite the waterfall of lust and desire cascading through her, she couldn't help but worry about him falling off the barstool.

"You," she finally got out breathlessly. "I…want…I mean, I want you to be careful. Please don't fall."

"Too late," was all he said, kissing her again.

She didn't remember deciding to press the floor button, much less actually doing it, but she started rising back up as her hoof pressed the UP switch on her platform. As she got higher and higher above him, Johann simply sat himself on top of the bar, itself. Still slightly shorter, he smiled up at her, sliding his hands to the bare skin of her sides just under the hem of her blouse.

"I know you just got here," he said, "But I have the sudden urge to take you somewhere else. Somewhere more…private."

Then he smirked at himself. "I'd throw out another cliche and suggest going back to my place, but I'm still living out of a temporary company suite with Kar'in. Not that I'm a prude, but she'd turn us into a spectator sport complete with play by play commentary."

They both looked back to the booth where the Shil in question was trying to kiss two other women at the same time. "Besides, looks like she'll be bringing home the whole circus tonight."

Ihrfi clopped her hooves nervously as Johann gave her sides a gentle squeeze. And it wasn't JUST because she was terrified of him slipping off the bar.

"Did you say you lived alone?" he asked. "There's always your place, maybe."

Her place? Taking a man back to her place? Fear and anticipation warred with each other in her head. No man had ever been to her apartment except her husband! (Her father and son didn't count…they were males, but they were just family. They weren't A MAN.)

"My son is….oh, my son!"

Johann scrunched his eyes in the beginnings of a pout. "Oh ... .your son is at home, eh?"

Ihrfi stared at the wall for a moment, then smiled down at him. "No. He actually is NOT home tonight. His Art Club is doing a movie night, so they are all still at the school. He won't be home until tomorrow. That is why I could come out tonight."

"Well then!" Johann exclaimed excitedly, then nearly gave her heart attacks as he jumped off the bar to the floor. Then he held his hand up to take hers in it.

"Shall we, my beautiful lady?" he asked, his eyes filled with desire.

His coworker said humans are resilient. And tough. she thought to herself. I don't know if I can handle this.

"Yes," is what she actually said outloud, scooping him up to gently set him on her back.

What she wasn't thinking about any more was her two friends, who she hadn't noticed come in a couple of minutes earlier. The friends who immediately spied her talking to the exotic, buff male and had then quietly slid into a corral-booth to silently cheer her on. She, then, also didn't notice her friends giving each other quiet squees of delight as she cantered out of the door before her logical brain could talk her out of it.

NEXT

Credit to BlueFishcake and his original work.

Special thanks you

Plague Doc

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"Hello, Canada, and Far Away fans in the United States and Newfoundland."

Welcome back to the show. I hope you enjoy.

 

Previous / Part 1 \ Next

 

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System: Torika

Planet: Helathuna

Operation: You Got A Problem

“Fuck, I’m going to need to hose this off.” Riley groaned between winces as he tried to shift his weight. “Gonna need bruise cream too. That sucked.” His fingers tapped the armor carefully before he let out, in equal parts surprise and resignation, “Shit. I didn’t know the armor could take that.” He let out a ragged breath and let out a wet cough. “It also looked like a low explosive yield. Only enough for a kill switch with no collateral. You good?”

She looked down at the corpse and the aftermath of the micro detonators exploding. She said a silent thank you that she had kept Quinso isolated as the blue viscera and white skull smeared across the open lower jaw seeped into the rug underneath.

“Are you good?” She shot back as she rolled to her feet and checked her telemetry. “It says you got hit with a grenade.”

“Good thing our shit isn’t made by the lowest bidder,” he grumbled in response as he blinked the stars out of his eyes.

Reix surveyed the room. The damage was contained, and it was still presentable. The only thing containing the pressure of the explosives must have just been the bone. Luckily, they had not decided to start adding shrapnel yet. Outside the window, the relief force had reached the main gate to the compound.

“Fuck, it’s a few more ribs.” He flashed the okay sign before using it to flick a bit of chunky salsa from his arm, before poking his torso with his finger. “No. No, it just hurts. Nothing broken.” He picked up a blanket off the couch, wiped the remnants off his armor, and tossed a look at his commanding officer. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s nothing. We still need to find the medallion,” Reix briskly rebutted as she helped him to his feet.

Riley reached back to the nearby couch and grabbed the blanket again. He laid it over Lady Quinso to give the woman some dignity.

“No. No. I just took a grenade for you, and normal people don’t have suicide bombs in their fucking head.” He breathed again and could feel his lungs filling properly with air again. “The last fuckers that had shit like this were,” he breathed out as he suddenly remembered what he had noticed with his scans before the explosion. The internal chips designed to biologically alter someone’s state. Either through hormones or, as it now appeared, rapid disassembly. He could feel the conclusion of his realization leave his mouth before he could stop himself, “Ahh. Shit.”

Cranial implants.

Then there was Teach going after the family's data farm instead of helping secure the building, letting the hand-to-hand contest go on to keep the squadron distracted, and Reix personally handling the interrogation while keeping Echo busy by coordinating with the Interior. Doling out search patterns that kept everyone away from overhearing her and Quinso speaking. The only one brought close was him because she needed him to con Quinso into opening the data server.

A single conclusion came to mind.

He tried to keep his mouth shut to follow every soldier’s tried-and-true rules of ‘not my problem,’ but Reix decided to reward his deduction with a booby prize regardless.

“You were the distraction,” she murmured in resignation. “I needed flash and smoke, and didn’t want the rest of you involved in this.” She climbed to her feet. “Go check on the captives. We are leaving them here, and Googan already has her exaction plan. He walked out into the main hall and looked back to see the Boss grotesquely poking through the wreckage and bagging whatever shrapnel of the device she could find.

“So you gonna tell us what this op is?” He asked as he confirmed the other captives in the other room had not exploded.

Reix pushed the bag into her pocket and walked up next to him. “This was a Double side op, and the one I am working on is classified as Umberal Null. So for your own sanity, no.” Her voice grew with a genuine quickness as a hint of desperation began to burn on her tongue. “I am sorry, but we need to get the medallion.” They saw the lights of the troops approaching the building and heard them begin to stack up by the gate door, only to find it was still ‘locked’. “We need to go. There can’t be any trace we were here.”

She cocked her head to the side as she thought of something. “Radiation. Cosmic radiation,” was all she breathlessly murmured before she gave him a hand motion to turn around. He obliged and felt her go into his medical patrol bag and begin pulling something out.

Umberal Null.

Riley’s eye twitched at the designation.

Usually secrecy and clearance were designated by Violet Codes. Violet Zero was the highest clearance you could get. The only reason he had access to Violet Zero files was that he was piggybacking on Reix’s authority to do so. His working with Reix during the last six years was Violet Zero.

Umbral Null was the things that were forgotten or chained away. The types of information that, if you ever discovered it, you were not buried alongside it. You grabbed a shovel and helped keep it buried. Whatever was going on was way above his pay grade.

What worried him the most was the look in her eye. Something about the recesses of those golden irises told him three things. One, that the officer standing in front of him would tell him what was actually going on if he asked. Two, that her offer for leadership training for Division 118 might not have been entirely a scam to get him social training. Three, that the woman genuinely hoped he wouldn’t ask.

He simply nodded. “Rog. You ain’t even paying me my new rank for this gig. Umberal Null is above my level of fucks to give.”

The Interior officer lamented the loss of a valuable asset.

The woman who had watched him grow as a man was glad he said no.

Riley was really glad the adrenaline had kicked in because his ribs had stopped hurting. That was a problem for future Riley at the Wrap Party.

They only had a minute to find whatever Reix had deemed so critical that it would take precedence over a lady's head exploding. Both charged up the stairs toward the office where Riley and Bow had inserted themselves.

In an attempt to buy more time, Riley reached for the metal writing desk after reaching the top of the stairs. With a hefty shove, it flipped down the stairs where it would hopefully slow any Interior forces that would follow. The impact shattered the desk’s crystal top, and shrill flakes began rattling down to the main floor while Reix didn’t even bother to slow and instead shattered the wooden door as she charged through.

“Dancer, new plan. Extraction from the third-floor study. Same door you dropped us off at. Gonna pop a chem light on the balcony. Be ready,” Riley quickly reported as he tossed a pair of smoke grenades down the stairs and then caught up to Reix.

He was met with banging, metal scraping, and the rhythmic thudding of books as Reix began tearing the familiar room apart.

“Where the fuck is it!” Reix pleaded as she begged the counter to detect the faint radiation. “Come on!”

“Boss, just leave it! We have bigger shit to deal with, like what the fuck have you and Teach been doing behind our backs and the exploding head.” He began tossing the fake books, looking for a hiding place as well. He paused as he reached a few ones written in English and stashed them in a well-practiced, fluid motion before spotting a wall safe hidden behind the book. He was in luck it was a standard electronic safe. The sort you used to store documents in case of a fire instead of valuables, but judging by how it was hidden and how the newly purchased safe Rivet had cracked was what came up as the first result when someone searched for ‘Best Safe,’ he was willing to bet the family didn’t know that.

He jammed his tomahawk into the panel, ripped it out, and quickly connected the blue and white wires to one of his laser magazines. The magic purple smoke that made all electronics run wafted from the electronics, and he yanked the safe open to see what he could describe as a plain, grinning mask that reminded him of the ones a Venetian clown wore. The smile was unsettling, though. Like an omen unheeded was coming to collect its due.

He checked his loot bag, surprised himself by how much loot he had grabbed on autopilot, and began to reach for the maybe expensive mask when Reix bellowed, “No, you don’t get it! We will talk about that later. Right now I am compartmentalizing on something I can do right. I NEED to find the medallion.” She shot back as she ripped drawers out of an end table and threw them with enough force that they were damaging the wall behind her. “Everything else went wrong tonight, and I walked us right into it, let me do this at least.” She dumped the contents of a drawer on the floor before tossing it away. “You haven’t seen the orders. Art and culture are to be taken for ‘the glory of the Empire’,” Reix shot back as she swept the paintings off the wall, looking for another hidden safe. Her face “Cultural victories though - accomplishments that humanity did before the Shil - that stuff gets destroyed and buried!” She ripped off another cheap reproduction painting before tossing it and ripping into another bookshelf. “Can’t have the primitives showing us up!” She darkly repeated in a mocking tone.

Riley heard the desk he had thrown being pulled out of the way and shouts about where the smoke was coming from. They were running out of time.

“We have to go,” he repeated with a heavy finality.

“You don’t get it!” She frantically yelled.

“Stop fucking distracting me from what I saw downstairs by acting like you give a shit about this artifact more than what Teach and you are up to. Do me that courtesy at least.”

Reix threw a fist into the table in frustration, the impact ripping through her arm and dropping the string of tears she had been trying to hold back onto the table. Riley had seen her faking her emotions before, but he had never seen his friend this worked up before. “I am so close to saving them all,” she whispered as she kept scanning with Riley’s radiation counter. “I love my Empire, but I hate what it is. We had a chance, one fucking chance to fix it with Earth, and they ruined it. But I, We, have a chance if we dig in and fight, and right now I am going to fight to save Earth. Not just the ball of rock, but her soul, even if you aren’t going to help me.”

There was something too raw about how his Boss was acting. Her mission was important, but she was risking that operation’s success for whatever trinket she was looking for. It left him with one realization.

“Holy shit,” he concluded in genuine surprise. “The servers were... You actually came for these artifacts, didn’t you?”

“Please help me look. We fucked up so much, but I can start trying to heal it.” She tossed another drawer out of the cabinet and checked another. “It’s not too late. I can fix this!” She loudly shouted as she went back to waving the reader across the room in hopes of finding what she was looking for. She turned back to Riley to see him pulling security. “Please, help me do this! It wasn’t supposed to go this way with Earth. I wanted diplomacy, not whatever fucking slaughter they picked. Maybe I can still fix this if I can,” her hand shook as she held them out to him pleadingly, “help me look. Help me save your home, and help me save mine.”

He had seen her distressed before, but something about this was different. Maybe her mask slipped, maybe she finally let some of the stress she held out. Instead of the usual regal commander he was used to seeing, he was watching a desperate woman tearing apart an expensive study for a trinket from another world.

He listened as someone tripped coming up the stairs before moving to the most likely place where valuables would be hidden.

“Thank you,” she gasped in a tension-infused exhale.

“We are going to talk about this later, though,” he sternly informed her as he heard the people growing closer. He pulled a pair of smoke grenades off his chest, pulled the pins, and tossed one down the stairs while leaving the second near the top to fill the room with more smoke. “We are running out of time, it sounds like they reached the bottom cus I hear boots on the broken glass.”

Just as he wedged a table behind the door to pin them in, the tension was cut as his radiation counter began squawking at the presence of background radiation. On his visor’s HUD, an alert of safe levels of cosmic and solar particles blipped from where Reix had finally picked up a trace of them.

She set the counter into her pocket after checking the signal once again. “Oh,” Reix gently whispered as she walked toward the main desk in the center of the room, its items still askew from where he and Esba had fought. “This is where she kept it. All these years and it’s just in a desk -“Her hand reached and gripped nothing. She tried again before bending down and then bolting back to her feet. “Where are the drawers?”

Riley’s head turned from the desk to the open doors behind Reix overlooking the parking lot. Then to the other side of the mansion where Dancer had come to land.

“Ah…see,” he started before a voice came from outside.

“Why are their drawers out here? Agents, secure this as evidence.” Reix and Riley leaned out the window to see the agent in charge pick up a small rounded metal pipe. The senior agent’s face went pale as she stuffed it into her pocket before quipping to herself, “I’m going to get a promotion if this matches the list.” The agent began to walk away and reach for the radio on one of the Interior’s escort motorcycles.

Reix closed her eyes in defeat. “Fuck.” The word was primordial with frustration. “That is my last shot.” She grabbed his shoulder and dragged him to the gunship. “We need to go. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Her words became disjointed as she spoke. She didn’t need to say it, but he could see in her eyes that she knew it was his fault the drawers were missing. His fault that her dream of recovering whatever it was would never be fulfilled. His fault she would have to carry that from now on.

Riley felt the weight of the defeat. He was responsible for her losing the artifact and what piece of history it could have saved from Earth. It wasn’t like he could go retrieve it. DHC armor was sort of noticeable, but the visor was iconic.

His eyes glanced at the mask he had left in the wall safe as they moved past, then to the cargo bay and his jacket hanging next to Dancer’s door.

An idea formed.

A bad idea.

Frankly, a really fucking bad idea, but all great ideas in history really came down to sticking the landing. Lose, and you were a moron; pull it off, and you were a tactical genius.

The trick was to either pull out when the plan was blown or gamble on victory.

And as Elinee and Dovis could attest…

“How important is the object?” Riley simply asked as he walked up to his motorcycle jacket and threw it on, tossing his helmet aside, but kept the earpiece and radio.

Reix looked back at the house and mumbled, “My kingdom for a horse.” She was about to seal up the ramp when she learned exactly what Elinee and Dovis could attest to.

Riley was not a man to pull out.

He dropped the shotgun, snagged a pack of multi grenades from Barns, and boosted past Reix back into the house.

“Oh, you fucker!” Bow yelled as Dancer took of,d unknowingly leaving Riley behind. “No, Riley jumped out! Go back!”

“Skítur,” Dancer drawled as she had to commit to her climb. “Puddles mun drepa mig ef hún kemst að þessu.” She continued to throttle up until she could begin circling back. “Jæja, ég lóða mótorinn þannig að hann skili hámarksafköstum næst þegar ég fæ þetta lánað hjá henni,” she smirked with a hint of a blush as she lined up for another pinnacle landing.

In the jacket, he wasn’t obviously a commando. The custom armor also helped to make him less noticeable, but there was still the matter of his face. Luckily, he knew something that would fit, just not over his helmet, so that had to be left. He grabbed the mask out of the safe and put it on. The mask was a dark grey clay. Flecks of paint remained, but it had mostly fallen away through either age or lack of care. It was smooth inside, but the straps on the back kept it secure.

He acknowledged that he could have just used a bandana, but he also knew that sometimes Lady Luck let you get away with more in life if you did things with style, confidence, and committed to the bit.

He had to move quickly and use surprise to pull this off. His suit still had the LRAD speakers, so they would be useful. He just had to psyops the fuck out of this. His boots landed on the railing overlooking the parking lot, and he flicked a grenade directly into the group of Interior and Militia.

The first thing that told the women on the ground something was wrong was the metallic clank of the hockey puck-shaped object landing on the stone driveway. Moments later, a thick cloud of rapidly expanding IR smoke filled the space.

“What the fuck was that?” One of the troopers yelled as Riley primed another grenade.

”Okay, they are confused and don’t know what is going on. We don’t want to fight them, but we do want to scare them into not fighting us.” An idea took him as he flicked the grenade from fragmentation to flashbang. “Time to fuck with them.”

“Baker, what are you doing!” Reix demanded over the radio as the gunship moved to a safe distance. “Use the smoke and get out of there! Head to the mountainside and boost down. We will pick you up.”

The squadron quickly switched their HUD’s Picture in Picture to the outside cameras to watch what was going on. The signals coming from his suit cut through the IR smoke, and they watched his outline, having already landed on the ground and now waiting in the middle of the smoke, as it continued to waft across the courtyard.

“Oi, our medicman gone right off’em’self ain’t’he?” Barns postulated as she watched their medic try a few intimidating poses before deciding to hunch over like a waiting beast.

Bow simmered in annoyance as she recognized the stance.

“Brotherfucker is doing the thing I do to intimidate people!” Bow protested. “Look. Look! Five credits says he is going to throw his arms back and roar next.”

“Yeah, it looks fucking terrifying, so I am going to steal it!” Riley agreed as he plotted his route. “Everyone stay on comms; I am going to need help with this. Rivet, get into their systems and start patching us in. We have their frequencies, so just scramble the IDs. Kalga, you are good at acting; feed misdirection. Dancer, get ready for a hot extract. Boss, stop yelling at me and get personal files for everyone down here. The rest of you, stay ready.”

 

---

 

The smoke began to clear as the troopers accompanying the Interior agent took cover while the smoke dissipated into the night air. The sounds of the city fell away; only the hiss of smoke from the metal cylinder broke the foreboding silence.

The women adjusted their weapons as they tried and failed to see what was hiding in the IR smoke. A light breeze began shifting the cloud, and they caught the briefest glance of a hunched figure waiting for them. Its breathing was heavy, exaggerated, and vibrating with malice as its head slowly turned to look at them.

“Whatever that thing is, it wants what you, agent! Just give it back!” Someone yelled over the radios.

The agent didn’t think she recognized the voice, but she was watched as the creature’s arm raised like a puppet on jerking strings to point at her.

“Hold FIRE!” Another voice ordered over the radio, and the troopers obeyed.

“Does anyone know who that is?” The agent demanded as she drew her pistol and loosely aimed it at the figure. She thought maybe it was one of the commandos who did the infiltration and takedown for them, but the figure’s profile didn’t fit. She couldn’t see the glowing eyes, and its head looked too sculpted to fit the familiar contours of their helmets. Instead of a sleek torso, it had on a baggy garment.

Most noticeable whoever she was had no tits and was short.

Her twelve-year-old son was taller than that thing.

“Identify yourself!” She forcefully demanded.

She could see it tilt its head in response. When she was about to call out to it again, she watched as it launched itself to the side, far farther than anyone that size could jump while still crouched.

“Contact!” Another trooper came on the radio. “Movement at the north side compound!” There was a cold chill as the trooper asked quietly, “Do we know any races that have eight legs? We are seeing stuff out here?”

“We are seeing something similar along the East wall, too,” someone reported.

Another voice came back. “The perimeter team has missed their check-in.”

The agent waved a pod forward to flank when the figure in the smoke finally made their move. Without a word, the figure launched themselves bodily out of the smoke, driving their shoulder into the unprepared side of one of the militia, sending her sprawling to the ground. Before her podmates could turn to react, the unknown individual dropped into a slide and accelerated into the back of the second woman’s knees. Frustratingly for the Militiawomen, their target always kept a friendly behind him so they could never line up a proper shot out of fear of friendly fire. Before the second woman hit the ground, the agent watched as the attacker rolled forward, planted both feet on the ground, and launched themselves high into the air before instantly stopping and impossibly changing their angle of attack into the final pod member. The unlucky militiawoman turned in time to see a boot land on her helmet’s faceplate before the kit sent her sprawling backward and through the window of one of the cars they had arrived in.

The agent tried to draw a bead on the deepling, but it was moving too quickly. One of her pods was down in mere seconds by a creature moving more erratically than even a stunt exo could pull off. The dread turned to despair as she watched whatever it was land on the roof of the car before briefly sliding across it and launching toward a wall. It stuck to the vertical surface for a split second, and then leaped to a light pole where it hung. A sickening feeling took over as she and her troops realized it was crouching on a vertical surface using only its feet while its hands pawed at its head frantically.

Two of the guards came on the radio and yelled in panic.

“Fuck this! I’m out of here!”

“Every woman for themselves!”

Fed up with the insubordination, the agent checked the radio codes but saw that the identification tags were not working. “To whoever is speaking, STAY IN POSITION! If you abandon your - “

“Contact at the convoy! One of them just tore through cannon with its bare hands!”

The troops began to skitter from cover and fallback in disorganization. Only the agent and sergeant caught the mistake.

The sergeant keyed her radio. “Everyone HOLD POSITION! We rode in on Axcko Twos! They don’t have cannons, and we don’t leave guards on the Axcko. It wasn’t our girls that reported that.”

“They hacked our comm channels!” The agent reported.

Reix’s voice jumped into the Interior channel. “Hooligan Actual to ground. We are receiving reports of secondary contacts. Please update. Do you require assistance?” Her voice was dry, but Riley could hear the woman enjoying her part in the performance despite how annoyed she was at him leaving the bird to begin with.

“We are under attack by unknown - “

She slammed her hands to the side of her head and fell to her knees as blistering pain and nauseating screams crashed into her like a steel-toed boot to the head. A wail of what sounded like vocal cords being torn by barbed wire flowing through them pounded her skull. She looked up just enough to see everyone reacting in turn, but only those without helmets were incapacitated. When the noise subsided, she looked up to see the creature launch itself from the pole, hit the ground with a slide before blinking around the grip of one of her militia and snatching the rifle out of her hand. It began abyssally howling again. The same tortured lament as before, while throwing its head back like a Rakiri on the hunt. In a fluid motion, it dropped the magazine and hurled the empty weapon at another. The target dodged but was unable to draw a bead on the creature as it dropped into a slide and rocketed underneath one of the trucks. Before it fully disappeared, it turned to look at the agent and began clawing at the ground to change its direction. A cacophony of voices emitted from its sickening smile as it did.

“Give it back. Give it back! GIVE IT BACK! YOU STOLE THEIR REST! Give it back or SING them their rest!”

Finally having had enough, the agent pointed to her sergeant. “Get everyone out of here and call for reinforcement.” She wouldn’t abandon the militia, but whatever they were fighting was too…aberrant…to deal with right now.”

“Whatever you found, just give it back! Empress!” Her militia sergeant yelled at her before she keyed her radio. “Reform the perimeter on me. Whoever this is, it hasn't killed anyone yet, so hold your fire.” The agent tried to argue, but the Sergeant would not let them. “They are pulling their punches, and I see knives on it. I don’t want to piss this thing off if we can’t kill it or if it gives them an excuse to use those blades on us.”

“This thing is an important piece of evidence,” the agent reported back as one of her troopers ran to the other side of the truck their attacker slid under while one got onto the ground to look. “I promise you it has no interest in this evidence.”

Suddenly the sun appeared from under the truck directly into the face of the woman lying on the ground. The creature rolled back out, over the woman, and grabbed her rifle and tossed it away, leaving a lit smoke grenade in its place. The trooper furiously tried to wipe the temporary blindness from her eyes as her attacker blinked to another trooper to disarm her as well, as it slowly worked its way toward the agent.

“Ma’am, respectfully,” the sergeant started before watching their opponent fling itself into another trooper, sending her ungracefully sprawling to the ground, and having her dropped gun kicked away across the stone driveway and into the darkness. Between telling her team not to shoot and now, she watched the masked figure disarm another three of her troopers. “Screw it. I am going to shoot it.” She hit her radio. “It’s in the open, no crossfire. Get low and shoot it! Open fire!” She watched as it planted its feet on a car to stop its momentum before redirecting itself at her. She felt another nauseating blast of sound, but her helmet dampened most of it, but couldn’t polarize fast enough to stop the return of the bright light flashing in her eyes. She felt her weapon jostle and took a wild swing with its butt but only connected with the empty space where her assailant used to be.

The agent watched the masked figure move away from her Militia escort and toss another smoke grenade into the fray. One hand tightened on her pistol, the other on the object she had found lying on the ground. It was clear whoever this was had not meant to kill them since she could see the pistol, knives, and small axe attached to its webbing. That, and because she was worried about hitting friendly targets, were the only reasons she had not shot them, but she finally had a clear firing line on it.

She aimed her pistol at its legs and fired. The fighter had been clever. It was too quick to accurately target, had used cover and concealment to avoid being seen, and stayed close to her troops to exploit Militia fire discipline doctrine. The bolt struck its leg, and the figure paused for a fraction of a second to register the hit.

It screamed again, not in pain, but that same howl it had been using to hurt her troops. However, she curiously noticed that no debilitating nausea followed. Even more interestingly, both she and the fighter seemed surprised by the lack of effect. She swore she could hear a male voice speaking to someone behind the mask.

“What do you mean limited use and cooldowns?”

“Wait? Is that a boy’s voice?” She asked out loud as her mind processed the new info. Her mistake was shown to her as she saw him holding a flashlight and shone it at her eyes to blind her. As she winced, she felt the wind off the individual charging past her. A hand gripped her wrist, and she felt her arm twist as he put pressure on it. He could have broken her arm if he kept pressing, but her fingers were forced to let go of the artifact she had recovered.

He let go and blinked to her front before she could bring her pistol to bear. She felt a slight resistance as his hand caught her gun, but she easily wrestled it free. She began to blink away the light when suddenly the man was back in front of her with a curved knife like a Rakiri’s claw. Her eyes went wide, and she leveled her gun at his head just as he slipped the blade inside her belt and cut her holster and spare magazines away before flinging the belt over his shoulder like a bandolier. He ducked the pistol, planted his hand hard onto her waist, and pushed away from her. He dropped to slide a short distance away, and with another sudden burst of movement, he tumbled to a stop near her interior motorcycle.

That was when she finally caught the scent coming off her attacker.

Much like Humans, Shil’vati had something similar to the Proust effect when smell was heavily engaged in memory. The smell of cooked metal, ozone, and tangy chemicals brought the agent back to many a shuttle flight line and long nights helping her sister in the mechanics bay.

“That is the smell of overcooked thrusters,” she confidently said. “You have miniature gravity thrusters.” She swung her pistol to aim at his chest. “That is why you have been moving so erratically. I used to fly, so I know the smell they make when you push your thrusters too far, and they start to fail.” She lowered the power setting on her pistol in hopes to wound him and taking him alive. “I am impressed, but you are under arrest for assaulting my Militia.” She tapped her earpiece. “And under arrest for the killing of Lady Quinso. Surrender. Your friend spoofing our radios is not going to help you anymore.”

Riley looked at the open gate and continued to back away until he bumped into the motorcycle and ran out of room.

“You can’t escape. We will shoot you if you try to run,” the agent announced as troopers began to climb to their feet or run off to find their discarded weapons. The agent almost sighed as she watched him jump on the bike and try to kick-start it. “You don’t have the keys. If you try to hotwire it, I will shoot you. You positioned yourself well, but there is no one standing behind you, and we all have a clear shot.”

She looked at her belt draped over his shoulder, thinking of the Human artifact she had stored in one of the compartments. She needed to stop him before they made a run for it.

To her relief, she watched as the figure rested a hand on the slot electronic key fob would sit before they held both hands in the air. To her dismay, she watched as one hand curled back on itself, leaving the index and middle finger only pointing skyward - the Shil’vati signal for ‘go fuck yourself ’. Her relief turned to panic as he opened the other hand to reveal her keychain and bike keys. The same keys she kept in her pocket.

She patted where his hand had pushed off from her waist and realized he had pickpocketed her.

He had also stolen her wallet.

And some gum she had.

She pulled the trigger and heard it go click. A sudden wave of acceptance washed over her as she scolded herself for not realizing that would have happened, too.

“When you swatted the gun away,” she correctly concluded, deducing he had hit the magazine release after tearing away her ammo belt.

The man on the bike playfully tossed the pilfered magazine into a bush, turned the key, and kicked the bike to life.

“Don’t take that,” the agent yipped as she began running at him while her troopers began collapsing on their position. Some managed to take shots at him, but he was already moving behind cover again. Others jumped into the APC to try to block his escape. “Don’t!” She yelled again.

Being the shit disturber he was, Riley licked his lips, made sure his ECM had been active the entire time, and put on his best French accent. “Catch me later, Mademoiselle.”

With an engine’s howl, she watched in dismay as her motorcycle popped onto its back wheel and took off into the crowd of descending Milita - again using friendly troopers to avoid getting shot. Playfully weaving past their outstretched arms. Ducking low, he cruised below the extended bumper of the APC and out the open gate.

As the agent ran for another vehicle, she saw a few of her troopers driving after the flashing green and blue lights as they dipped behind a curve and into the night.

---

  Previous / Part 1 \ Next

 

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Sorry all about the delay. This chapter needed a few rewrites to get right and to set up a few things in the future. I have the next one ready for sure. I promise that. Please feel free to leave a comment below on letting me know what to improve on. Thank you again for reading, and once again I apologize about the delay.

Additionally, I called the last post 110 by mistake, so I need to reupload to fix. Sorry about that.

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The Man in the Spire: Book 1, Chapter 28
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What We Choose to Be
--------------

Troy Rechlin — Major, Peacekeeper Union Corp
Nanhu Palace — Tower of Provincial Records

As Troy swung through the window frame, one thought repeated over and over in his mind.

This was really stupid.

That thought echoed through the moment he let go of the rope and cleared the wooden window frame, discovering the floor was two stories farther down than expected. That realization came with full force when the floorboards slammed into his back.

Troy could not feel pain for obvious reasons, but that did not stop a flood of impact warnings from filling the HUD. The sound of grinding metal filled the room as his body skidded across the wooden floor before finally coming to a stop near the center, with just enough force to knock a porcelain vase off its stand by the end.

Internal systems took a moment to recalibrate and the wave of red flashing warnings to dissipate before Troy was back on his feet, shotgun drawn one-handed toward the tower's entrance doors. His eyes went back and forth between the ruined hand and the doors.

The synthetic skin had been stripped from one hand, leaving splinters of rope lodged between the exposed joints. The metal beneath glowed red from friction. Skeletal fingers twitched as control slowly returned. By night's end, there probably would not be enough left of him to call human.

Though the hand was still recovering its function, Troy still attempted a few improvised fixes, starting with pulling a jagged length of wood from his chest while keeping the gun leveled at the entrance. The delay had given his enemies plenty of time to catch up. A horde could charge through the doors at any moment and bury him beneath sheer numbers.

With a thought, the Homewrecker switched to full auto, ready to start blasting away. He wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Yet no one came.

“Talk to me, buddy,” Troy said aloud rather than using the private channel. “Where are they? Why aren’t they following?”

“Examining surveillance around the structure now,” Hordak replied. Several camera feeds opened across Troy’s vision. “No forces appear to be pursuing. Cultivators and mortal guards have instead surrounded the exits. The magistrate personally ordered them not to approach.”

Transcripts appeared over several guards stationed outside. None seemed to know why they had been ordered to hold back. The cultivators grumbled amongst themselves, arms crossed while standing in the rain, clearly unhappy at being reduced to standing watch over an empty doorway rather than take the prize themselves. The mortal guards kept murmuring back and forth, trading guesses what monster could cause so much havoc.

Troy thought through the possible reasons this area might be off-limits. One stood out immediately. “Oh shit. Did I just desecrate holy ground or something?”

Technically, this entire event was already a public relations first-contact nightmare. His superior officers and whatever political authorities that would get involved would lose their minds when they learned how many diplomatic incidents had been created in a single night, let alone this entire visit to this messed-up world.

A quick inspection made the chamber look less like a holy site and more like a scholar’s observatory forced to share space with a military command room. Low tables ringed the floor beneath shelves packed with furled and unfurled scrolls, rolled banners, jade tablets, and rows of ceremonial weapons too ornate for regular use. Viewing balconies overlooked the chamber from above, positioned toward the training grounds beyond the walls.

Maps covered nearly half the room. The grandest had been painted across silk. Others were rougher campaign maps drawn across paper, many covered in temporary markings and revisions. Grand Nanhu, Grand Beihu, and the lands surrounding Língmu Lake had been rendered in obsessive detail. Roads, rivers, sect territories, tribute routes, and border forts crowded together until there was barely room between them.

The farther the maps reached from the empire, the less certain they became. Named roads gave way to vague trails. Cities became isolated marks surrounded by empty space. Beyond the borders lay painted clouds, monstrous beasts, warning symbols, and mountain ranges drawn more like legends than geography. Foreign kingdoms appeared as little more than names pressed against the edges of the known world. A very "here be dragons" sense to it.

It was surreal to find a world filled with so much fantasy and so little certainty about itself. For an empire so convinced of its place beneath Heaven, it knew remarkably little about what lay beyond its borders. Or perhaps that was all this "empire" cared to know.

“Hordak, make sure you get a copy of all this.”

“Understood.”

The AI began extracting what it could from Troy’s recordings. There was no time to study everything now, but every scrap of information might prove useful later. If nothing else, it would give Troy something concrete to hand over to the chain of command and lessen the verbal ass-chewing waiting back home.

Hordak had already begun constructing maps through aerial and satellite surveillance after the Silver Lily arrived, but those could only show terrain. Routes, settlements, and borders meant little without knowing who controlled them or what purpose they served. Only the people who lived here could provide that context.

As for the room itself, the conclusion was obvious. It was clear this was the logistics center of the Magistrate's administration. Nothing significant for an escaping man. Which led to the only other conclusion. It was a trap, and Troy had no choice but to go through it.

Regret was beginning to pile up. Not so much over tonight, but over decisions made long before any of this insanity began. Decisions that, had Troy made differently, would have made the entire disaster far less tedious or outright avoided entirely.

"No, Troy," he muttered in a high, mocking voice, letting a little insanity creep in as the exposed metal hand finally regained functionality. "You don't need to upgrade to the V3 or V4 C.O.G. models. You're retiring in eight months. No need to let anyone scoop your brain out and put it into something better. Just be stupidly stubborn, as always! It's not like you're going to get teleported into another reality with ANGRY PSYCHOPATHIC WOMEN AROUND EVERY CORNER!"

Troy let the rant carry him, boots eating up the corridor faster with every word, finishing it with, "BECAUSE KNOWING BETTER AIN'T NEVER STOPPED THIS DUMBASS! NO SIR!"

The words died in the large corridor ahead of him, lost to stone and static rain before they could even echo.

The deeper Troy went, the quieter the halls became. Only the sound of the storm followed him now. Thunder rolled overhead, rain drumming against the roof in a steady, indifferent rhythm. Wind howling against the siding. Each flash of lightning bled through the open windows, bleaching the carved walls white before the dark folded back over them.

The training grounds were close. Only a few rooms and the wrecked Barracuda stood between escape and imprisonment.

The tinman pressed on, pace quickening, shotgun checking every shadow as he passed. Passive torches along the corridor gave off little more than a dull amber glow, leaving long stretches of shadow between them.

Then the corridor ended at a pair of tall wooden doors, heavier than anything else he'd passed. Iron banding reinforced the frame, and the wood itself had gone dark with age, worn smooth around the handles by more hands than he cared to guess at.

Troy stopped short and pressed against the wall beside them, keeping clear of the center seam. Water dripped off what remained of his ruined uniform, pattering against the floorboards in a rhythm that felt far too loud for how quiet the hall had gotten.

“Hordak, are the drones picking up anything inside?”

“Negative, sir. Vision is limited but the chamber appears clear of immediate threats.”

“Anything special about the room?”

“Negative,” Hordak repeated. “According to intercepted conversation, this chamber is known as the Trophy Hall.”

"Of course it is." Eyes rolled, more habit than feeling.

Troy kept one shoulder against the wall and glanced toward the corridor behind him. Still no one followed. It would have mistakenly seemed like a nice change of luck had Hordak not still been tracking the dozens of soldiers waiting just outside the walls to get their hands on him.

“Only way through?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. Proceed with caution.”

Troy forced out something close to a sigh. Nothing could ever be simple.

He eased one door inward and worked the angle with the shotgun at the ready. Muzzle first, offered up like bait for anything waiting to strike. Then one eye. Then the rest of him, clearing the nearest corners in quick succession. Standard practice for a non-standard situation.

Clear so far.

Darkness filled the chamber. Only scattered points of pale radiance broke through the black, illuminating creepy silhouettes. Troy’s night vision adjusted, and shapes began to emerge.

Animals. Dozens of them. Or at least some sort of fantastical versions of themselves.

A fox crouched atop a blue stone sphere, flames frozen along its tail. A bear larger than an armored vehicle reared near the far wall, jaws spread around a roar that would never come. Deer heads watched from above, their antlers glowing with soft inner light. Smaller creatures had been arranged among artificial branches and rocks, mice and squirrels with white fur bright enough to cast thin shadows beneath them.

Each display bore a plaque.

Claimed by Qian Qian's Glory

Whoever that was, they certainly had a hobby.

The hall stretched beneath a high timbered ceiling, more hunting lodge than palace chamber. A broad wooden chandelier hung from an iron chain overhead, its tiered frame supporting a ring of silk lanterns painted with red-crowned cranes. Beyond it, a staircase descended toward the training grounds.

Troy advanced one careful step at a time, the shotgun moving wherever he looked. He checked the displays, the windows, and every dark gap between the exhibits as he moved.

The whole hall was filled with things that looked alive but were not. Glass eyes. Open jaws. Bodies trapped forever in the shape of life, posed as though they might break free at any moment.

Troy understood the poor beast's fate more than he wanted to.

“Halt!”

Troy stopped mid-step.

Lightning flashed beyond the windows, turning the hall white for a mere second and revealing why Hordak had stopped him. A single strand of wire hung so close to Troy's face that another half-step would have carried it straight through his throat.

With an adjustment to his vision, hundreds more wires came into view, crossing the chamber from floor to ceiling, stretched between pillars, trophies, balconies, and beams, overlapping until the entire hall seemed wrapped in a web of metal.

He looked around, finding no easy way through. Grabbing a hunting knife from a nearby display case, he figured he could cut a path. He swiped at the nearest strand. Instead of a snap of thread, a sharp ting rang out as the severed blade tip hit the floor. The wire had sheared clean through the steel like it was nothing.

"Of course it would..." He tossed the ruined knife aside.

A sinister giggle drifted through the darkness. The shotgun came up as Troy searched the beams above, but nothing moved among the shadows. Behind him, the doors slammed shut. Threads snapped across the wood in rapid succession, sealing the exit beneath a black lattice.

There it was.

The trap.

"My, my, my…" Blue fire bloomed along the wall lamps, spilling cold light across the room, reflecting off glass eyes and frozen fangs. "Since you arrived in our humble domain, I could not fathom why my master had taken such a deep interest in something so small and benign as you."

The sound of plucked strings filled the air. Troy's HUD lit with highlighted lines as Hordak mapped the threads around him, thousands layering across his vision until the entire room became a cage of simmering metal. "Never has the magistrate put so much focus and effort into such beings. Chasing a fairytale from sea to sea. For a being of such high stature, my master has chosen something in a broken little toy."

"But... despite my master's attempts, I had to see for myself what made you special," the voice continued. "I watched as you stumbled your way through our domain. The way you moved through the castle. The way you slipped past the magistrate and her pet despite their attempts to stop you And most of all, you stepped over every trap I had so painstakingly prepared for decades without triggering a single one. Traps designed to keep insects from ever making it far. It was... deliciously maddening."

A soft, delighted laugh drifted through the hall. Hordak marked movement above and Troy raised the shotgun toward the source.

A ratkin lounged among the wires near the ceiling, cradled in them as comfortably as if they were a silk hammock. A black hood woven from the same metallic thread framed a narrow, sharp-featured face. Bright eyes watched Troy with the patient interest of a spider studying an insect caught in its web. One rounded ear protruded through the hood, its edge lined with tiny rings from which more black threads hung.

"Not much of an assassin if you reveal yourself," Troy called out. He didn't buy it for a second. A deliberate reveal from said assassin meant something was still being decided. Keep the talking going and keep the violence at bay. "Qian Qian, I assume? Planning to add me to this depraved collection? Don't think your boss would like that."

The ratkin covered her mouth with one claw and laughed. “Please. Lady Qian Qian is loud, proud, and desperate to have every victory admired. She is the voice of the magistrate’s power.”

A sharp fingernail brushed across one of the threads. The wire sang beneath it. “I am Jin Yun. I am called upon when my beloved master desires silence.”

She unfolded from the web and balanced upon a single strand, back straight and hands folded neatly before her. For a moment, the mad woman looked every bit like the composed palace officials Troy had encountered throughout the castle. Her smile grew before settling back into courtly warmth.

"As the magistrate's spymaster, it is my duty to return you to her." Jin's gaze wandered over Troy's damaged body. The exposed metal beneath torn skin. The scorched hand. The weapon held ready despite everything already done to him. Then her composure slipped. Both ears lifted. Her tail tightened around the wire, and an eager shiver ran through her body. "But I just have to know how you did it."

The threads tightened around her fingers as if responding to the sudden excitement.

"How can I in good faith let such a chance slip by? Was it ignorance? Your curse? Fate or dumb luck? To survive so much, even from my own threads! Had you been anyone else, you would have walked through and been sliced into pieces without even knowing it."

The reason the guards stayed away from this place came and went.

Jin leaned forward, letting the wires coil around her arms, eyes bright with hungry fascination. A pleased tremor passed through her tail as a twisted giggle escaped her. “I must know how far this can go! How many threads will it take before you stop moving? How much can I remove before you finally submit?”

Great. Just another freak in this wonderland of insanity.

The crazed woman blinked, as if only then remembering herself. Her posture straightened, and she delicately smoothed the front of her robe. The pleasant smile returned, though the excitement behind it remained.

Jin dropped from the web and landed lightly on a lower strand, buckling under her weight. It thrummed beneath her feet like a plucked harp string. Troy’s barrel followed without wavering as she came closer.

"Oh, what a dreadful conundrum." Her head tilted back and forth, like she was debating what to eat for dinner. "What is this Jin Yun to do with such an impossible little puzzle?"

The rat rolled lazily into the wires, letting the web cradle her like a hammock. "On the one hand, I must obey my master without question. Her will is mine to carry out."

The web turned her over. Jin emerged upside down, robes hanging toward the floor as the polished smile stretched into something hungry. "On the other, I simply cannot allow something so dangerous near her before I understand how it works." Her eyes gleamed as another giggle escaped. "At least, that is what I intend to tell myself."

She rolled free of the wires and landed upright on a single strand, arms opening as though welcoming an honored guest. “Troy Rechlin, I offer you the mercy of my master. Surrender, and this game may conclude without further incident.” The word "incident" barely left her lips before the twisted grin returned. “But I do hope you refuse.”

Troy kept the shotgun trained on her. “You’re two kinds of fucked up wearing the same bra.” Jin’s smile twitched, already knowing where the answer was going. “And just like your master, you can shove the offer where the sun doesn’t shine.”

The last trace of courtly restraint vanished. Jin lowered her stance. Her fingers curled around the threads, and every wire in the chamber drew taut with a metallic hum.

"Then I trust my master will forgive me..." she whispered, dropping into a respectful bow, acting as if this was some honorable duel. Her head snapped back up, and whatever composure remained gave way to something wild-eyed and hungry, a look built for nothing but violence. "...If I return you in pieces. Make it worth my while, Outsider."

Troy acted first and pulled the trigger.

Jin was already gone before a single pellet made contact. She dropped back, folding around a wire and swinging beneath it in one fluid motion, like the threads had been waiting to catch her. Buckshot tore through empty air where her chest had been a half-second before.

“Hordak, predictive pathing!”

A red outline locked around the ratkin. Yellow trajectories spread from her position, branching across Troy's vision faster than he could follow. Every wire she touched answered with a musical note, high and bright and utterly wrong for the violence underneath it. She danced through the web, each step plucking another string until the hall filled with a harp-like melody, making a symphony while she was fighting.

There were so many options. Every time the assassin moved, a new collection of predictions formed. He fired along the path that was marked the brightest.

Jin hooked one leg around a strand and swung aside. The blast missed her by a mile and tore the snout from a mounted buck.

“Such a noisy weapon,” she called, hanging upside down by her tail. “And terribly predictable.”

He responded with another blast but once again she was too fast. She pulled on her tail and snapped upward, vanishing among the threads. Buckshot snapped several threads but found nothing else.

Jin spun in the air. A flick of wrist sent narrow blades flying toward him, less like knives than oversized sewing needles. Troy shifted aside and the needles buried themselves in the floor near his boots with two sharp metallic taps, close enough that he could hear their metallic hum.

He brought the weapon around, hunting for her through the tangle web. Jin had already relocated to the far end of the hall, loose threads looped around her fingers like she was warming up rather than preparing to kill him. Her arms spread wide, and she swept them through the air like a cat pouncing on prey.

The floor erupted into a black wave. The strands tore upward in a widening grid, slicing through the exhibits as they swept toward him, shredding fur and lacquered wood alike without slowing. A massive stuffed bear came apart in neat, surgical cubes. Hordak marked the only opening left, a narrow gap already starting to close.

Troy took the chance and leapt through. Several threads scraped across his uniform, peeling cloth and synthetic skin from his side, but he cleared the net and hit the floor rolling.

The prediction matrix flared again. A fighter this skilled wouldn't leave an opening without planning what came after it. Two more needles flashed past Troy's head and struck the floor behind him, wide enough that for a heartbeat he almost let himself believe they'd simply missed.

He understood why a moment too late. The deadly threads ran from the needles back to Jin's hands, and she gave a simple tug.

Hordak's warning came with milliseconds to spare. Troy threw himself sideways, but the wires caught his left arm in a scissor motion. A sharp metallic snap cut through the hall, and the limb separated clean at the bicep, striking the floor several feet away with exposed cable and synthetic muscle.

For half a second, Troy only stared at the severed limb.

His body flooded the missing connection with error messages. Balance shifted. Weapon control recalculated. Internal systems rerouted around the loss before his mind fully caught up.

His arm was gone. If he were human, he'd probably be screaming and clutching a bleeding wound. Instead, the entire limb was reduced to a data readout and a twitching hand on the floor.

Once again, Troy cursed himself for refusing the V4 body. Its self-repair systems would have been useful right about now.

Laughter rang through the hall. The swing between the threads was as though the entire chamber had been built for her personal amusement.

“Oh, my. What an interesting little creature.” Jin’s eyes shone as Troy’s systems compensated for the missing limb. “Most mortals die to the first pattern. Many cultivators never survive the follow-up.”

A thread curled around the severed arm and lifted it from the floor. The limb swung from cable to cable until it found itself in Jin's possession. Open delight crossed the ratkin’s face as she studied the exposed machinery.

"You did not even scream." Her smile widened. "How inconsiderate."

One claw flexed the metal fingers in sequence, testing the joints like she was appraising a piece of jewelry. "This will make a wonderful trophy. Perhaps I shall replace Qian Qian's precious bear with it. My I can't wait to see the look on her face."

Troy sneered. Every word out of her was just another reminder she was just toying with him. None of this was taken seriously.

The cultivator held every advantage. Greater speed. Greater strength. More experience. A room built around her weapon. Jin could have subdued him at any point, perhaps even killed him outright, but the game to her mattered more than the victory. Worse, the more he fought back, the more it pleased her, like a spider watching a helpless fly struggle in its web.

Was this what a skilled cultivator was like? Or was he only just now scraping the surface of this insanity?

The man needed to stay calm and figure this out. Let the logical computer take over for a moment. That arrogance was the only opening he could use against her.

There was only one way to beat a game that you were forced to lose at.

Flip the board.

Power flooded the remaining processors. Time slowed around him as Troy ordered Hordak to replace the wire overlay with a tension map. Green strands hung loose. Yellow carried weight. What Troy needed was the deepest red.

His gaze followed the high-tension lines upward. Nearly every strained strand converged around the iron chain supporting the chandelier. That was the central anchor to her precious web.

The Homewrecker rose toward his opponent, eyes deadest and ready to strike. Her smile sharpened as she tossed the severed arm aside and shifted into another stance, more than ready to continue the game. Ready to take another piece from her plaything.

Troy shifted the barrel toward the base of the chandelier overhead. Position set. Weapon locked. Slugs loaded. Full auto engaged. The moment the little light on the side of the gun changed from red to green, Troy squeezed the trigger.

Ten slugs fired in rapid succession. His pose and limbs locking reduced the recoil. Some of the rounds missed. Most hit home.

Jin's smile faded. The metal links gave way, and the massive chandelier dropped.

Silk lanterns shattered against the exhibits. Flames scattered across the floor. High-tension threads shrieked as they whipped free of walls and ceiling, snapping one after another in a chain reaction that raced through the web faster than Jin could follow.

The collapsing web seized her before she could escape. Threads twisting around the robe, tail, and limbs, dragging her down with the chandelier she'd built the whole trap around. A startled yelp disappeared beneath the crash.

Wood splintered under the weight of it. Preserved beasts toppled from their displays as the center of the Trophy Hall vanished beneath shattered lanterns, broken timber, and coils of black wire.

Jin rose out of the fallen web, still alive but stripped of her trap.

"Well…" she muttered, clawing the threads off her arms, already trying to get back into the fight. "That was—"

Troy didn't let her finish, and he didn't wait for the shotgun to cycle back to buckshot. He charged, channeling every reserve into his legs. Heavy footfalls shook the floor like a freight train rolling through.

Jin tore herself free and tried to spring away, but a loose thread cinched around her tail. She slashed it loose with her claws, but it was already too late. Troy drove his shoulder into her center mass.

Impact tore her off the floor. He kept moving, pinning her small frame against his shoulder and chest, denying her the footing needed to use that impossible strength against him. Despite the surprise, she reacted fast, driving two needle blades into his shoulders. Troy shouted, not from pain but effort, and forced more power into his stride.

For the first time, panic cracked through Jin's delight. "What are you doing?!"

With the doors sealed and every exit guarded, the answer was simple. Troy needed to make a new one.

The wall rushed toward them. Jin twisted in his grip but there wasn't anything that could stop it.

They struck together.

Wooden beams burst apart in a storm of splinters, and both bodies plunged through the opening onto the rain-soaked roof below. Curved tiles caught them and sent both bodies sliding toward the upturned eave. The purpose of these roof designs was to cast falling spirits back toward Heaven.

Neither Troy nor Jin qualified.

The upturned edge launched both of them back into the air, flailing out of control. Jin hit the training yard face-first and carved an imprint through the mud. Troy came on top of her with his full weight right into her spine.

Something cracked beneath the impact.

The ratkin went rigid. Her head lifted once, eyes wide and mouth open around a breath that refused to come. Then she collapsed.

Troy rolled clear and forced himself upright. The Homewrecker barrel was settling on Jin, ready to end it all with a single blast.

She did not move. A few slow bubbles surfaced beside her mouth, and one hand twitched weakly in the air.

Alive, but finished.

Troy kept the shotgun trained on her for another second before scanning the training yard.

A hand shot from the mud and clamped around his ankle.

The shotgun snapped up and leveled at Jin’s head by mere reaction. Jin raised herself half out of the mud, one arm stretched toward him, fingers dug into the fabric of his pants leg as though it were the only thing keeping her from sinking further into a muddy grave.

“I...” Her voice came out harsh. The will to fight remained, even if the rest of her body was in tatters. Troy stood above her with the barrel fixed on her skull. Whatever strength Jin had left was not enough to argue with that.

The manic delight was gone from her face. For the first time, Troy saw genuine fear. She knew there was only one possible way to get out of this alive.

“I…” Jin swallowed. “I... concede.”

Her grip loosened, and her face dropped back into the mud. One hand remained buried in the mud, fingers curled around nothing. The shallow rise of her back and the bubbles forming beside her mouth were the only signs she still lived.

Yet Troy kept the shotgun trained on the back of her skull. This was not the first time the fate of one of this world's elite had rested in his hands. The rain slowed as the processors overclocked with thought, as if the storm itself was waiting to see what he'd choose.

The first time, Troy had not comprehended what Ying Liu was or what mercy meant in this world. He had walked away because killing someone who could no longer fight was wrong.

Or so he believed.

Li Ming and Loa Yang, the closest people Troy could call friends in this hellscape, had paid for that decision.

The next time, Troy had wanted to pull the trigger. The concept of mercy was gone and wrath consumed him. He made those who hurt him pay tenfold with ease. But in the end, his body, his mind, and his very goal of escape were nearly taken from him. And in the end, he didn't even get to finish the job and become a prisoner of his own making.

This time there was no excuse waiting to make the choice for him. Nothing stood between Jin and death except the pressure of his finger, and everything he had learned since arriving here told him he should use it.

But that wasn't the whole equation.

Unlike Liu, Jin had not touched anyone Troy cared for. She had fought him honestly, by whatever standard this world called honest. Bloodthirsty once the fighting started, sure, but so was he. She was just an enemy told to capture him, and she conceded when she knew she was beaten. That's all he knew of her.

That did not earn trust or forgiveness. But did it earn a bullet?

Perhaps this was the lesson the world had been trying to beat into him since the day he arrived. Mercy was weakness. Restraint was stupidity. The only safe enemy was a dead one.

Jin wouldn't have hesitated. Liu hadn't. Lin Yao might spare an enemy, but only after grinding them beneath her heel first. To them, killing someone helpless wasn't murder. It was prudence. It was expected in this world.

He had blood on his hands already, excuses or not. Maybe some of them had deserved it. That didn't make the weight any lighter. This world demanded more from him and Troy was not ready to hand another piece of himself for free.

As Troy stood there, something unfamiliar stirred beneath the anger.

Pity.

Pity that violence seemed to be the only language anyone here had ever learned. The strong ruled. The weak submitted. Mercy was treated as stupidity or another form of ownership. Jin, Liu, Yao, and nearly everyone Troy had met had been shaped by that certainty until cruelty and control were simply how things worked. He'd almost convinced himself that surviving this world meant becoming worse than the people trying to break him.

Maybe that was the real trap.

Not the magic, the cultivators, or the other insane things of this world. The belief that nothing could ever change. That this was simply how things were and how they would always be.

It was why Yao hunted him so relentlessly. Why cultivators mocked him. Why others watched him with suspicion. Troy was different, and his very existence challenged things they had accepted as truth for centuries.

Perhaps it was time to start taking pride in that.

His finger eased away from the trigger.

"No."

The word wasn't for himself, or for anyone else. It was for the world that kept clawing at him to become exactly what it wanted him to be, even when he was so close to going home. But if this world ever convinced Troy to kill someone because they were helpless rather than dangerous, then it had already taken more from him than an arm.

He would not bow to this world.

The sound of rain filled his audio sensors once more as the decision was set in stone. Whatever comes from it, he would deal with the consequences.

That did not mean Troy had learned nothing or that he intended to leave everything to fate again. He just needed to be smarter than putting a bullet through someone's skull and calling the problem solved. And he had just the thing.

Good old-fashioned blackmail.

During their short journey, Loa had taught Troy something valuable. Cultivators valued pride, or face as they called it, as much as breathing. Death could be honorable and failure could be used to make a more potent warrior, but humiliation was another matter. A cultivator built their name as carefully as their strength, piece by piece through rank, victory, reputation, and respect.

Strip enough of that away and, according to Loa, some would rather have died. Troy didn't entirely understand it, but fortunately, he didn't need to.

“Hordak, preserve the last five minutes of footage.”

“Archived as 'Jin Yun's Defeat.'"

A recording appeared across Troy’s vision. Jin Yun, chief spymaster of Grand Nanhu, half-submerged in the mud and conceded defeat to a one-armed mortal before collapsing face-first.

The satisfaction Troy felt was petty, unbecoming, and entirely deserved. Even if he crossed half the galaxy by morning, having some insurance could not hurt. Might even become a habit.

With that settled, Troy turned his attention back toward the escape.

Through the rain, he could make out the bare outlines of scattered training equipment. This was it. The training yard. At the far end, half-swallowed by the storm, sat the wrecked Barracuda, one wing torn away and smoke bleeding from the shattered hull.

It was just a football field away from escape. To go home and leave this nightmare behind.

But it could never be that easy, could it?
--------

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Author Notes:

One last run to the end! You can do it Troy! Maybe!
Also hope you guys liked Jin!

For those who say too, I want Troy to be a good man in a world of jackasses. Doesn't mean he's Batman, but he's not the Punisher either. He is Troy, in a way over his head and doing his best and being Troy!

Want to see what happens next, see side stories and artwork, or just want to support someone who hopes to become a professional writer?
Consider watching me on Patreon! There is plenty of free content so feel free to take a peek!

As always, I appreciate any reviews (especially advance ones), comments, and any feedback! They all help contribute to success! So please do your part and help this series grow if you want to see more!

See you around, Outsiders!

Credit to u/BlueFishcake and his original work and thanks for letting us play in his sandbox.

Thanks to Arieg and the FanBetaReaders on the Discord for doing a final read through on the beta draft.

[First] / [Previous] / [Next]

Alan had experienced hangovers. Not often, but he was familiar with the feeling. The headache, sensitivity to noise and light, dry mouth.

This was not a hangover.

This was worse.

Not only did he have a splitting headache and cottonmouth, he was also sweating like an overweight man doing jumping jacks in the Louisiana bayou in the middle of August while wearing flame-retardant coveralls.

Did somebody fuck with the environmental controls? I finally got them set where I liked them!

He sat up, and felt a heavy comforter roll down his chest.

Why am I using winter bedding when the room’s so warm? And why am I in bed fully dressed with my shoes on?

He next noticed something clasped around his wrist.

He grabbed his pad to check the time, cursing as the sudden light burned into his retinas. It was just before midnight. He also saw 24 missed calls and messages from Marci. Memory started returning as his sleep fog cleared, and he cringed.

I am such an asshole.

Alan browsed a few of Marci’s messages to see just how deep a pit he had dug for himself. It was mostly profuse apologies and pleas to come out and talk to her.

Why is she apologizing to me? I’m the one who snapped for no good reason and bit her head off! She should be pissed!

The final thing he noticed was a rather urgent biological imperative. Alan rolled out of bed and shielded his eyes as he walked out the door of his room… face first into a pair of pillowy purple tits.

“Alan! Thank Killa you're finally awake!” Marci sounded both anxious and relieved, and oddly not flustered at having a man's face practically buried in her cleavage.

Wincing as Marci’s exclamations pounded in his ears, Alan stepped back and squinted up at Marci. “Have you been waiting outside my room this entire time? That's… impressive dedication, even for you.”

Marci let out an amused huff with a relieved smile. “No, silly. The medical monitor you're wearing notified me of a change in your vitals. I came to check on you, and just happened to get here as you came out.”

Alan glanced at his wrist. “Wait, you've been monitoring my vitals? I’ve only been in there since lunchtime!”

“Alan, that was yesterday,” Marci explained slowly. “You haven’t left your room for a day and a half. After you missed breakfast and didn't respond to calls or messages all morning, the Captain ordered the medics to do a welfare check. We found you passed out on the floor. The medics said you were fine other than a mild fever, so we tucked you in bed and put the monitor on you just in case.” She chuckled. “The Captain wanted you moved to medical for observation, but Peg and I convinced her you’d react poorly if you woke up in a medical ward with no memory of how you got there.”

That explained why he was fully clothed in bed covered with a duvet. “Did you mess with the environmental controls?”

“Deeps, yes!” Marci exclaimed with a pantomimed shiver. “It was freezing in there! I was afraid you were going to get hypothermia.” 

Alan nodded in confirmation to himself as the last of his concerns about the state of his room was sorted.

Before he could speak his next thought, Marci started again, in a rather timid voice “Alan, I-”

“Hold that thought…” Alan interjected as his body reminded him of something rather urgent, and he dashed off to use the head.

Alan emerged a few minutes later to find Marci had been joined by Peg and someone whom Alan assumed was a medic based on the white uniform with blue Killa insignia.

“Well, good to see you up and about, Mr. Alan.” The older Shil woman stated with a motherly smile. “You were quite a bit less active the last time I saw you.”

“So Marci tells me. Sorry to have worried you,” Alan said with as polite a smile as he could manage with his still throbbing head.

The woman huffed in amusement. “May I see that monitor on your wrist?”

Alan presented the indicated arm for inspection. The medic held a data pad up to the wrist band for a few moments before nodding to herself. She tapped a few buttons on the device, and it unclasped itself.

“Other than some dehydration, which is not unexpected, and a mild fever you appear to be fine. I’d like you to stop by medical in the morning for a more thorough evaluation. You are probably just suffering a combination of stress and fatigue, but that fever worries me a bit. I’d like to rule out any possible medical issues before we clear you completely.”

Alan sighed, but nodded. “As the doctor orders.”

The woman smiled gently. “Good. Meanwhile, bed rest, fluids, and cut back on the caffeine. Based on the residual byproducts we found in your blood, you had enough stimulants in your system to wake a hibernating grinshaw. Combined with that natural combat stim you humans produce, you’re lucky your heart didn’t explode.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“You two,” The medic glared at Peg and Marci. “I expect you to hold him to it!”

“Aye, ma’am!”

With a curt nod to the girls and another pleasant smile to Alan, the medic took her leave.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Alan said, turning back to his companions. “Bed rest for me, and I’m sure you two could use some shuteye as well. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Alan, wait-”

“Leave it, Marci,” Peg said with a warning tone. “It can wait till morning.”

“No, I need to say this now! Alan, I-”

“I’m sorry, Marci,” Alan blurted out, cutting Marci off.

Marci cocked her head in confusion. “You’re apologizing… to me?”

“Yea,” Alan said miserably, not able to make eye contact. “Some old deeplings came back to haunt me, and I said something I should not have said. You didn’t deserve that.”

Marci was speechless for a moment. “I… summoned your deeplings…”

“It’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have known. It’s my problem to deal with. I’m sorry for making it yours.”

Peg intervened before Marci could speak again. “That’s enough for now. We can talk this out after we’ve all had a bit of rest.”

“Okay. See you girls in the morning.” Alan said as he disappeared into his room.

Peg opened her mouth to scold Marci, but stopped when she saw Marci on the verge of tears, staring blankly at Alan’s door. Instead, she just sighed and patted Marci’s shoulder. “Get some sleep,” and walked away to her own room.

Marci stood there alone, trying to hold herself together.

XXXXX

Alan walked into the medical bay with Peg trailing behind him. Marci had slept in late, and missed breakfast. At least, that's what Peg had claimed when he asked. Alan wasn't buying it, but he wasn't going to press the issue.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” the chief medic said with a smile. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in exam room 2. I’ll be in shortly.”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Alan said as he started toward the indicated room.

“Ms. Pegrid, please wait out here.”

“I'm not leaving him-” Peg started before being cut off.

“You are neither his wife nor his matriarch. You will wait here,” the doctor said in a firm tone, jutting her tusks.

“I’ll be fine, Peg. Relax,” Alan said reassuringly.

Peg eyed the medic skeptically for a moment before taking a seat with a huff.

Alan boosted himself up onto the exam table. He was seated for only a few moments before the medic came in, pushing some sort of medical apparatus.  

“Thank you for coming in, Alan. I’m just going to hook up this medical monitor to take a few additional readings.” As she wrapped a cuff around Alan’s arm, she continued making small talk. “I suppose I should properly introduce myself. I’m Phoaes, ship's doctor and chaplain.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Alan said pleasantly. “My apologies for not greeting you properly when we first met.”

“Ha! At least your sense of humor appears to be intact,” Phoaes said as she finished hooking up the instruments. She pressed a button, and the machine began making a quiet hum and rhythmic beeping sound.

“While we wait for that,” Phoaes said as she lowered herself into a seat with a grunt, "why don’t you tell me how you are feeling?”

“Other than a headache, not bad,” Alan said. “If anything, better rested than I have felt for the last week. I suppose sleeping for the better part of two days may have something to do with that.”

The doctor furrowed her brow. “Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

“Some. The standard environmental settings are uncomfortably warm and humid for me. I was having trouble getting the settings in my room right. That’s been taken care of now, so that shouldn’t be a problem, anymore.”

“Hmmm. Was it just the heat, or was there something else?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

The medic leaned forward in her seat, and her face fell into a somber expression. “Young man, I served in the Imperial navy, with more than a few human men, at that. Complaints about standard environmental settings are nothing new. That usually results in some irritability, but not a full-on emotional meltdown. I've seen that “nothing to worry about” mask enough times to recognize it. You're obviously holding something back, and you aren’t as good at hiding it as you think you are.

“That outburst of yours didn’t come from nowhere, and the stress indicators recorded by the monitor were well above the baseline in your medical file. I can also see from the limited access I have to your medical records that you were treated for a dislocated shoulder when you were 8 standard years old, and received psychological treatment for years afterward. It doesn’t take an advanced AI to work out what probably happened. So please, help me to help you. What is really going on?”

Alan opened his mouth to protest, but he could see from the look on Phoaes's face that she was having none of it. He relented with a sigh. “Nightmares. I haven’t had them for years, but they started up again about a week ago. I’m not sure why.”

Phoaes pursed her lips in thought. “Have you been feeling more stressed than usual?”

Alan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? Sure, there’s a whole lot more Shil women around than back home, but dealing with Shil with more hormones than brains isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with. It’s not much different, there’s just a whole lot more of it.”

“Hmmm. Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do about sexist cunts thinking with their clams, but maybe this will help with the stress and the nightmares.” Phoaes said as she pulled a canister from her pocket and handed it to Alan.

“What’s this?”

“A mild sedative, safe and non-addictive for humans. Won’t actually put you to sleep, but should quiet your brain enough so the nightmares won’t keep you awake. It's a low dose, just enough to take the edge off. Might even help a bit with that headache.”

“Not worried I’ll down the whole bottle and overdose?”

“Not my first rodeo kid, as you humans say,” Phoaes responded with a laugh. “You could take that whole bottle at once and it wouldn’t do more than give you the galaxy’s worst case of the munchies. Should last you the rest of the trip. If not, then you’ve got a bigger problem than either of us realize.”

“I… thanks, Doc.” Alan glanced over at the monitor, still busily beeping away. “You didn't actually need me to come in for additional scans, did you?”

Phoaes made a short, amused huff. “No, I didn’t. This machine won’t take any more detailed readings than the portable one you were wearing. It just happens to make enough noise that your hearing-advantaged friend outside can’t listen in. We were able to get a blood sample when we found you in your room thanks to medical intervention protocol. That only showed elevated cortisol and leukocytes. The former is consistent with high stress, and the latter is consistent with your mild fever. Medically speaking, there is nothing wrong with you that your body can't sort out on its own with a little rest.”

Alan nodded idly. “You needed to get me away from Peg and Marci…”

“Had to be sure they were not the cause of your condition.”

“Ha! No. Peg’s got a bit of overprotective big sister syndrome, and Marci’s just a hopeless romantic with a crush. If anything, I feel guilty for taking out my frustrations on them.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to stop by again if you continue to have trouble sleeping, need to talk to someone, or even just need a quiet place where you won't be disturbed. I’m no psychologist, but I’ve been around long enough to know how to listen.”

XXXXX

Marci sat alone in the mess, ration pack still sitting unopened on the tray in front of her.

She had begged off from joining Peg and Alan for breakfast and lunch. Peg seemed to be perfectly fine with that. That just meant less turox shit for Peg to deal with. Avoiding the crowds in the mess at mealtimes also helped avoid the judging glares Marci was getting from the crew. Not that that was anything she couldn't deal with.

Peg being angry and the crew judging her didn’t bother her. That made sense. She would probably do the same in their places.

What she couldn’t deal with was him. Alan was a battered boy, and Marci had reminded him of it. Unknowingly and unintentionally, perhaps, but she had all the same.

But he wasn't angry.

Not only was he not angry, he seemed more concerned that his reaction had upset her. It was at once both the most and least mannish thing she'd ever seen from him.

Just when I thought I had human men figured out, Marci thought to herself as she finally opened the ration and started eating. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice an imposing figure walk in, until it came to a stop across the table from her.

Marci started when Aldia cleared her throat to get her attention.

Marci’s wide eyes quickly narrowed as she recognized the woman. “Oh, it's you. Are you here to gloat?”

Aldia’s still-bruised face briefly flushed, before she took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. “No. I came to apologize. I was out of line, and said some disrespectful things about your colleague just to provoke you. It was childish. I should have deescalated.”

Marci eyed Aldia skeptically for a moment before sighing. “Well, I certainly could have handled it better. It’s not like you’re the one giving Alan nightmares.”

An awkward moment passed in silence before Aldia spoke again. “Oh, and Sig’lind asked me to give you this…” Aldia pulled a credit chip out of her breast pocket and placed it on the table before turning to leave.

“What's this?” Marci asked as she picked the chip up.

“Your share of the pot,” was all Aldia said as she disappeared through the door.

“My what?”

XXXXX

Alan breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the head. He really should not have had that second helping of… whatever that stuff was. It smelled and tasted great, but really did a number on his gastrointestinal tract. Peg had assured him that it was safe for human consumption, but she had looked a little too pleased when he went back for seconds. She didn't seem to be the sort who would play a prank on him, especially after his little ‘episode’, but she had been treating Alan more and more like a little brother as the trip went on, so he wasn't so sure anymore. Could also have been that weird feeder kink so many Rakiri women seem to have. She was constantly admonishing him to eat more, so that was definitely a possibility. Alan had met Peg’s husband at a company mixer once, and he was a chonky boy.

It had been a few days since Alan had blown up at Marci. Despite his assurances that he was not upset with her, she seemed to have convinced herself that he actually hated her and now she would barely speak to or even look at him. Peg wasn't helping, as she was giving Marci the same treatment she was giving the crew. At least Marci had backed off, and the crew was better behaved. Well, except for the Captain and Ziggy. The net result was he was feeling less stressed, and he was sleeping better. If only it hadn't cost him what remained of his dignity.

Alan turned to head back to his room when he heard voices down the hallway.

“...thanks, Issa. Ah really needed that,” Alan heard in an all-to-familiar drawl.

Shit. Is that Ziggy?

The last thing Alan needed at the moment was a run in with the perpetually horny pilot in the middle of the night while dressed in only his boxers and a tee shirt. It sounded like she had just finished a ‘morale improvement session’ with Issa, so maybe she would be less intense than usual. Preferring not to take any chances, Alan quickened his pace and prayed Ziggy's room was in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, luck was not on Alan’s side, as Ziggy rounded the corner and spotted him before he could reach his door. She froze, wide-eyed for a moment, before casually leaning against the wall with a smug grin.

“Well, hey there, hot stuff. Fancy meetin’ you here like this. Anythin’ ah could help ya with?”

Alan struggled to keep his eyes focused on Ziggy's face. She stood there topless, clad in only a pair of lavender colored bikini briefs, with her jumpsuit slung over her shoulder. One arm was crossed underneath her breasts, forming a rather effective display shelf.

Alan tried to suppress his body's involuntary response to being presented with a spectacular pair of tits, at eye level, but was having little success. They were purple tits, but they were still tits.

“Just had to hit the head. Was on my way back to my room.”

“Mmmhmm,” the pilot purred as she scanned over Alan's body and took a few slow steps closer. “Any othah needs ya could use some help relievin’? Yer lookin’ a bit stiff. Perhaps ah could give ya a hand? Help ya ta relax n get back ta sleep? Let me drain everythin’ ya've got all pent up.”

Suddenly, Alan was struck by the sheer absurdity of the situation he’d found himself in. It was like he was in a bad porno, one where they insisted on putting in plot instead of getting right to the action. How many guys back home would kill to be in this situation, with a hot, nearly naked ‘blonde’ practically begging him for sex? He couldn't help himself, and he started laughing.

To Alan's surprise, Ziggy didn't seem to be at all offended by his reaction to her attempts at seduction. In fact, her smirk had softened into a genuine smile. “Well, it's ‘bout time. Ah was beginnin’ t'think that mask o'yers was nevah gonna crack.”

Alan canted his head and raised an eyebrow as his giggle fit wound down. “Are you telling me you've been hitting on me with bad pickup lines for over two weeks just to make me laugh?”

“Bad?! Ya've been gettin' mah best material!” Ziggy said with mock indignation, then she chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong; Ah'd lick yer stick in a second if ya wanted, but ah know a “customer service” smile when ah see one. Ya’ve had one practically welded to yer face since ya got on my shuttle. Ah was hoping t'see ya smile for real ‘least once. Not quite how ah was want'n ta put that smile there, but ah'll take it.”

“Well, I suppose I owe you thanks, then,” Alan said with a laugh. “I actually do feel better.”

“Happy ta help,” Ziggy said with a grin, before leaning forward, letting the girls hang free. “Course, if ya really wanna thank me-”

“I'll keep your offer in mind,” Alan quickly interrupted, while extending his fist for a bump. “Have a good night, Ziggy.”

Ziggy put on a disappointed pout as she straightened back up, then smiled as she bumped Alan’s fist. “Same to you. Though, if ya don't mind, call me Sig’lind, or just Sig. Ah don't actually care fer being called Ziggy. That's what muh big sisters called me when ah was little.” Her expression and tone darkened as she added; “Ah don't speak to them no more.”

Alan nodded in understanding. “Right, Sig it is, then. Good night, Sig.”

“Good night, Alan,” Sig’lind said with a pleasant smile, before looking him over one last time. She flashed a smirk and winked as she sauntered past him with an exaggerated sway of her hips. “Pleasant dreams, lovahboy. Ah know mine will be.”

XXXXX

Marci sat alone in the mess, playing ‘solitaire’ with a deck of cards she had brought from Earth. She had found that playing using physical cards was more relaxing than playing on her pad, and it helped to keep her hands busy. Keeping her hands busy kept her mind from spiraling.

Alan had decided to spend the evening in his room focusing on his language studies, leaving her and Peg to entertain themselves. Peg had gone to the gym, while Marci decided to grab a snack and wallow in self-pity.

“Centi-cred for your thoughts, Miss Marci?”

Startled from her thoughts, Marci looked up to see first officer Issa looking at her expectantly, with a tray of food in hand.

“Sorry, Ms. Issa. I was lost in thought and didn't see you there.”

“So it seemed. Mind if I join you? I brought snacks!” Issa said cheerily.

“Suit yourself, but I can't say I'll be great company.”

Issa sat across the table from Marci, placing the tray between them and grabbing a bag of bagoon puffs. “Seems you've been having a rough time of late. Trouble with your human?”

Marci scoffed. “He's just fine. You’d think last week never happened.”

“And that bothers you?”

“How could it not? I saw the look on his face. He insists he's not upset with me, but how could he not be, if what I think happened to him did happen? I reminded him of that! He should be furious!”

“Do you want him to be angry with you?”

“I don't know… maybe? At least then I'd understand, and maybe this gnawing sense of guilt would feel deserved.” Marci grabbed a pippiya from the tray and took a bite. “And, now he's apparently friends with that pilot skank! I swear she's rubbing it in, too! She winks at Alan and smirks at me every time we run into her.”

Issa nearly choked on a bagoon puff. “I'm sure Sig'lind would be flattered that you think so highly of her.”

“Worst part is I can't even fault him for being attracted to her. Sure, she's trashy and is obviously only interested in him for sex, but just look at her! She's a walking interceptor pilot recruitment poster: tall, fit, perfect tits, perfect face, perfect hair, perfect tusks! She's… perfect!”

Issa canted her head. “And you think you aren’t?”

“No, I'm not. Yea, I've got bigger tits, and I could probably fold her in half, backwards. But I'm short, out of shape, my tusks are uneven, nose is crooked, face is too round…” Marci trailed off with a sigh. “This trip was supposed to be my chance to finally prove to Alan that I'm wife material. Instead, I made myself look like a turox's unwashed backside. Alan probably hates me. He's just too nice to actually say it.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Human men are supposed to be like women, right? If he hated you, he would have said or done something to make it obvious. If he's told you he's not upset, take him at his word and stop worrying about it.

“As far as Ziggy goes, I won’t deny she's gorgeous. But she's also a crass wannabe playgirl who's more likely to break a man's heart than win it.

“You are a stellar example of what Shil'vati women should strive to be: strong, well-mannered, and dutiful. You defended that man's honor, because it was the right thing to do. That's something she would never do. To her, a man is just a plaything, a toy to be used and discarded as soon as something more interesting comes along. If you ask me, Alan would be crazy to choose someone like Ziggy over you.”

Marci blushed slightly at the compliment, and allowed herself a small smile. “He’s human. Crazy kind of comes with the territory.” She chuckled softly, then looked at Issa. “Why are you being so nice to me? Most of the crew seems like they are looking for an excuse to feed me to the refuse recycler.”

Issa chuckled. “The captain's been riding the crew pretty hard since the incident. It's their own damn fault, and they damn well know it. They're just misdirecting their frustration with each other at you. Don't take it personally. I'll have a talk with them and get them to back off.”

“Please don't go to any trouble for my sake. It's annoying, but nothing I can't handle.”

“Nonsense. You are a guest on this ship, and as first officer it is my responsibility to see to your well-being. And besides,” Issa placed a hand on Marci's, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You look like you could really use a friend.”

Marci blushed again, and smiled shyly. “Thank you…”

Issa grinned. “Tell you what,” she gave Marci's hand a pat as she stood up. “I have some free time this evening. You go get freshened up, then come see me in my quarters. I'm sure a couple of blue-blooded girls like us can come up with something to take your mind off your man problem.” Issa gave Marci a wink as she picked up the empty tray and carried it to the dish return.

Marci felt something… complicated as she watched Issa stroll away, and she felt a blush start to form on her cheeks.

Did she just hit on me?

XXXXX 

Alan stepped out of his room to find his minders waiting, as usual. Marci was looking a bit more disheveled than usual, but had a goofy, sleepy grin and seemed to be in better spirits than she had been the last week. "You look like you had a good time last night…"

Marci snapped to attention and blushed. "Oh, yea… I got to talking with one of the crew last night after you turned in, and I guess we got a bit carried away. Didn't get to my room till early this morning."

"Uh huh…" Alan quirked an eyebrow, but decided to let it rest… for now. "Well, I'm starving. Who else is hungry?" 

With that, they proceeded down the hall to the mess per their usual routine, Peg leading, Alan in the middle, and Marci taking the rear of their procession. 

First officer Issa stepped out of the mess as they arrived, delivering her usual chipper "good morning", before giving Marci a cheeky wink as she walked past with a little more swagger than usual. Alan turned and gave Marci a glance, catching a faint trace of blue on her cheeks. He suppressed a giggle as they walked into the mess. 

They arrived just as first watch was departing to start their day, and before fourth watch started straggling in. They grabbed their food and sat at their usual spot in the corner, with Peg and Marci between Alan and anywhere anybody else could sit. 

"Only about a week until we arrive, Alan. How are your native speech lessons coming along?" Peg asked in a conversational tone. 

"Not bad," Alan answered in between bites of his breakfast. "I wouldn't call myself fluent, and I'll need quite a bit of practice actually speaking before I can hold a conversation, but I think I've gotten pretty good at reading sprichleit, at least. The alphabet will take a bit of getting used to, but they have letter representations for every sound and everything is spelled phonetically, so once I'm immersed in it I should adapt quickly. 

"It's actually a pretty straightforward language to learn. It is very direct and literal. For example, their word for husband is a compound word that literally translates as 'male spouse.'" 

"So wife would be 'female spouse', then?" Marci asked. 

"Actually, no. Wife is just 'spouse'. Another quirk of the language. They don’t have gendered word forms. Female is assumed unless male is specified. There's a weird gender-neutral modifier, but it isn't used much, so I've been ignoring it. They don’t even have male pronouns." 

Marci canted her head. "So… wife is 'wife', husband is 'man wife', and they are both referred to as 'she'?" she asked innocently. 

Alan blinked. "Huh. Yeah, I suppose that's right." 

"I'm going for seconds. Anything I can get either of you while I'm up?" After getting a negative response from both of them, Peg gave Marci a glare. "Behave." 

Marci feigned annoyance and responded, "yes, Mother." 

Peg huffed once and stalked off. Once she was out of earshot, Alan couldn't help himself anymore. Giving Marci a smirk, he began "So… you and Is-" 

"Breathe a single word to anyone, and I’ll make sure all the boys back home know you cried yourself to sleep because the crew was mean to you," Marci quietly deadpanned, maintaining a neutral expression despite the obvious blush on her face and inability to look Alan in the eye. 

Alan let out a snerk, as he stifled a laugh. "Not a word. I promise." He said sincerely. "It’s nice to see you in a good mood, again." 

A relieved look came over Marci's face, and she mouthed "thank you" as Peg came back and sat down. 

The three sat in companionable silence for a few moments, before Peg suddenly asked, "So, Marci, do you intend to continue sleeping with Ms. Issa, or was last night a one-time affair?"

[First] / [Previous] / [Next]

Chapter 165 - A Sheltered Cove

Andy felt the deck fall out from under his feet as The Sea Lance plunged down the far side of the swell. For one glorious, terrifying, exhilarating moment, he hung in the air weightless. Gravity did its job, and he dropped down to the deck with a loud thump. Behind him, Za’tarra lifted her voice again, belting out the lyrics of the song she’d been teaching him.

Down to dark swift seas you go,

Back to lands you once did know!

Leave the hills and deserts deep,

Leave the Vaascon Mountain steep,

Heave ho, splash, bump!

Rowin' down the hole

Heave ho, bang, bump!

Row, row, rowin' down the hole!

The old Occidens sailing song was fitting as they flew over the water near the southern coast. Great rolling dunes of sand and shrubs under their lee, while rolling waves lift them up and down.

O'er the heaving waves you go,

Taste the salt in spray and foam!

With your vessel fair and trim,

Ride the weather grey and grim!

Heave ho, splash, bump!

Rowin' down the hole

Heave ho, bang, bump!

Row, row, rowin' down the hole!

Andy heard a whistle from Za’tarra, and she paused her singing long enough to signal him that she was changing tack. Smoothly, he prepared to trim the sails and waited for her to begin.

“Ready the Spinnaker! We’ll charge the headland there into the bay beyond!”

“Aye aye!” Andy called out as he started moving to obey his skipper’s orders.

Through both peak and trough you go,

With the briney deep below,

Where Niosa plays and seethes,

Hear her voice in whisp'ring breeze!

Heave ho, splash, bump!

Rowin' down the hole

Heave ho, bang, bump!

Row, row, rowin' down the hole!

A feeling of exhilarated anticipation filled him as he waited for the order and the right moment as they began their turn.

“LET FLY!!”

Andy hauled on the line, and the wind filled the sail as they put the wind to their backs. A jolt ran through the vessel as the wind took them again, now dragging them along toward the sand covered rocks and coral outcroppings of a headland dead ahead.

Securing the lines, Andy moved back and took hold of a line as they started to list in the wind. As he rose out of the water, Andy instinctively leaned out over the water and the rail to counterbalance the list so their shallow hull could still bite. Za’tarra herself stood up and braced against the tiller, adjusting her feet until she was almost standing sideways on the gunwale, holding their course steady. Closing on the breakers, both of them were lifted up by the waves, only for the deck to drop out and leave them weightless for a moment before crashing down into the spray.

Beyond land and safety go,

Where both tide and current flow,

Through the mist that riseth white

To the waters glowing bright!

Heave ho, splash, bump!

Rowin' down the hole

Heave ho, bang, bump!

Row, row, rowin' down the hole!

Andy felt free, and the smile he wore was fit to split his face in two. He sang out the song Za’tarra taught him, harmonizing with her as they reveled in the freedom that only came when you were flying before the wind. The sun was bright and hot, and there were no clouds to be seen. The water was the sapphire blue of clean coastal waters, and there wasn’t another soul or sail in sight.

On the tossing main you go,

Boldly facing down the blow!

Follow, Drepna’s stars that leap

In the heavens cold and bleak!

Heave ho, splash, bump!

Rowin' down the hole

Heave ho, bang, bump!

Row, row, rowin' down the hole!

Za’tarra shoved her weight against the tiller as she followed the channel just outside the breakers, and Andy leaned further and further out aboard. He hung out over the water, with only his hand and his legs below the knees inside the gunwale, flying over the waves.

“You’re starting to scare me, there, Mr. Shelokset!” Za’tarra called playfully.

“Second best way to know you’re alive!” Andy called back in the same playful tone she’d used.

“Well, just don’t fall in!” she chided, “At least, not yet. We’re almost to where I’m abducting you to!”

Andy laughed and braced himself as they climbed up another wave.

Rounding the headland only took another thirty minutes, and when they had, they found themselves in the lee of it, where the waves broke on a natural seawall of coral, and the wind slackened significantly. Picking her way expertly through a shallow channel, Za’tarra steered them into a crystal clear lagoon that was almost as flat as a painting. Spilling the wind from their sails, Za’tarra luffed them and gave the order to strike their sails and drop anchor.

“What is this place?” Andy asked after they’d quickly secured The Sea Lance and took stock of their surroundings.

“We call it the Coral Coast,” Za’tarra answered, standing beside him in the stern just outside the hatch to the cabin, “There are thousands of these lagoons all along the barrier reef.”

“A pretty short barrier,” Andy commented, looking out to sea where the breakers were visible only a scant hundred yards out or so.

“That’s because of the sand,” Za’tarra chuckled as she moved closer to the stern, “The sand claims the interior and expands the Dune Sea. The coral continuously builds and expands ahead of the sand.”

“So what stops the sand from overtaking the coral?” Andy asked, leaning against the bulkhead next to the hatch, taking in all the natural beauty.

“I’ll give you three guesses, but you’ll only need one,” Za’tarra grinned cheekily.

“The Vaidas?” Andy asked flatly, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

Za’tarra nodded while looking about the water around them. “Well, not just them, but yes… Erbians in general. They maintain a balance… it’s all kinda complicated, but they help make places like this lagoon all up and down the coast. They’re great little camping and anchor spots for tourists and small commercial fishing boats.”

“So you all do the ‘camping’ thing, too, huh?” Andy asked as Za’tarra nodded and looked about one last time before standing next to the tiller.

“Sure do,” she replied before swiftly pulling off her shirt and tossing it on the bench next to her. Her white lacy bra contrasted with her purple skin, complementing her short, windblown silver hair. Andy couldn’t help the sudden shock that nearly toppled him over as he started to blush deeply. “And quite a bit more than that,” she added as she eyed him up and down.

“Uh… Za’tarra?” Andy gulped, unable to stop staring as he forced himself to stay upright and all but glued to the bulkhead.

“Yes, Beloved?” she asked huskily.

“What are you doing?” Andy only just stopped himself from drooling as he committed her form to memory.

“Going for a swim,” she stated blithely as she slid slowly out of her pants and down to her panties. She posed for a moment, with one foot up on the gunwale and the other on the deck, stretching her legs in a way that Andy knew would be an image of her he’d never forget. She held it for a moment, letting Andy get an eyeful. “Care to join me?” With that, Za’tarra dove gracefully into the water, becoming a purple torpedo, gliding smoothly through the water.

Andy rushed to the side, heart racing as his brain glitched, trying to come up with a cogent thought that wasn’t the beautifully feminine form that filled it. He watched the dappled form twist in the water before she surfaced, swimming back toward the boat. Treading water, she floated in the water with only her head and shoulders above the surface, looking for all the world like a mermaid, grinning playfully.

Andy looked around, and it was easy to believe that they were truly alone. The skies were clear, the ocean empty, and nothing but golden sand dunes, devoid of even the hint of civilization, shielded them from the inhabited world.

“Well, I don’t know… there might be some seedy sorts around. I’d hate for them to see me in a state of… undress,” Andy smirked as he slowly took his pants off down to his boxers. He was glad to see Za’tarra’s was no less thirsty than his was as her eyes grew as large as dinner plates.

Turning around, Andy pulled his jacket and shirt off, giving Za’tarra a full view of his back. Letting her stew for a moment with the view of his bare skin, Andy couldn’t resist the urge to flex and stretch suggestively before turning back to strike the Captain Morgan pose on the gunwale facing her. Turnabout was fair play, afterall, and Za’tarra turned a brilliant bright blue that emphasized the dark constellation of freckles on her nose and shoulders.

“Of course, as a Dragon, I do have to shed my skin every now and again.” Andy cooed as he stepped up on the gunwale and gauged the depth of the water around the boat.

“Dragons don’t… you know what? I’m not going to argue!” Za’tarra started as she started swimming forward, “By Niosa, you are a beautiful-”

“GERONIMO!” Andy called with an Indian yell as he leapt off the boat and tucked into a cannonball.

“Wha-?” was all Andy could hear of Za’tarra’s reaction before his world was submerged in the sound of rushing water.

Plunging into the crystal clear lagoon, Andy opened his eyes in a curtain of bubbles. Seeing purple legs appear before him, Andy reached out and grabbed them, pulling Za’tarra down. A muffled squawk sounded in the water, and Andy felt a quick crack to the face that whipped his head back as he received a relatively gentle kick in the face. Tumbling in the water, Andy followed his bubbles up as he pushed to the surface to see Za’tarra sputtering but clearly worried.

“By the goddesses, Andy! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-” She started, before Andy launched himself toward her.

Andy wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, and the both of them froze, feeling each other, skin to skin for the first time.

“I… I… uh…” Andy stuttered, having not planned for this at all. He’d half expected her to swim away, but she hadn’t. Now he had his arms full of woman, and his decision making capacity was momentarily overloaded.

Thankfully, Za’tarra was in a better position to do the rational thing. Wrapping her arms around him, Za’tarra kissed him, pressing her body into his as much as she could while free floating. They only broke apart when they started to sink.

“Andy?” Za’tarra whispered, holding him close as she kicked to maintain their position on the surface of the water.

“Za’tarra?” Andy answered, doing the same.

“Can we… continue this… on shore?” she asked, amber eyes wide with need and vulnerability.

“I’d like that,” he replied automatically, and the two of them began to swim quickly to shore, slowly navigating around the coral to reach the sand.

The moment they’d reached the sandy beach, Za’tarra all but tackled Andy to the ground, wrapping her arms and legs around him as their tongues danced a desperate waltz together. Hot sand started to sting after what felt like an eternity cut short, and the discomfort of lying in the sand without a towel was starting to cut into the intimacy of the moment. Not to mention the feeling of grittiness starting to get in places it had no business being in. Andy broke their kissing and tried to sit up, only to be stopped by Za’tarra pushing back a little as she blushed even harder than she already was. Andy couldn’t help but love how very cute she looked with her purple freckles and blue twinged skin as she clung to him.

“Uh, Andy? Where… uh, what are you doing?” she asked, relaxing a little so as to put more weight on his chest to keep him down. The effect was to press herself more tightly into him, which he would have appreciated in any other circumstance.

“Sand’s kind of hot,” Andy answered truthfully as Za’tarra lightly started pecking him with small, short kisses, “And it’s getting in my underwear.”

“Oh, right, yeah… it’s just…” She stopped and broke away just enough to look down at herself. She blushed even harder, which Andy didn’t know was possible, and she pressed herself tighter to him, “I wasn’t really thinking, and… I just realized that I should have brought towels or something.”

“Well, we can just swim back to the boat-” Andy started, trying to push up again, only to be foiled.

“We can’t!” she cried swiftly.

“What? Why?”

“Because of the other thing,” Za’tarra gulped, blushing so hard that Andy wondered if she was going to be ok, “I can’t really get up.”

“Why not?” Andy demanded.

“My… my underwear is see-through right now!” Za’tarra wailed.

Andy paused only long enough for his brain to confirm that Za’tarra had actually said what she’d said, before he struggled to push up, excited at the prospect of seeing even more of her. Za’tarra fought back in the best way possible. She clung tightly to him, wrapping her arms and legs about him to lock herself in place, squeezing herself tightly to him as she did. Thoroughly pinned, Andy lay in the sand, discomfort forgotten as he looked into her eyes. “Za’tarra, we’re alone and practically naked, making out in a deserted lagoon-”

“Practically isn’t actually!” Za’tarra cried, “And besides… I love you, and I… I want-”

“I want you, too-” Andy interjected, pushing up to kiss her.

“I want you the right way,” Za’tarra emphasized after kissing him back, “I shouldn’t be doing this, it isn’t right.”

Andy waited a beat and looked down at her, wrapped around him, mostly naked, straddling him, and he raised an eyebrow at her as he lay in the sand.

“Oh, shut up, you… you…” She sputtered, still not letting him up as she clung tightly to him.

“Human? Peasant?” he growled half playfully.

“NO!” Za’tarra shouted indignantly, “You gorgeous siren of a manic pixy dream-boy!” With that, she mashed her lips to his and proceeded to love on him again as she rolled them in the sand and back into the water.

Andy sputtered and splashed in the shallow warm water as she released him and swam a few yards away, head out of the water.

“You’re right, that sand is really hot and uncomfortable,” She admitted as she fidgeted in the water, adjusting her bra straps that were just visible above the water, “And if you try to look at me underwater, I’ll… I’ll give you such a pinch!”

“Kinky, Skipper,” Andy growled hungrily, smirking as he slowly swam toward her. He was careful to keep his head above water while she twisted and turned, slowly letting him get closer. As soon as he was close enough, she splashed him in the face and dove, giving his side a soft pinch that made him yelp as she sped away in the water faster than he could follow.

Andy attempted to swim after her, but biology favored the Shil’vati woman. Andy received a second pinch as she glided gracefully under the water to attack him again, causing him to flail in the water. Za’tarra surfaced, giggling at him just out of reach as he attempted to close the distance in vain. She went under again, and Andy waited a bit before diving down just in time, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as she thrashed about. She was a strong swimmer, but Andy was no slouch either, and he tried to make it back to the beach with his catch. The problem was, Za’tarra turned out to be the stronger swimmer, and she dragged him out to a little sandbar and beached him there, where the water gently lapped at them as they lay in between outcroppings of coral. Quick as a flash, she climbed on top of him, straddling Andy as she puffed her chest out proudly.

“I win!” she declared triumphantly, “I have caught myself a Prince-Fish!”

“You know what the Scout said to his commander when he told him he’d caught an Indian and was told to bring him back?” Andy asked deviously as he prepared to make his move.

“What?” She asked, leaning forward to look him in the eye and prevent him from getting a closer look at her body.

“I can’t, sir; he won’t let me!” Thrusting his hips up suddenly, Za’tarra squeaked in surprise as Andy threw her off and scrambled to return the favor. Pinning her on her back, Andy got himself a good look at her chest as she struggled ineffectively against him. Much to his disappointment, her bra was not see through as she’d claimed.

“You know what’s funny?” Za’tarra asked, relaxing as she batted her eyelashes at him.

“What?” Andy asked, leaning forward as she grinned suggestively at him.

“The Vaascons have the same saying about us Occidens Island pirates!”

With that, she used his own move against him, throwing Andy off as she once again pinned him against the wet sand where it was, Andy had to admit, cooler. Lowering herself and going nose to nose with him, Za’tarra spoke huskily as she ground against him. “Strike your colors, my Beloved Mr. Shelokset, Prince of the Salish Sea, for I have you now, in my power.”

Andy grinned at her mixed use of High Shil as he began gyrating and moving in time with her, “Oh, my dear Lady Geserias, sexy pirate queen of the tempestuous Western Approaches… I have not yet begun to fight!”

Thrusting his chin up, Andy licked the tip of Za’tarra’s nose suddenly, causing her to squeak in surprise and rear back. Andy gave an Indian warcry and pitched to the side, trying to pin her again. The two wrestled until they tumbled into the water again, falling off a rocky outcropping into deeper water. Andy felt something arrest his sinking into the water. A smooth shell of a massive creature that slapped his leg with some type of appendage drove all thoughts except escape out of his head. Andy flailed as he disentangled from Za’tarra and the creature below him, and scrambled back onto the sandbar. “Holy shit!!” Andy shouted as soon as he’d coughed out the seawater that had gotten in his mouth and nose.

“Andy?! What is it? Is it a sha… oh. Oh!” Za’tarra was equally concerned, but started laughing at Andy as she dove under the water and returned, pulling the thing up with her in her arms. The creature she struggled to hold up was almost as big as her, and looked like Cthulhu had a baby with a sea turtle. The creature’s face was full of gently waving tendrils while its six flippers wiggled slowly in the air. “It’s just a harmless little Coral Biter, and a baby one at that! Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this little girl?”

Andy felt embarrassed and started laughing as he got his breathing back under control. “Something I learned back on Earth, Za’tarra; there isn’t anything lower on the food chain than a Human in the water.”

“Do you want me to eat you?” Za’tarra asked playfully as she dropped the turtle thing back into the water.

“I could go for a bite, actually,” Andy answered, laughing at himself as he sat in the shallow water, looking back at the boat, “I skipped lunch and had only a little bite for breakfast.”

“I should make a joke about eating me, but you might actually try,” Za’tarra replied, staying in the water as she swam around the sandbar toward the boat. “I’ll tell you what. You’re so desperate to get a look at me? You can look at me for as long as it takes me to get to the head and into a towel!”

Za’tarra took off like a fish in the water and Andy dove in after her. Pulling water as fast as he possibly could, Andy raced for The Sea Lance, hoping and praying he could reach it alongside Za’tarra to see if she was telling the truth about how revealing her ‘swimwear’ was. Reaching the boat just as he heard the hatch open, Andy propelled himself up onto the gunwale and flopped down onto the deck, looking in the cabin just as he saw Za’tarra close the bathroom door behind her.

“Aw… son of a bitch!” Andy whined, pounding his fist into the deck as he lay spread-eagle on the warm deck in the sun, panting. Closing his eyes, Andy lay there, letting himself air dry.

After what felt like an age, Za’tarra’s voice purred by his head, “You’re going to burn. Do you mind if I give you something to protect your skin?”

Andy didn’t open his eyes, trying not to be a spoiled sport about how much better a swimmer she was than him. “Yeah, sure. What is it, sunblock or-”

Andy’s eyes shot open as warm hands with a kind of waxy lotion started caressing his ears and gently moved over his face and neck. There was a fruity, tropical fragrance he couldn’t place, but the effect of Za’tarra massaging it into his skin was a deep and intimate relaxation.

“You make the cutest little noises,” Za’tarra commented as her hands moved down to his chest and shoulders.

“What is it?” Andy murmured, enjoying the feeling of her hands as they moved over his body.

“We call it Paradise Butter. It comes from trees native to the home islands, and it’s really good for your skin. It blocks UV light, moisturizes, and protects against salt burn,” she replied, gently kissing him on top of his head as she continued to work.

“And here I thought you wanted to do things right,” Andy groaned happily, “Instead, you’re running your hands all over my… practical nakedness.”

“It’s medicinal… it doesn’t count,” Za’tarra snooted primly as she continued her ministrations, “Besides, do you want me to stop?”

“Hell no,” Andy groaned happily, letting her continue until she had him roll over.

“I really envy you,” she whispered in his ear as she worked on his back, “You bake evenly in the sun, and your skin turns this beautiful shade of brown. I just freckle up if I get too much.”

“I think your freckles are adorable,” Andy answered, pushing up on his elbows to finally look at her. She was wearing a towel, as she’d promised to, but he could still see her bra strap extending out from it over her freckled shoulders. Looking her in the eye, he smiled at her flushed and excited expression. “You’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Later, for now, let me enjoy this as much as you seem to be,” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him as her hands continued to explore his back and shoulders.

Andy enjoyed the near full body massage Za’tarra insisted on giving him, though she avoided his boxers. Letting him flip over again, she gently undid his braid and combed his hair before massaging his scalp. When she finally finished, Andy lifted his arms and looked at his skin, which was now a reddish brown hue.

“Wow, now I’m not just a Red Man, I’m a man that’s red,” Andy commented with a chuckle. The tropical fragrance of the lotion smelled nice, and it felt like he’d been given a comfortable wax coating similar to lip balm. “I really hope this is as good for human skin as it is for Shil’vati skin.”

“Now that you mention it… I didn’t think of that before!” Za’tarra sat up, clearly worried now, “It’s not an allergen, I know that, and no one’s ever been hurt from it before. Do I need to call-?”

“I feel fine,” Andy rested a hand on hers and smiled reassuringly, “But if that changes, I’ll let you know.”

“But I-” Andy pulled her down to him and kissed her, interrupting her as he played his hands over any of her exposed skin he could reach. Za’tarra quickly resituated herself, pulling off her towel, and the two cuddled together, enjoying the day and each other.

The warm sun and the gentle rocking of The Sea Lance cast a sleepy spell on both of them, and even their fervent need to kiss and caress each other was soon defeated by a sleepy intimate togetherness. Andy was happy to hold her warm body against his, and Za’tarra pulled his head under her chin, holding him close.

“I’m sorry your party got interrupted,” she murmured to him as Andy listened to her heartbeat, as he put his ear to her chest.

“That’s not what’s bothering me,” Andy replied quietly, holding her to him tightly, “It’s…”

“Tell me, Beloved,” she said when the words refused to come out.

“I’m too Human,” Andy admitted, “I want you, badly… but I still feel guilty-”

“Andy,” Za’tarra said crossly, pulling his chin up to look him in the eye, “If you don’t woo Sitry and Kalai, I’m going to do it for you and throw them both physically into your arms so that you don’t kill me with your Human-”

“And you can say that all you want,” Andy objected, “It’s not going to magically undo hundreds of years of cultural assimilation with one man, one woman.”

“Hundreds?” Za’tarra chirped in confusion, “Not thousands? I thought-”

“Salish had men take multiple wives before we became civilized,” Andy sighed exasperatedly, “A man took as many wives as he could support and build alliances with.”

“So you are Shil’vati, after all!” Za’tarra laughed, only to apologetically nuzzle him when he didn’t laugh either. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. But if it’s traditional, what’s your hang up?”

“The rules,” Andy hissed, “Namely yours. As much as I want to… I get tongue tied around Kalai and Sitry. They’re so damn formal and proper. Plus Sitry’s parents are my bosses… and it doesn’t feel like a smart thing to date the bosses’ daughter!”

“Well… that’s not an issue here, plenty of servant families marry into the nobles’ families… it’s half expected, really,” Za’tarra answered sagely, “But I do get your issues with the rules regarding relationships and being a Gentleman in The Season. They’re pretty draconian, especially the ones about intimacy, declarations, and… well, you know…”

“I do,” Andy purred as Za’tarra rubbed herself gently against him, “And while I’m still feeling rebellious, let me ask you why?”

“Why what?” Za’tarra asked playfully, rubbing herself against him.

“Why are we…” Andy pulled away with a great force of will in order to look at her, “Doing this?”

“Because I know you well enough by now to know that you’re hurting. You’re lonely, and you need something and somewhere that you don’t have to perform or be what others expect you to be.” Za’tarra cuddled close, reattaching herself to him as she started kissing his face gently, “I want you to know that The Stupidity isn’t going to last forever, and that I can be that one person in your life that you can bend or break the rules with safely.”

“What if I don’t want to be safe with you?” Andy asked, pressing himself into her, too.

“Good,” Za’tarra exclaimed happily, and she licked his nose in retaliation, smiling as Andy recoiled in surprise, “Be as carefree as you want, because I’ll keep you from doing something you’ll regret later.”

“Like-”

“Andy, I do want our wedding night to be special,” Za’tarra stated poignantly as she pressed her hips to his, “So stop tempting me, please, or you and I are going to test whether Shil and Humans are genetically compatible.”

Andy wanted to say something along the lines of threatening him with a good time, but her playful tone was also firm about that boundary. Andy relaxed and tried to back away, only for Za’tarra to hold onto him and start kissing and nuzzling him with renewed passion.

“Those are some damn confusing mixed messages, Za’tarra,” Andy commented when his mouth wasn’t busy kissing her back.

“Do you want me to stop?” Za’tarra whispered as she started sucking on the nape of his neck, her long legs entwining with his as she hugged him tightly.

“Never!”

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Kalai watched in cold fury as The Sea Lance rounded the quay, coasting at the speed he’d just spilled from his sails as they coasted in from the Vaascon Strait. The VRISM Docks were mercifully empty, with every vessel’s spars uncrossed and stowed to emphasize that fact. The only vessel missing was the one now coming back into port, and Kalai was the only one besides the seabirds waiting in an ‘Unwelcoming’ Committee as the sun was starting to descend below the line of The Bridge.

Andy stood forward of the mast, bowline in hand as Captain Geserias leaned on the tiller to bring them in. Kalai could feel her blood boiling at the Shil woman in disgrace for the image of the man on the bow.

It was clear to see they had no chaperone, and the two had obviously spent the day together. Andy was redder than usual, having been clearly given paradise butter for his skin. The question was, had Andy applied it to himself, or had that silver-haired temptress applied it to him in the ‘Islander fashion’ with both of them in a state that would see Andy utterly ruined. It also didn’t help to see that his hair, usually kept in a tight braid, was now only loosely gathered and hung in such a way that he’d clearly been swimming, given the star-like spattering of sand in it. The last insult to injury was how happy and relaxed he’d looked before he spotted her, and the obviously guilty flush on the tarr’ier chick’s face as she caught the rope and helped tie them up to the mooring.

“Kalai,” Andy spoke hesitantly, clearly seeing her anger, as the only thing stopping Kalai from launching herself violently at Za’tarra was the deeply ingrained taboo of not boarding another Skipper’s boat without permission, “It’s-”

“Did she touch you?” Kalai growled, not taking her eyes off Za’tarra, who had stood up in the stern and was watching her like a hunting reegoi.

“Yes,” Andy replied simply and clearly.

Kalai felt sudden tears well up in her eyes, and her soul felt like it had been seized by the Deep Minder to be dragged down to the sea of souls as she looked at Andy in shock.

“Seawoman He’osforos,” the disgraceful woman spoke in an assertive tone, “We need to talk right now. Will you come aboard and speak with us in my cabin?”

“Why should I?!” Kalai hissed, reeling as her sadness threatened to overwhelm her.

“Because Andy is about to break all the rules, and if you love him even half as much as he loves you… you’ll come aboard, so we can clear the air and work together to protect this idiot so he doesn’t do something terminally stupid.” Za’tarra stated matter-of-factly as she quirked an eyebrow at Andy.

Kalai was frozen in place as she tried to make sense of her emotions and the words the woman was saying to her. Only Andy holding out his hand to her broke the feedback loop of indecision.

“Kalai, please. We need to talk, because I can’t do this the Vaascon way anymore.” Andy looked back at Za’tarra, and she nodded, smiling encouragingly at him. With a deep breath, Andy turned back to Kalai and gulped. “I’m in love with you, and I want to be with you. Will you please come aboard so we can talk?”

Head spinning and feeling dizzy, Kalai reached up and took his hand, letting him pull her aboard as she nodded silently.

First:

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10/10/26 (If I can finish the chapter in time)

A special thanks to Bluefishcake for the wonderful original story and sandbox to play in.

A special thanks to my editors MarblecoatedVixen, LordHenry7898, RandomTinkerer, Klick0803, heretical_hatter, CatsInTrenchcoats, hedgehog_5051, Swimming_Good_8507, RobotStatic, J-Son, Arieg, and Rhion

And a big thanks to the authors and their stories that inspired me to tell my own in this universe. RandomTinkerer (City Slickers and Hayseeds), Punnynfunny (Denied Operations), CompassWithHat (Top Lasgun), CarCU131 (The Cook), and Rhion-618 (Just One Drop)

Hy’shq’e Ay Si’am (Thank you noble friends)

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Chapter 165: A Sheltered Cove

Za’tarra Geserias waited on the quay, feeling anxious with anticipation. Between the announcement about the Crown Princess the previous evening and the near total silence of the campus and the city, the air of uncertainty and the undercurrent of fear that accompanied it was almost palpable. The only marginal benefit was that with everyone hunkered down as they had during the Cerulean Pox outbreak, there was no one to give her side eyes or whisper snide comments behind her back.

Looking down at her omnipad, she reread the message her birthmother had sent her. Of all the silver linings that could have come from their Empress’ tragedy, her mother’s news that she’d been reactivated from the Naval Reserve was glorious. In fact, all her older sisters and cousins had been reactivated and ordered to report to their Naval Stations throughout the Empire.

Perhaps they’ll even give Mom back a ship. Maybe… just maybe one of us can do something heroic and brave enough to remind Her Majesty that House Geserias has always been faithful to Her and to the ideals the Imperium was built on.

Wishful thinking about her family status aside, there was someone weighing even more heavily on her mind than her relations. The one whom she hoped would join their ranks one day, and who was currently on his way, having ditched his Interior escort.

That was the worrying thought that followed the happier ones. Andy was Andy, and he wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Dodging or ducking a trained Agent of the Interior was supposed to be impossible, especially here on Shil. Had he actually, or was he being tailed? Could he really escape the all seeing eye and the scrutiny of the Empress’ secret police?

The word ‘scrutiny’ then latched onto her thoughts, and the happy, yet terrifying prospect of finding some way to bring Andy home to the Islands to introduce him to her family and their people was daunting. She hoped and prayed that her family, and by extension the peoples of the Occidens Islands, would accept him, being that he was himself descended from an Island people, and that he was as good a seaman as any other she knew.

Thudding footsteps on the wooden dock pulled her out of her reverie, and she saw her beloved boyfriend hurrying with a purpose toward their mooring.

“Andy?” she called as he came close enough for her not to shout.

“Hey, Skip!” Andy replied tersely, and without any ado, the man grabbed the boxes of supplies Za’tarra had taken to ensure they were well stocked, thanks to the number of guests and passengers they’d had a habit of taking out with them. Looking around for their usual gaggle of chaperones and the notorious little white ball of fluff that was their mascot, Puck, Za’tarra hesitated while Andy began quickly muscling the heavy crates aboard. Seeing none of the usual personages that always seemed to be with them these days, Za’tarra looked about and started, finding that Andy had already loaded their supplies aboard and was now forward, checking the sheets.

“Are the others…?” Za’tarra asked politely, hoping that they would be alone again for the first time in weeks.

“No, they’re too busy at my place moving in to join us,” Andy answered exasperatedly, stopping to stand up and look at her with a tense grimace, “And… you know… pretending to be in mourning while they do so.”

“Andy? Are you ok?” Za’tarra asked, hopping aboard and swinging on the lines as she navigated from the stern to the Mast Pit to get closer to him. She could see he was tense and clearly agitated. Pausing for a moment, she was worried that some of the early articles on his party the previous evening were weighing on his mind.

“I’ve been having a real fuckin’ day, Za’tarra, and it’s not even half done,” Andy said as he looked out at the water longingly, “I just want to get out on the water to the one place I feel at home, with the only person I actually want to see, right now.”

A warm, happy feeling mixed with concern for him as he looked back at her with a sad longing in his eyes. She recognized that look. It was the look of someone who needed a break from the world. It was the look of a person who desperately needed to be reminded that everything would be ok. Smiling, she threw out all her plans for the day, and an impulsive whim took hold of her, and she ran with it. “Well then, Seaman Shelokset… Iff’in ye be lookin’ to escape to the brine and foam, then best it is to stretch e’ry stitch in e’ry sail. For I’ve a notion as to a cure for the reds of a Sea Prince trapped amidst the addlepated frippery of landsmen.”

She struck a romantically piratical pose, and she grinned at the goofy, warbling smile that shattered his melancholy. Za’tarra held the pose long enough for the tension breaking laughter to take him over completely as he struggled to stay sad against her bombastic use of archaic Vaascon speech.

“If that’s you telling me that you’re kidnapping me and taking me out to sea… I don’t think I’d actually try and stop you,” Andy wheezed out as he tried to advance to wrap her in his arms.

“Well then, Mr. Shelokset, consider yourself the guest of this Occidental Captain,” Za’tarra replied teasingly as she stepped tantalizingly out of his reach to take up the sternline that moored them in place. “Not yet, my Beloved,” she whispered, “Wait a bit, and then we can just… be.”

He grinned happily and nodded, instinctively taking hold of the bow line so they could cast off. As he did so, Za’tarra looked at the Navi’s Perch and took stock of the wind and tide. Both were perfect for the plan that was blossoming in her mind.

Yes, Beloved. You’ve had a nightmarish evening and morning… but the rest of your day will be one of freedom and comfort. Just you wait! I have somewhere special to take you!

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It was a strange sensation to see Andy’s palace in the daytime, and even more surreal to see so many different servants wearing the liveries of so many noble families mixed with the gold of mourning. It reminded Kalai too strongly of those days in the immediate aftermath of the attack on Tlax’colan.

Walking through the front door, Kalai saw Andy’s Seneschal directing the chaperones and the valets of the myriad boys who were currently moving into the house.

“Ah, Lady He’osforos, Donna Vaida. Welcome,” the Im’Azhigh woman politely inclined her head to both of them as they moved out of the way of a pair of movers carrying in a mattress, “Please forgive the state we’re currently in. I presume that you are here to help Don Vaida move in?”

“Yes,” Sitry replied quickly, “Aunt Yz’abeu sent us to make sure he had everything he needed.”

The woman nodded with a knowing smile. “I believe Don Vaida is in the guest lodging for the moment. I do believe he would like the company.” 

Thanking her, Kalai and Sitry showed themselves in, following the woman’s directions to the Guest Grotto entrance and the passage that led to the underwater retreat. The wide corridor had yet to be decorated, but there were many alcoves where works of art or statuary were clearly meant to go along the brightly lit passage to the so-called guest suite. Sleek modern doors stood closed behind a rather muscular looking Erbian woman in a Cambrian tartan that she quickly recognized as one of the Vaida family retainers. Specialist Gilly was a proud Hare, and a former Sapper in the Cambrian Corp of Engineers.

“He asked te be alone, but he’s in a righ’ state cuz’in. He be all kinds o’ weepy an’ won’t say why.”

Kalai looked over at Sitry and cocked her head to the side, asking her best friend the silent question. All Sitry gave in response was a silent shrug of cluelessness. “Thanks, Gilly,” Kalai offered as the big woman moved out of the way to allow them entry.

They found Narny in the living room of the guest quarters, slumped on the couch with his back to them. He didn’t even notice his sisters at first, staring as he was at the reef garden, which had an excellent view of a juvenile helix shark exploring the coral outcroppings and swimming tunnel entrances with its tentacles, while the reef fish hid from the six foot long predator.

“What the… GILLY! YOU WEREN’T- Oh! It’s only you two,” Narny started when he finally heard them. His voice, at first angry, fell into a morose tone Kalai recognized as his ‘I’m miserable and piteous’.

Kalai gave Sitry a quizzical look as they both walked around to bookend their brother, ready to comfort him.

“Narny? What’s going on?” Sitry asked.

“I… I had a fight with Andy,” Narny answered, pulling his long lop ears over his face to hide as he curled into a fetal ball.

“You what?!” Sitry cried, stiffening as she recoiled away from her kho-twin in shock, “What happened!?”

Peeking out from behind his ears, Kalai saw actual tears of shame streaming down his face as it took him a moment to get it together enough to answer. “I’m so ashamed! I said such awful things, and he was only trying to… to understand! He was just trying to be… my… friend!!”

“What did you say?” Kalai demanded, terror gripping her heart as she waffled about with putting a steadying hand on Narny’s shoulder or not, “What happened?!”

“I…” Narny hiccuped, shaking his head as he hid his face again, “I called him names, and I… I disparaged his dead family and… even mocked him for the fact that he’s… not a noble.”

“You WHAT?!” Sitry and Kalai shouted in tandem, each of them launching off the couch in horror at what Narny had just said.

“I insulted him in his own house and then he… he could have shamed me in front of Lord Zu’layman and the other Gentlemen! He could have thrown me out of his house and society and he… he…”

Narny’s self pitying sobs cut off his explanation of events that, if true, would spell the end of any consideration either of them would have from Andrei.

“He what! What did he do!?” Sitry demanded, as Kalai stepped forward to intercept her from grabbing Narny by the shoulders and shaking him. Long experience getting between the two of them won out over Kalai’s own desire to fruitlessly try and shake an answer from Narny when he was in the state he was in.

“He covered it up! He pretended like it didn’t even happen!” Narny wailed helpfully, “When Baron Tanai’os asked if we were going to still be roommates, Andy could have said no and snubbed me! Only he didn’t! He made it seem as if we were still best friends and… and…”

Narny again descended into wracking hiccoughing sobs, and the girls looked at each other in abject horror.

“Sitry?” Kalai squeaked, seeing not only her future with Andy going up in smoke, but her whole future in general. If Narny had made Andy an enemy of the Vaidas, then Andy would have no reason to keep either her own or her father’s secrets.

“It’s the fourth time he’s been my friend… when anyone else would have been repulsed! I’m a terrible person!!” Narny continued, drowning out any potential answer Sitry would have made, still lost in his own self pity as Sitry came to a similar conclusion about her own fate.

“Narny… you… you have to make this up to him!” Kalai answered creakily, while Sitry tried her best to get past Kalai and take hold of her brother.

“How?!” he whined loudly as Sitry broke free of Kalai and loomed over her brother, hands twitching in time with her foot and tail as she puffed her cheeks angrily at him.

“I don’t know!” Kalai shouted back, no longer willing to defend him as the enormity of his actions began to sink in, “You have to do something fucking big! Something that… that… I don’t know… Sitry?!”

Sitry was silent, stunned for words as she stood frozen, save for the foot tapping and tail twitching as she clearly debated how she wanted to kill Naranjo.

“Maybe… maybe we can talk to him?” Sitry finally squeaked out, barely containing her rage, “Smooth things over? He’s really forgiving, right? He’s up in his rooms, right?”

“No,” Narny shook his head, “He went into class.”

“But… there aren’t any classes today,” Kalai squawked, looking over at Sitry in panic, “Everything’s closed because of the Princess!”

A knock on the door caused all three of them to jump, only for them all to relax to see Cousin Se’fanikos enter. Kalai’s relief was short lived as the tall Interior Agent stood before him with a grim look on her face.

“Girls, Naranjo… have any of you heard from Andy? I lost track of him after Feudalism Class. He was supposed to come with me today, but I can’t find him anywhere, and his omnipad’s off.”

The three of them looked at each other, and Kalai and Sitry squeezed their eyes shut and bowed their heads as they spoke in tandem. “Not again!”

Kalai looked up and saw cousin Se’fanikos jut her tusks at the bay window as she crossed her arms. Outside the bay window, the helix shark was now nosing around the window, looking at them as its tendrils probed the window gently.

“I swear to Hele, that boy…!” Se’fanikos almost cursed under her breath as she pulled out her omnipad to try calling Andy again as she stalked away from the three of them. “You know, looking at him, you wouldn’t think he’s as slippery as he is!”

“Well, where would he possibly go?” Sitry whispered, clearly nervous as they spoke quietly so Cousin Se’fanikos couldn’t hear.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find him before someone else does!” Kalai snarled under her breath as Se’fanikos stormed out.

“I… I think I might know,” Narny volunteered timidly, “He might be out sailing.”

“Wait, that’s right!” Kalai felt a jolt of electricity run through her as she looked at Sitry, “The Gehennian Classic is still on, even during the mourning period!”

“Sports exemption,” Sitry and Narny confirmed in tandem as they looked at each other.

“What vessel is he on again?” Kalai asked, pulling out her omnipad to order a drone cab to take her back to the VRISM campus, trying to remember who he signed with.

“The Sea Lance, with Lord Zu’layman as his Navi and…” Narny started before stopping to hesitate in his answer, “Captain Za’tarra Geserias.”

“That traitor’s granddaughter?!” Kalai hissed in disgust. “Tell me he’s got a chaperone!”

Narny shook his head, “I don’t think so… unless Cadet Commander Al’etusha is with him, all of the girls we know who’d be able to chaperone him are either here or up at the Blue Marble Palace for the mourning rituals.”

Angry beyond belief, Kalai turned on her heel and made for the door. Stopping before she opened it, she turned back to their Erbian siblings. “Sitry, you stay here with Narny and put up a good show about moving him in. I’m going down to the docks. Narny, you find the rest of his Gentlemen and his lord, and you do anything you need to do to keep anyone from asking questions about Andy or his whereabouts until I bring him back home. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” both of them squeaked fearfully at Kalai, now in enraged Skipper mode.

Turning her commanding gaze on Sitry, Kalai addressed her imperiously, declaring what was going to happen so as to speak it into truth. “I’m going to get him… and I’m going to bring him back… and if I have to call in a favor to hide a body-”

“The family will have your back,” Sitry replied, finding her courage as her tone took on an iron undercurrent, “If she’s trying to steal our boy from us, you do what you have to do to make sure no one can question his honor or integrity!”

Kalai turned on her heel and stormed out quickly, all but flying down the passageway toward the manor’s landing pad. She even passed Cousin Se’fanikos as she rushed out, propriety utterly discarded as she wrestled with her thoughts.

If she hurts him… if she lays so much as a fucking FINGERTIP on MY MAN I’ll fucking KILL HER!

On the one hand, it was Andy, and he was as strong as a Korova. On the other hand, Captain Geserias was an Occidens Islander, and they were known for being extraordinarily tough.

Please don’t let him be hurt! Please! Thoira, Niosa, Shamatl, Shil! Hear my prayer, and protect him! He’s had so much sadness, please just keep him safe and happy!

First:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Sexyspacebabes/comments/yz0u3h/the_cryptid_chronicle_chapter_1/

Previous:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Sexyspacebabes/comments/1wqpivg/cryptid_chronicle_chapter_164_part_2/

Next:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Sexyspacebabes/comments/1wwmurx/cryptid_chronicle_chapter_165_part_2/