There's a whole genre of sci-fi that has a major premise as "humanity is the most powerful/dominating/victorious species in the cosmos...and that's not a compliment". I always understood that to be a facet of HFY, but per this sub's description HFY should be "uplifting".

Like, a story where aliens try to invade Earth and we kick their asses is definitely HFY. But what if we then enslave the survivors of the alien horde? What if we reverse engineer their tech, go to their homeworld, and nuke their planet? What if we tailor a virus to their genome and purge the galaxy of their entire species, and their little alien babies die screaming in their little alien cribs?

Is that HFY?

Not mine, but by several people on tumblr (Archive.org link in case the tumblr link pushes a sign in)

Undocumented Buttons

"Globtroq, what are these buttons for?" asked the spindly Ognimalf named Bert, holding the pilot chair upside-down to his obese Adnap buddy, Globtroq. The unlikely duo owned a run-down repair shop for small spacecraft in the remote corners of the galaxy. Their business was far from glamorous; in fact, they spent most of their days fiddling with spaceships that had been acquired in rather dubious ways.

Globtroq looked at the buttons: two green, two pink, one grayish. They were cleverly concealed beneath the obviously human pilot chair.

“Dunno…” Globtroq mumbled, reaching towards the buttons.

"Hell no, don't touch them!" Bert shrieked, pulling the chair away. "Last time you pressed an undocumented button in a human spaceship, you emptied the entire septic tank into our garage!"

“Uhm, sorry, instinct…” grunted the portly Globtroq “Never seen such buttons. Don’t know.”

Bert held the chair overhead, turned it around, then put it under the examination lamp and used the sonic scanner on it, looking for clues.

"This doesn't make sense," he snorted in annoyance. "No labels, no cables. What are these buttons for?"

The stubby Globtroq climbed on top of table and peered at the pilot chair. “Dunno… but they hid them well. Must be something very special. You know how humans are. Always doing something incredible stupid in a brilliant way or something brilliant in an incredible stupid way.”

Meanwhile Bert flipped through the printed manual, gasping in frustration. "Crap! This manual is printed in 24 different human languages, and I can't read a single one of them. Globtroq, get me a dictionary."

…ten hours later...

"...and this button controls the windshield wiper speed," Bert finished, tossing the manual annoyed into a corner.

Globtroq, scratching his fluffy behind, asked cluelessly, "Uh, Bert, I dozed off, did they mention anything about those buttons?"

“NOTHING!” squeaked Bert “They fucking wrote NOTHING about buttons under the pilots chair!”

"That's odd," Globtroq shrugged.

“That’s not odd, that’s steaming Nacluv Shit!” a pretty pissed Bert snorted. Then he declared, holding the thick manual in his hand, "I'm going to translate the entire manual until I find out what these buttons are for!"

"That's only the Quick-start Manual," Globtroq dryly stated, lifting a massive box filled with thousands of pages onto the table.

The spindly Ognimalf suddenly grasped the enormity of the task before him, and the vibrant pink in his feathers faded away...

…six days later…

Bert's feathers had turned almost grayish as he studied the endless stack of manuals in front of him. His annoyed brooding was interrupted when Globtroq startled him by entering without knocking. As usual.

"Globtroq, what the... who is that alien?" Bert asked, pointing at a newcomer.

The fatty pointed back at his companion and replied dryly, “I found a human. It is a human pilot chair. A human should know about the buttons. Human, that spindly dude is Bert. Bert is not his real name but I am unable to pronounce his real name. Bert, that is human.”

The human let out an amused chuckle and nodded at the spindly Ognimalf. "Hey there, I'm Max. Well, that's not my full name either, but Globtroq can't wrap his tongue around..."

Max couldn't finish his sentence as Bert interrupted him, exclaiming, "Oh, by the feather gods! A human! I was going bonkers! Look, we've got this pilot chair from a human spaceship, and it has buttons that are nowhere to be found in any documentation. We've been at it for nearly a week, and…"

"Hold on, buddy. I'm just a tourist; I know zilch about piloting a spaceship..." Max explained. However, seeing the color drain from Bert's feathers, he felt a pang of sympathy for the alien avian. "...but hey, I'll take a look and see what I can see, alright?"

Globtroq happily led Max to the chair and showed him the buttons, while Bert looked at the ceiling and wallowed in despair.

“Uhm, I have an assumption” Max stated “can I visit the cockpit for a moment?”

A sulking Bert and an overjoyed Globtroq led him into the small cockpit, where Max promptly opened the glove compartment, retrieved something, asking, “You wouldn’t mind if I take one of these human snacks?”

Bert just continued sulking while Globtroq happily took one of the small snacks offered by Max.

"Tasty," Globtroq remarked.

Max nodded in agreement and returned to the pilot chair “Cherry flavor. A bit past its prime, but still good.”

Bert reluctantly followed, trying to sulk as hard as possible.

And then, to everyone's surprise, Max spat out his snack and pressed it alongside the other buttons under the pilot's chair. It stuck.

“Gentlebeings.” Max announced dramatically, "the individual who sold you this heap of junk was a downright repulsive being. These buttons? They're dried-up globs of chewing gum."

--- The End ---

Not by me, originally on tumblr by multiple people (and an archive.org link to the post in case tumblr pushes a signup). Transcription originally done by u/ElliePlays1 on Reddit, cleaned up a bit by me.

Image Transcription: Tumblr \[1/2\]

manyblinkinglights

id wreak mayhem for a really good scifi where sight was considered as exotic and numinous as telepathy by the protag species

roachpatrol

\#everybody else uses sonar or long whiskers and that thing with the sensing electrical impuses#meanwhile: humans can 'see' which is a thing which is like and yet unlike ordinary perception#it would also only ever come into play in the same frivolous 'VULCAN STRENGTH' sort of way as Spock's extra attributes#for maximum effort vision would be faithfully written as 100% an asspull in the best way

what the fuck dude this is awesome i want this too now

curlicuecal

Okay, but what about those deep sea fish that produce light at a wavelength that \only they can see.\ Predators that can somehow sense toy in a completely indectable and unfathomable manner to you; they might as well be psychic.

manyblinkinglights

YES, EXACTLY-vision is SUCH an asspull?? Sometimes it's ""dark"" and we can't see anything.And also we're impired for plot reasons! Sometimes ALIEN WEAPONRY or otherwise-innocuous ship components are ""too bright"" and yet we yell and try to hide, subject to some sort of obscure, tortuous imperative. The rest of the time we can UNERRINGLY tell when anyone is trying to play pranks on us, the names and emotional/physical status of EVERY SINGLE BEING IN THE ROOM (or, when outside civilized warrens, ""line of sight"")- and yes, of course, can't forget about our nigh-mythical fighting arts revolving around insane dodging skills.

And SNIPING. And also, god, fuck-don't forget about completely arbitrary """"atmospheric disturbances""" (fog, smoke-the new "ionic interference") ALSO plottasactically rendering our abilities moot.

glimmerbulb

Plus, some people have some powerful Vision than others, but some people have a very short effective range of Vision. However, humans have come up with devices that "change the angles of refraction" of the "light" so that the naturally impaired have their skills enhanced-but they can always be knocked off their faces or be broken.

Also some people are terrible at normal Vision work, but have excellent night vision and are skilled at working under adverse conditions.

Oooh, and human art is almost entirely Vision based. Think about non-seeing aliens trying to access the majority of human art!

manyblinkinglights

IM!!! SCREAMING!!!! GLASSES. Glasses are SUCH another great Weird Alien Gimmick. God-you get all used to your Human friend and their bizarre abilities, you just start to really trust in and rely on them in tight places and problem-solving a little bit, then you get fucken marooned on a fucken planetoid somewhere and they just in this very small little voice, after you have pulled them from the wreckage and sat down to go over your options, inform you that they've lost their glasses.

roachpatrol

Oh my god and an episode where we’re up against Evil Humans and our heros turn to their humans like ‘you can see them, right, you can tell when they’re near? you can counter them?’ and our hero is genuinely shaken and worried— they’ve got high-tech military mechanical enhancers, the devices strapped to their heads let them see anywhere, they can operate in near-absolute ‘darkness’, they can operate in near-lethal ‘brightness’, they can see through walls— not doors, not glass, but walls.

Then we have a heroic scene where the crew’s human is the scrappy, desperate underdog for once instead of the cool and collected superbeing. It is super cool. The human and the captain probably mack wildly on one another in medbay after this. Roll credits.

gutterowl

Person 1: I dunno, dude. This ‘light’ stuff sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me. I mean, how do we know it’s even real?

Person 2: Seriously, how can something be a wave and a particle? That doesn’t even make sense.

Mysterious Human: Even if you cannot perceive the light, you can feel its warmth–

Person 1: Oh my god, please shut it with the mystical hoo-hah. You’re insufferable.

roachpatrol

Mysterious, somewhat exasperated Human: the ‘light’ enters the sensitive paired apertures in our faces, passing through biological lenses and chambers to stimulate specific nerves we call ‘rods’ and ‘cones’. one set of nerves tells us the volume of light we’re perceiving, while the other estimates the wavelength frequency. the total input creates in our mind a continuous sonarscape of immense complexity, where we can perceive ‘textures’ that are impossible to understand with mere sound or touch. this is why my people’s communication devices are small, flat, silent boards: we ‘read’ the patterns of light they emit as language and ‘watch’ the patterns of light they emit as sonarscapes.

Captain: okay…. sounds fake, but okay…

gutterowl

And they just keep on making up new bullshit rules for how light works, like

Navigator: Warp drive engaged. We are approaching 90% of the Lorentz limit.

Human: What now?

Navigator: Oh, uh, it’s really complex, but lemme try. So, matter can only move so fast through space, right? Like absolutely, nothing can ever ever possibly go faster than like about 3 hundred million meters per second–

Human: Ah yes. The speed of light.

Navigator: …oh for fuck’s sake.

roachpatrol

Captain: My god! Time! Has… frozen!

Human: Fuuuuuuuuck.

Captain: What?

Human: Remember how light is a wave and a particle?

Captain: Yes, we mention this every episode.

Human: Yeah, light’s frozen along with everything else. I can’t see shit.

Captain: My god! Our sonar doesn’t work either! The soundwaves— they can’t propagate through this frozen air! We’ll have to use just our whiskers!

Human: Fuuuuuuuuck.

gutterowl

The fanfiction for this show has to be amazing.

“Shh. Don’t try to hide your needs, Captain,” Hue Mann soothed. “My sight has told me all about your traumatic memories of the war.”

“What?” Captain gasped. “But…how…?”

“The light knows all,” explained Hue. “Time slows down at the speed of light. It sees all of the past..and all of the future.”

“And what is it telling you now?” questioned the Captain.

Hue leaned in close. “It tells me, ‘Mate with them now, you lovestruck fool!”

“Damn you, Hue Mann. Damn you and your penetrating ‘eyes.’”

“Oh,” breathed Hue, voice husky and sexual. “That’s not all my eyes can…penetrate.”

em-kellesvig

goddamn, you people amaze me.

kowabungadoodles

I love the idea that the protag species has telepathy as ‘boring normal standard’ senses and they can’t understand why human thoughts seems so strange, fragmented, occasionally blank… until they realise that a great of human thought is ‘visual’ and so can’t be heard…

annlarimer

“Lori, what do your Human eyes see?”

“Coupla billboards, and it looks like it might rain.”

jacquez45

This keeps getting better

vassraptor

This is so cute. Your human crewmember is getting a crush on another human. Time to observe the humans’ weird yet endearing courtship rituals.

“Tell me all about them! What do you like about them?”

“Well, they have these amazing eyes…”

“Yeah? Better at the the wavemapping thing than yours?”

“…I don’t know how good their eyes are at seeing. They’re just this beautiful shade of brown.”

“Wait. You wavemap each other’s wavemapping organs? And have opinions about what nice frequencies they refract the waves at?”

“Yes? What’s so strange about this?”

“I thought your ‘vision’ was passive. Do you listen to each other’s ears too? And like the smell of each other’s noses?”

“Like you’ve never touched someone’s whiskers with your whiskers.”

“…That’s different.”

actuallyasisterofbattle

Hang on though, how do you explain photovoltaics if they don’t know what photons are?

tharook

That’s a point; any space-faring aliens would (reasonably) have to have a good knowledge of electromagnetism and electromagnetic radiation. (And, potentially wave-particle duality and other quantum physics.) They might even have their own ways of detecting and measuring it (photodiodes, CCDs, radio telescopes, whatever) despite not being able to perceive it themselves just as we developed ways to measure things we can’t detect (like ultrasonics, heat (infrared), radio wavelengths etc.).

So our vision might not necessarily be so mystical as telepathy to us, but more like how some species of fish are sensitive to EM fields as well as sonar mentioned above. But our eyes and brain can do a lot of processing, still, and have an advantage over other ways creatures might perceive their environment. Pertinently to space travel, sight works in a vacuum and (theoretically) infinite distance. Instead of a sophisticated EM sensor array, fleets could simply install a human and a window.

darael

There’s potentially quite an interesting plot there where our nonhuman protagonists are entirely familiar with electromagnetism in the abstract, in the same way that humans are familiar with magnetism despite not having (much) direct sensitivity to it, but it takes them a while to work out that it’s how we do that weird “seeing” thing we keep talking about,and even longer to get the hang of what frequency range we use to do it.

And they might still be baffled by optic lenses.

n1ghtcrwler

But think about the discovery of humans.

You have this space-faring race kicking around, doing their thing, discovering new worlds and civilizations. They have all this advanced technology to hide themselves from all known senses so they can enter into the lower atmosphere of a planet and observe for a bit, cloaked from being noticed until they’ve decided whether or not the new race is ready to be introduced to galactic society.

And they show up at this blue world way out on the edges of civilized space, and detect life, and drop into the atmosphere fully cloaked and ready to research, and suddenly a scientist sends out a distress message to the rest if the crew:

Millions of Earthlings have immediately begun observing \them\.

roach-works

i still love this thread and i want to further suggest: what if all those UFOs everyone’s been seeing all this time are just merrily zipping around under the assumption that we can’t fucking perceive them at all, because their saucer-shaped cloaking field hides them from just about every kind of sonar or radar or emp device.

and sure, maybe if some of us humans had a really, really complicated photon measuring machine and pointed it at just the right spot, we might be able to get a reading that light is behaving a little bit strangely, very briefly, in one tiny part of the sky (where most light comes from!) but those things are the size of a suitcase, so obviously we don’t have them.

except also those things are the size of grapes and we have two of them built into our skulls.

(This is my first attempt at writing HFY, I hope you guys enjoy it)

The k'tarr representative raised their voice over the hum of chattering dignitaries "Attention every, may I have your attention please! I understand we are all concerned but if we are to find a solution we must have order." As the chattering of dignitaries subsided they continued "As you all know we are gathered here today to discuss the ongoing attack by hostile species fourteen..." "What do we even know about species fourteen?" "Would the tyrl representative please allow me to finish before speaking. It is indeed true that we know almost nothing of species fourteen itself, other than that which we have been able to discern from the construction of the catalyst weapons used against our worlds." Catalyst weapons; the words sent a murmur through the arrayed representatives while the photocommunicators flashed with alarmed reds and sorrowful blues. Seated at the head of the assembly, the races of the afflicted worlds reacted with mixed stowicism, anger, and deep saddness. Struggling to maintain composure the k'tarr representative continued "I will now scede the floor to the honorable prince sheltaf of the mycorian republic who may be able to grant us further insight on the nature of species fourteen."

Hobbling and assisted by a ceremonial bodyguard, sheltaf radix, third prince of the mycorian republic, ascended to the podium soft lines of pained yellow flashing along his side with each step. "I'm sure none of you here today know me, as a mere third prince my role in political affairs was minor. I do believe however that all of you knew my older sister the honorable diplomat rhelsha; it is my deepest regret to bring you news of her death, as well as that of the second and fourth princes, and my parents." Solemnity at once took the crowd as the last whispers and feint flashes died away. "As the eldest surviving member of the radix family it is my responsibility to take on her role as representative to the council, and to tell you how she died."

"As many of you know our capital world was the first hit by the catalyst, though the exact events are murky and reconstruction is ongoing I believe we are now able to provide the council with an aproximate series of events." Behind him the council chambers screen lit up to display a diagram of a long elipsoid object reminiscent of a torpedo. "On the date of approximately 14/09/2358 [translated for readability] standard galactic time this object is believed to have been picked up by sensors entering the secure space around the capital world shala. At the time the object was dismissed as debris and recieved no further attention beyond the standard logging of such objects."

The screen changed to display a real image of the same object, this time inside a biohazard containment chamber and bearing dents and scorching from re-entry. "It was not until the object subtly shifted orbit at the last minute and entered into a re-entry trajectory that the alarm was rasied, unfortunately for all of us it was already too late. Immediately preceeding and for some time post impact the object began dispersing a cocktail of various previously unknown micro-organisms, fungal spores, and seeds; the first response team on site had their respiratory systems completely overwhelmed within minutes." The screen changed once more, revealing an image of shala from low orbit, Even from orbit a pale green scar could be seen originating from the impact point, overtaking the pastel blue of the worlds native flora. "Before we knew what was heppening the foreign organism began overtaking our natural environment at an alarming rate, our forrests were broken down into slurry by alien bacteria, the air became choked with deadly spores and the most unfortunate were directly parisatized and consumed by aggressive flora; my sister..."

As the last prince of shala lapsed into silence representative k'tarr resumed the podium and glanced at the head of the assembly. "I'm sure many of you have similar stories to share, at present twenty one worlds have been overrun by the catalyst bioweapon and trillions have died." There was a commotion among the assembled delegates as the lanian representative broke down and had to be removed from the assembly. "Thanks to the bravery and sacrifice of mycorian scientists, and many others from all over the union we do now have at least some information about species fourteen. Reverse engineering of the catalyst weapons themselves suggests their spaceflight is surprisingly crude as each one utilizes only the most basic and inneficient of blink drives, analysis of the alloys used suggests they were manufactured under a lower gravity than is standard for habitable worlds. Finally sequenceing of the genomes of some of the bioweapon strains shows they share a common base, though we cannot expect species fourteens natural ecology to be remotely similar to that of their bioweapons our scientists believe we can still uncover valuble information about their metabolisms and the likely atmospheric composition of their homeworld."

The council chamber erupted in speculation as delegates considered the potential implications of such information and argued about how it should be used. As the chatter grew into a roar the delegate k'tarr once again had to raise their voice. "I'm sure you all have questions, even demands; before then I have one simple proposition. Scientsits from the mycorian republic working with the countil believe they have pinpointed the aproximate location of species fourteens homeworld. My government proposes a resolution to launch a covert expedition to this world in order to gather more information about our enemy in advance of a counterattack. If there are no objections to this proposal would the esteemed representatives please now cast their votes.

Originally made by swanjolras on tumblr, however that tumblr deactivated or renamed itself. Currently-working tumblr link (it's a reblog) and a Reddit screenshot

---

gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining

because we as a species were so lonely and we wanted friends so bad, we wanted to meet other species and we wanted to talk to them and we wanted to learn from them and to stop being the only people in the universe

and we started realizing that things were maybe not going so good for us— we got scared that we were going to blow each other up, we got scared that we were going to break our planet permanently, we got scared that in a hundred years we were all going to be dead and gone and even if there were other people out there, we’d never get to meet them

and then

we built robots?

and we gave them names and we gave them brains made out of silicon and we pretended they were people and we told them hey you wanna go exploring, and of course they did, because we had made them in our own image

and maybe in a hundred years we won’t be around any more, maybe yeah the planet will be a mess and we’ll all be dead, and if other people come from the stars we won’t be around to meet them and say hi! how are you! we’re people, too! you’re not alone any more!, maybe we’ll be gone

but we built robots, who have beat-up hulls and metal brains, and who have names; and if the other people come and say, who were these people? what were they like?

the robots can say, when they made us, they called us discovery; they called us curiosity; they called us explorer; they called us spirit. they must have thought that was important.

and they told us to tell you hello.

Originally written by injuries-in-dust on tumblr (non-tumblr link in case tumblr pushes you to make an account), not by me.

---

“Boredom is a dangerous thing to a human.”

“I don’t understand,” Chuul’s mandibles clicked nervously, “why not simply take the tool from the human.”

Minxx’s antennae stood straight up, a sign of shock, fear, or surprise, “You don’t simply take something from a human. If you do they will either turn the ship upside down trying to find it again, or they will replace it with something else that will lead to more destruction.

“I speak quite literally by the way. Human-Mark used to have a tool he called an “Hex Key” he used it to remove the doors to the clothing storage areas in his quarters because he was bored. When he lost it he literally turned the ship upside down by reversing the gravity.”

Chuul’s tentacles curled up defensively, “Gravity controls are locked, how-”

“No one knows how.” Minxx shook her small wings as the memory of suddenly falling upwards returned to her. “but his reasoning was that the tool would fall out of whatever hiding place it had come to rest within. He had not considered that all tables, chairs, equipment, and personnel, would also fall. It took weeks to clean.”

To be fair to the human, Mark had only intended to reverse the gravity in his own quarters but had, quote, “pushed the wrong button.” A sentence which would send fear through any intelligent creature in the known galaxy. To be completely unfair to the human, there were still stains on the ceiling in almost every room of the ship from dropped food, chemicals, various other liquids, and even a couple of empty bowels. Some races just didn’t find the idea of resting comfortably in their sleeping quarters, only to be suddenly awakened as they fell ten feet toward a ceiling which had now become a floor. Mark was no longer allowed near environmental controls.

Minxx continued, “He did not find this “Hex Key.” However, he did find the screwdriver and it seemed to please him when an owner was not located. The captain let him keep it since it seemed that it would keep him from doing any more strange things to locate his original lost tool. We did not consider-” she trailed off as her wings quivered again.

There was silence between them for a few moments, Minxx was almost unwilling to continue and Chuul was almost too afraid to press for more details. Slowly, but surely, Minxx calmed herself enough to speak again. “we did not consider what he may be able to do when armed with a leverage optimiser.”

“We were given shore leave while the ship was being fixed after the gravity incident. Thank goodness the captain took out act’s-of-human insurance or it would have cost the profits from our next five cargo hauls.” The premiums were high, but it was worth it. “After 14 rotations, human-Mark began to complain over the lack of stimulation, he called it “bored.” On the 15th rotation he disappeared for some time and he had hoped he had found some new activity to occupy his time.”

Chuul did, but at the same time didn’t, want to know, “Had he?”

Minxx waved her antennae in confirmation, “he had. He was located in one of the cargo holds, using the screwdriver to dismantle one of the mining probes. To, quote “see how it worked.” It was almost 90% deconstructed.”

Mark had claimed it was almost 10% REconstructed, as he was trying to put it back together again, but couldn't quite remember where all the parts went. In Mark’s words, the captain was a “glass half-empty kinda guy” (whatever that meant) and wrote DEconstructed on the claim form for a replacement probe.

Chuul’s natural camouflage kicked in and they took on the colour of the chair they were sitting on. “Those probes have no screws for the leverage optimiser to use, how did he-”

Minxx’s wings shivered again, “no one knows how. He just did.”

Chuul was silent for a moment. He’d never served on a ship with a human before. He’d heard they made things “interesting” and if you ever got into trouble, a human was the very best thing to ever have on your side. It was why they were so many job opportunities for humans in the alliance. All the same...the thought of a human causing such damage and destruction just because of a lack of mental, or physical, stimulation was a more than a little frightening. What if the human wanted to see how the engines worked, or the weapons?!! “Maybe I should transfer to another ship.”

Minxx’s antennae curled, a smile to her race. “You are safe. The captain has found a way to occupy our humans free time. During our last stopover, he commissioned a shiny orb be constructed.”

Chuul coked their head, “what is a shiny orb?”

Minxx’s curled antennae moved up an down; a sign of mild laughter. “It is nothing. A sphere made of shiny metals, humans do like shiny things, roughly two feet diameter made of a collection of gears, levers, screws and switches which appear complex and should have a function, but do entirely nothing. The captain handed it to Human-Mark and stated: “see if you can fix this.” and Mark has been “tinkering” with it during his off-duty hours for almost 24 rotations now. He can take it apart and rebuild it as many times as he likes, but it will never perform any task.”

Chuul was just thinking about how their captain must be a genius, when the door to the mess hall opened and Human-Mark entered. He was carrying the shiny orb under one arm, and his screwdriver in the other hand. He looked around, seemingly not noticing any of the crew members. He smiled when he spotted an empty liquid container and sat down at the table with the cup.

Chuul and Minxx watched curiously as Mark set the orb on the table in front of the cup. He used the screwdriver to tighten one small screw and flipped a switch. At once there was a whirring and clicking of clockwork, a blinking of lights hidden in the depths of the machine and even a TING from a small bell. Then a small funnel-shaped piece of metal opened up in the side of the machine and poured a small amount of hot, black, liquid into the cup.

Mark jumped to his feet, pumping the air and yelling loudly enough to send Chuul’s camouflage reflex off again. He grabbed the orb, abandoning the cup of steaming hot liquid, and moved to the door.

Minxx stared after them, “Human-Mark?”

Mark only paused for a second in the doorway. He was prominently displaying his predatory teeth. Chuul had read about these “smiles” but it was still disturbing to see. “Can’t stop Minxy. I gotta let the captain know I fixed his coffee maker.”

With that, he left. Leaving Chuul and Minxx frozen in place, dumbfounded.

Wherever Chuul was going to transfer to, Minxx began to hope she could get a posting on the same ship.

The Survivors

“How did your people survive your first contact with the humans?” Slaver Lord Abrax catches up with Guild Master Felbin right after the official part of the conference was over.

“Hm?” the fat albino wombat wonders while munching fried roaches, looking puzzled into the face of the mighty reptilian warrior. “What do you mean? Survive?”

“You said you made first contact recently with the humans, didn’t you?”

“Oh yes. Weird people. Crossed into an exclusive trade zone inside our border, nibbled at some asteroids without asking. I send a scout ships, delivered an angry message to them. They were all ‘Oh, did we something wrong? You claim these? We need fuel, can we make a deal?’”

Felbin shovels another hand full of roasted bugs into his mouth, munching happily.

“So they were in a weak position? And you did press your advantage?”

Between munching the wombat mumbles “Oh No. Their fleet was quite impressive. Two medium support carriers, around a dozen smaller escort ships, two dozen industrial ships. A lot more than we had at hand at that moment. We were quite surprised when they offered compensation for trespassing our territory and a pretty fair deal on keeping the resources. And they immediately entered trade talks with us.”

“Stop bullshitting me old usurer!” the reptilian growls “How in the world did you force the humans into submission? When we learned of the humans we send a slaver fleet to their world, numbering hundreds of mighty warships, demanding 0,2% of their population per year as tribute. A very fair deal as you will agree!”

The wombat did the equivalent of shrugging his shoulders “Well if you say so. How did it end?”

“It ended terrible for them! We killed millions of them by our penal operation when they rejected our generous offer!”

“Well, that is partially true but not the whole story.” Princess Shem, her large belly swollen by hundreds of eggs interrupts the discussion. Outranked, the Slaver Lord hissed in annoyance and fell silent.

“They fought your fleet back with monstrous weapons, vaporising your mighty flagship with a single one of their ungodly ‘Nukes’, even ships dozens of miles away had their outer hulls molten by this single attack. After less than an hour your fleet had scattered. The biggest damage your fleet did was raining debris on their world, killing a couple of million unprepared civilians.”

“How do you know…” the Slaver Lord gasps “Not a single Slaver made it back alive!”

The princess bows down her antennas in shame “Because my father, the rightful ruler of my people, is currently prisoner of war in the hands of the humans. He watched your foolish posturing on television in his prison cell and was allowed to report the incident back to his home world as a deterrent against future aggression.”

“Your people surrendered to the humans? How pitiful!” laughs the Slaver Lord.

“Surrendered? No, we were simply overrun. And we most likely only got off easy because the humans decided you were a bigger threat.”

The wombat looks at the princess in surprise “Oh, your people went at war with the humans too? But why?”

“Territorial dispute. They settled a barren world in a remote system, we had a claim on it for centuries. In return we annexed one of their border colonies, arrested their officials and put them on trial.”

Master Felbin put his empty bowl aside and reached for the wine. “Oh. I guess they send you an angry letter, did they?”

“The letter was lacking all rules of court.” boasted the princess with her antennae twitching angrily “It made demands were praise was required and disputed the obvious. It was literally an insult. Can you imagine? They demanded ‘a diplomatic talk’ and ‘compensation’.”

While grooming his fur Master Felbin dryly stated “Well, I know myself human diplomats and lawyers are a very special pest. The trade agreement we worked out with them is literally an epic in itself, surpassing absolutely any work of literature of my people in length and complexity. The chapter on the shape of bananas alone is over 1400 pages long. Thanks but no thanks."

Felbin licked some wine before continuing "So you found their diplomats lacking and tried if their warriors were more amicable and found them lacking too?”

The princess grumbles ashamed “We never met their warriors. They send a police assault unit and subdued our occupation force while we were hibernating…”

Slave Lord Abrax laughed aloud “Oh yes, we also found out the hard way that humans do not hibernate like most others do. In fact they only need a light sleep to recover and not much of it anyway. Also they can go for days without sleep. Freck. To keep up with them we needed to outnumber them 10 to one, taking turns in sleeping 18 hours and fighting one hour. And then they still manage to outdo us most of the time.”

Guild Master Felbin stopped licking at his expensive gobble of wine. “Aha, so you were pretty lucky when they offered you a somewhat fair peace deal?”

“Ending slavery was not a ‘somewhat fair peace deal’” Abrax railed “Our whole society was based on exploitation of the weak and now even high warriors have to clean their houses themselves and pay for mere services like food preparation. This is utterly unacceptable!”

“Oh dear, how pitiful you look.” Felbin giggled “And still both of you can be happy you survived your first contact with the humans almost intact.”

“Like there is any bigger disgrace than having ones father being prisoner of war.” Princess Shem grumbled.

“Or having to change your entire way of living.” Slaver Lord Abrax muttered.

“Yes, I think I am the lucky one of us three” smirked Felbin “although I have regular nightmares about human paper work recently. But trust me, compared to the devourers, we all got off easy.”

“The Devourers?” Abrax laughed “They are a myth. Parents tell their children about the Devourers when they don’t behave and need a good scare.” and with a mocking tone he continued “Head your parents words or the Devourers eat you!”

Even Princess Shem proclaimed with fervour: "As if nature would even allow such horrors! Beasts the size of a house, attacking entire worlds in apocalyptic numbers and devouring everything in their path."

“Oh, nonono. Devourers are not a myth.” the guild master explained “Yes, they haven’t swarmed in two centuries but my people still remember them from the old times when they crushed even the best defended worlds into dust during their reproduction cycle.”

Looking for something, Felbin continued “Actually, have you seen the Human Ambassador? Or, to be more precise, his young daughter?”

Shem turned her antennae towards the girl on the other side of the conference room: “She doesn't look anything special. For a human.”

“Nonono, also not the daughter. Her pet. The six legged creature sitting on her shoulder?”

Abrax and Shem looked puzzled at Guildmaster Felbin, then at the creature on the young girl's shoulder. The creature purred and played with the scraps of food the daughter offered to it.

“That is what is left of the devourers after the humans have tamed them.”

Found the first chapter of this on r/HFY and was entertained, saw it got posted offsite, thought I might share here. Warning for Wattpad.

Summary:

Humanity emerges from the aftermath of the technological singularity having conquered scarcity, disease, poverty, aging, death, and, or so they thought, even war. With the aid of artificial intelligence and uplifted animals they have founded a virtual Utopia among the stars where people work only for personal development, satisfaction, or selflessly for the benefit of others.

An attempt to help another space-faring species has unexpected consequences that threatens to engulf a whole region of space, and the Human Consensus is forced to intervene. When the small conflict grows into an existential threat to their entire civilization, humanity is forced for the first time to ask the question: can Utopia survive total war?

I was reading a TTRPG article and some of the things it said just made me think of a lot of HFY stories and with why nonhuman species/races are often written the way they are here, and how they are juxtaposed with humans to get a HFY effect. It might be stuff I might have known in the back of my head, but it feels different to have it actually written out by someone else.

In a section about always-good and always-evil fantasy races…

> All of which, by the by, highlights a very important thing about humans. Humans are uniquely and distinctly not always anything. They can rise and fall like no other race. And that makes them special and powerful and dangerous.

About fantasy races being more of a monoculture than having individuals…

> I know it’s a big part of why fantastic worlds feel fantastic. If every member of every race is a unique and distinct individual, then everyone’s just people. Some people are green and some have funny ears and some get to reroll the d20 whenever it shows a 1, but they’re all just people. And thus there’s nothing wonderful or special or magical or terrible or frightening about anything that isn’t human.

> Sorry, your elf isn’t special if he’s a unique individual. He’s just like everyone else.

This got a nice little subsection to itself:

> Do you know why always evil humanoids are great fodder for stories? It’s because they show what happens when, on a societal level, humans don’t rise above their base instincts. They represent humans who failed to create social orders that curb their impulses toward evil. Orcs are humans whose societies are governed by anger, bitterness, and hatred. Hobgoblins are humans whose societies are all about military conquest and enslavement. Goblins are humans whose societies reward the greedy, the grasping, the cowardly, and the lazy. It’s nice to be able to explore this shit without having to use stripped-down caricatures of historical societies that require more nuance to understand than what a story or game can handle.

> I’d also like to point out that even the good non-humans aren’t exactly aspirational in traditional fantasy. Take Tolkien’s elves or his ents for example. They were kind of crap. They did nothing, accomplished nothing, and changed nothing until spurred on by the normal, everyday, human people whom Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin — and to a lesser extent Aragorn — represented.

> Because humans are awesome when they make themselves awesome. When they don’t, though, they’re just the worst.

And then…

> Remember that all this shit’s really just to show how amazing the human capacity for self-determination really is. We don’t appreciate that because, well, we’re surrounded by humans in the real world. That’s why we need fantasy worlds to show us all sorts of creatures that lack the traits we humans take for granted.

Originally posted on r/HFY, also crossposted to the Royal Road. Features us healing aliens :)

In no particular order, some of the Humans Are Weird stories which the author, Betty Adams, often crossposts to the HFY sub on Reddit. I have linked to her website where she also hosts them, instead of Reddit.

One of my favorite HFY series from r/HFY. It’s urban fantasy mixed with slice of life. The author has since moved off Reddit and is now posting it on the Royal Road website!

This one’s sci-fi, and in my opinion pretty HFY too. I personally think it helps if you know stuff about Alan Turing, but if not it’s still a good read.

Link takes you to a PDF on an external site, not to a page on Reddit.

I’d say this was pretty well-known on r/hfy. Figured I ought to post it here!

If you don’t want to read 20 pages and just have time for the summary, you can find one on the story’s Wikipedia page!

Not my work but a very early and really moving example of HFY.

Copyright has run out so it is basically free. I suggest to read the linked version as it contains illustrations and legal mumbo jumbo:

A Pail of Air

The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Pail of Air

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: A Pail of Air

Author: Fritz Leiber

Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller

Release date: March 15, 2016 \[eBook #51461\]

Language: English

\\\* START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PAIL OF AIR \\\*

Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

A Pail of Air

By FRITZ LEIBER

Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

The dark star passed, bringing with it eternal night and turning history into incredible myth in a single generation!

Pa had sent me out to get an extra pail of air. I'd just about scooped it full and most of the warmth had leaked from my fingers when I saw the thing.

You know, at first I thought it was a young lady. Yes, a beautiful young lady's face all glowing in the dark and looking at me from the fifth floor of the opposite apartment, which hereabouts is the floor just above the white blanket of frozen air. I'd never seen a live young lady before, except in the old magazines--Sis is just a kid and Ma is pretty sick and miserable--and it gave me such a start that I dropped the pail. Who wouldn't, knowing everyone on Earth was dead except Pa and Ma and Sis and you?

Even at that, I don't suppose I should have been surprised. We all see things now and then. Ma has some pretty bad ones, to judge from the way she bugs her eyes at nothing and just screams and screams and huddles back against the blankets hanging around the Nest. Pa says it is natural we should react like that sometimes.

When I'd recovered the pail and could look again at the opposite apartment, I got an idea of what Ma might be feeling at those times, for I saw it wasn't a young lady at all but simply a light--a tiny light that moved stealthily from window to window, just as if one of the cruel little stars had come down out of the airless sky to investigate why the Earth had gone away from the Sun, and maybe to hunt down something to torment or terrify, now that the Earth didn't have the Sun's protection.

I tell you, the thought of it gave me the creeps. I just stood there shaking, and almost froze my feet and did frost my helmet so solid on the inside that I couldn't have seen the light even if it had come out of one of the windows to get me. Then I had the wit to go back inside.

Pretty soon I was feeling my familiar way through the thirty or so blankets and rugs Pa has got hung around to slow down the escape of air from the Nest, and I wasn't quite so scared. I began to hear the tick-ticking of the clocks in the Nest and knew I was getting back into air, because there's no sound outside in the vacuum, of course. But my mind was still crawly and uneasy as I pushed through the last blankets--Pa's got them faced with aluminum foil to hold in the heat--and came into the Nest.

* * * * *

Let me tell you about the Nest. It's low and snug, just room for the four of us and our things. The floor is covered with thick woolly rugs. Three of the sides are blankets, and the blankets roofing it touch Pa's head. He tells me it's inside a much bigger room, but I've never seen the real walls or ceiling.

Against one of the blanket-walls is a big set of shelves, with tools and books and other stuff, and on top of it a whole row of clocks. Pa's very fussy about keeping them wound. He says we must never forget time, and without a sun or moon, that would be easy to do.

The fourth wall has blankets all over except around the fireplace, in which there is a fire that must never go out. It keeps us from freezing and does a lot more besides. One of us must always watch it. Some of the clocks are alarm and we can use them to remind us. In the early days there was only Ma to take turns with Pa--I think of that when she gets difficult--but now there's me to help, and Sis too.

It's Pa who is the chief guardian of the fire, though. I always think of him that way: a tall man sitting cross-legged, frowning anxiously at the fire, his lined face golden in its light, and every so often carefully placing on it a piece of coal from the big heap beside it. Pa tells me there used to be guardians of the fire sometimes in the very old days--vestal virgins, he calls them--although there was unfrozen air all around then and you didn't really need one.

He was sitting just that way now, though he got up quick to take the pail from me and bawl me out for loitering--he'd spotted my frozen helmet right off. That roused Ma and she joined in picking on me. She's always trying to get the load off her feelings, Pa explains. He shut her up pretty fast. Sis let off a couple of silly squeals too.

Pa handled the pail of air in a twist of cloth. Now that it was inside the Nest, you could really feel its coldness. It just seemed to suck the heat out of everything. Even the flames cringed away from it as Pa put it down close by the fire.

Yet it's that glimmery white stuff in the pail that keeps us alive. It slowly melts and vanishes and refreshes the Nest and feeds the fire. The blankets keep it from escaping too fast. Pa'd like to seal the whole place, but he can't--building's too earthquake-twisted, and besides he has to leave the chimney open for smoke.

Pa says air is tiny molecules that fly away like a flash if there isn't something to stop them. We have to watch sharp not to let the air run low. Pa always keeps a big reserve supply of it in buckets behind the first blankets, along with extra coal and cans of food and other things, such as pails of snow to melt for water. We have to go way down to the bottom floor for that stuff, which is a mean trip, and get it through a door to outside.

You see, when the Earth got cold, all the water in the air froze first and made a blanket ten feet thick or so everywhere, and then down on top of that dropped the crystals of frozen air, making another white blanket sixty or seventy feet thick maybe.

Of course, all the parts of the air didn't freeze and snow down at the same time.

First to drop out was the carbon dioxide--when you're shoveling for water, you have to make sure you don't go too high and get any of that stuff mixed in, for it would put you to sleep, maybe for good, and make the fire go out. Next there's the nitrogen, which doesn't count one way or the other, though it's the biggest part of the blanket. On top of that and easy to get at, which is lucky for us, there's the oxygen that keeps us alive. Pa says we live better than kings ever did, breathing pure oxygen, but we're used to it and don't notice. Finally, at the very top, there's a slick of liquid helium, which is funny stuff. All of these gases in neat separate layers. Like a pussy caffay, Pa laughingly says, whatever that is.

* * * * *

I was busting to tell them all about what I'd seen, and so as soon as I'd ducked out of my helmet and while I was still climbing out of my suit, I cut loose. Right away Ma got nervous and began making eyes at the entry-slit in the blankets and wringing her hands together--the hand where she'd lost three fingers from frostbite inside the good one, as usual. I could tell that Pa was annoyed at me scaring her and wanted to explain it all away quickly, yet could see I wasn't fooling.

"And you watched this light for some time, son?" he asked when I finished.

I hadn't said anything about first thinking it was a young lady's face. Somehow that part embarrassed me.

"Long enough for it to pass five windows and go to the next floor."

"And it didn't look like stray electricity or crawling liquid or starlight focused by a growing crystal, or anything like that?"

He wasn't just making up those ideas. Odd things happen in a world that's about as cold as can be, and just when you think matter would be frozen dead, it takes on a strange new life. A slimy stuff comes crawling toward the Nest, just like an animal snuffing for heat--that's the liquid helium. And once, when I was little, a bolt of lightning--not even Pa could figure where it came from--hit the nearby steeple and crawled up and down it for weeks, until the glow finally died.

"Not like anything I ever saw," I told him.

He stood for a moment frowning. Then, "I'll go out with you, and you show it to me," he said.

Ma raised a howl at the idea of being left alone, and Sis joined in, too, but Pa quieted them. We started climbing into our outside clothes--mine had been warming by the fire. Pa made them. They have plastic headpieces that were once big double-duty transparent food cans, but they keep heat and air in and can replace the air for a little while, long enough for our trips for water and coal and food and so on.

Ma started moaning again, "I've always known there was something outside there, waiting to get us. I've felt it for years--something that's part of the cold and hates all warmth and wants to destroy the Nest. It's been watching us all this time, and now it's coming after us. It'll get you and then come for me. Don't go, Harry!"

Pa had everything on but his helmet. He knelt by the fireplace and reached in and shook the long metal rod that goes up the chimney and knocks off the ice that keeps trying to clog it. Once a week he goes up on the roof to check if it's working all right. That's our worst trip and Pa won't let me make it alone.

"Sis," Pa said quietly, "come watch the fire. Keep an eye on the air, too. If it gets low or doesn't seem to be boiling fast enough, fetch another bucket from behind the blanket. But mind your hands. Use the cloth to pick up the bucket."

Sis quit helping Ma be frightened and came over and did as she was told. Ma quieted down pretty suddenly, though her eyes were still kind of wild as she watched Pa fix on his helmet tight and pick up a pail and the two of us go out.

* * * * *

Pa led the way and I took hold of his belt. It's a funny thing, I'm not afraid to go by myself, but when Pa's along I always want to hold on to him. Habit, I guess, and then there's no denying that this time I was a bit scared.

You see, it's this way. We know that everything is dead out there. Pa heard the last radio voices fade away years ago, and had seen some of the last folks die who weren't as lucky or well-protected as us. So we knew that if there was something groping around out there, it couldn't be anything human or friendly.

Besides that, there's a feeling that comes with it always being night, cold night. Pa says there used to be some of that feeling even in the old days, but then every morning the Sun would come and chase it away. I have to take his word for that, not ever remembering the Sun as being anything more than a big star. You see, I hadn't been born when the dark star snatched us away from the Sun, and by now it's dragged us out beyond the orbit of the planet Pluto, Pa says, and taking us farther out all the time.

I found myself wondering whether there mightn't be something on the dark star that wanted us, and if that was why it had captured the Earth. Just then we came to the end of the corridor and I followed Pa out on the balcony.

I don't know what the city looked like in the old days, but now it's beautiful. The starlight lets you see it pretty well--there's quite a bit of light in those steady points speckling the blackness above. (Pa says the stars used to twinkle once, but that was because there was air.) We are on a hill and the shimmery plain drops away from us and then flattens out, cut up into neat squares by the troughs that used to be streets. I sometimes make my mashed potatoes look like it, before I pour on the gravy.

Some taller buildings push up out of the feathery plain, topped by rounded caps of air crystals, like the fur hood Ma wears, only whiter. On those buildings you can see the darker squares of windows, underlined by white dashes of air crystals. Some of them are on a slant, for many of the buildings are pretty badly twisted by the quakes and all the rest that happened when the dark star captured the Earth.

Here and there a few icicles hang, water icicles from the first days of the cold, other icicles of frozen air that melted on the roofs and dripped and froze again. Sometimes one of those icicles will catch the light of a star and send it to you so brightly you think the star has swooped into the city. That was one of the things Pa had been thinking of when I told him about the light, but I had thought of it myself first and known it wasn't so.

He touched his helmet to mine so we could talk easier and he asked me to point out the windows to him. But there wasn't any light moving around inside them now, or anywhere else. To my surprise, Pa didn't bawl me out and tell me I'd been seeing things. He looked all around quite a while after filling his pail, and just as we were going inside he whipped around without warning, as if to take some peeping thing off guard.

I could feel it, too. The old peace was gone. There was something lurking out there, watching, waiting, getting ready.

Inside, he said to me, touching helmets, "If you see something like that again, son, don't tell the others. Your Ma's sort of nervous these days and we owe her all the feeling of safety we can give her. Once--it was when your sister was born--I was ready to give up and die, but your Mother kept me trying. Another time she kept the fire going a whole week all by herself when I was sick. Nursed me and took care of the two of you, too."

* * * * *

"You know that game we sometimes play, sitting in a square in the Nest, tossing a ball around? Courage is like a ball, son. A person can hold it only so long, and then he's got to toss it to someone else. When it's tossed your way, you've got to catch it and hold it tight--and hope there'll be someone else to toss it to when you get tired of being brave."

His talking to me that way made me feel grown-up and good. But it didn't wipe away the thing outside from the back of my mind--or the fact that Pa took it seriously.

* * * * *

It's hard to hide your feelings about such a thing. When we got back in the Nest and took off our outside clothes, Pa laughed about it all and told them it was nothing and kidded me for having such an imagination, but his words fell flat. He didn't convince Ma and Sis any more than he did me. It looked for a minute like we were all fumbling the courage-ball. Something had to be done, and almost before I knew what I was going to say, I heard myself asking Pa to tell us about the old days, and how it all happened.

He sometimes doesn't mind telling that story, and Sis and I sure like to listen to it, and he got my idea. So we were all settled around the fire in a wink, and Ma pushed up some cans to thaw for supper, and Pa began. Before he did, though, I noticed him casually get a hammer from the shelf and lay it down beside him.

It was the same old story as always--I think I could recite the main thread of it in my sleep--though Pa always puts in a new detail or two and keeps improving it in spots.

He told us how the Earth had been swinging around the Sun ever so steady and warm, and the people on it fixing to make money and wars and have a good time and get power and treat each other right or wrong, when without warning there comes charging out of space this dead star, this burned out sun, and upsets everything.

You know, I find it hard to believe in the way those people felt, any more than I can believe in the swarming number of them. Imagine people getting ready for the horrible sort of war they were cooking up. Wanting it even, or at least wishing it were over so as to end their nervousness. As if all folks didn't have to hang together and pool every bit of warmth just to keep alive. And how can they have hoped to end danger, any more than we can hope to end the cold?

Sometimes I think Pa exaggerates and makes things out too black. He's cross with us once in a while and was probably cross with all those folks. Still, some of the things I read in the old magazines sound pretty wild. He may be right.

* * * * *

The dark star, as Pa went on telling it, rushed in pretty fast and there wasn't much time to get ready. At the beginning they tried to keep it a secret from most people, but then the truth came out, what with the earthquakes and floods--imagine, oceans of unfrozen water!--and people seeing stars blotted out by something on a clear night. First off they thought it would hit the Sun, and then they thought it would hit the Earth. There was even the start of a rush to get to a place called China, because people thought the star would hit on the other side. But then they found it wasn't going to hit either side, but was going to come very close to the Earth.

Most of the other planets were on the other side of the Sun and didn't get involved. The Sun and the newcomer fought over the Earth for a little while--pulling it this way and that, like two dogs growling over a bone, Pa described it this time--and then the newcomer won and carried us off. The Sun got a consolation prize, though. At the last minute he managed to hold on to the Moon.

That was the time of the monster earthquakes and floods, twenty times worse than anything before. It was also the time of the Big Jerk, as Pa calls it, when all Earth got yanked suddenly, just as Pa has done to me once or twice, grabbing me by the collar to do it, when I've been sitting too far from the fire.

You see, the dark star was going through space faster than the Sun, and in the opposite direction, and it had to wrench the world considerably in order to take it away.

The Big Jerk didn't last long. It was over as soon as the Earth was settled down in its new orbit around the dark star. But it was pretty terrible while it lasted. Pa says that all sorts of cliffs and buildings toppled, oceans slopped over, swamps and sandy deserts gave great sliding surges that buried nearby lands. Earth was almost jerked out of its atmosphere blanket and the air got so thin in spots that people keeled over and fainted--though of course, at the same time, they were getting knocked down by the Big Jerk and maybe their bones broke or skulls cracked.

We've often asked Pa how people acted during that time, whether they were scared or brave or crazy or stunned, or all four, but he's sort of leery of the subject, and he was again tonight. He says he was mostly too busy to notice.

You see, Pa and some scientist friends of his had figured out part of what was going to happen--they'd known we'd get captured and our air would freeze--and they'd been working like mad to fix up a place with airtight walls and doors, and insulation against the cold, and big supplies of food and fuel and water and bottled air. But the place got smashed in the last earthquakes and all Pa's friends were killed then and in the Big Jerk. So he had to start over and throw the Nest together quick without any advantages, just using any stuff he could lay his hands on.

I guess he's telling pretty much the truth when he says he didn't have any time to keep an eye on how other folks behaved, either then or in the Big Freeze that followed--followed very quick, you know, both because the dark star was pulling us away very fast and because Earth's rotation had been slowed in the tug-of-war, so that the nights were ten old nights long.

Still, I've got an idea of some of the things that happened from the frozen folk I've seen, a few of them in other rooms in our building, others clustered around the furnaces in the basements where we go for coal.

In one of the rooms, an old man sits stiff in a chair, with an arm and a leg in splints. In another, a man and woman are huddled together in a bed with heaps of covers over them. You can just see their heads peeking out, close together. And in another a beautiful young lady is sitting with a pile of wraps huddled around her, looking hopefully toward the door, as if waiting for someone who never came back with warmth and food. They're all still and stiff as statues, of course, but just like life.

Pa showed them to me once in quick winks of his flashlight, when he still had a fair supply of batteries and could afford to waste a little light. They scared me pretty bad and made my heart pound, especially the young lady.

* * * * *

Now, with Pa telling his story for the umpteenth time to take our minds off another scare, I got to thinking of the frozen folk again. All of a sudden I got an idea that scared me worse than anything yet. You see, I'd just remembered the face I'd thought I'd seen in the window. I'd forgotten about that on account of trying to hide it from the others.

What, I asked myself, if the frozen folk were coming to life? What if they were like the liquid helium that got a new lease on life and started crawling toward the heat just when you thought its molecules ought to freeze solid forever? Or like the electricity that moves endlessly when it's just about as cold as that? What if the ever-growing cold, with the temperature creeping down the last few degrees to the last zero, had mysteriously wakened the frozen folk to life--not warm-blooded life, but something icy and horrible?

That was a worse idea than the one about something coming down from the dark star to get us.

Or maybe, I thought, both ideas might be true. Something coming down from the dark star and making the frozen folk move, using them to do its work. That would fit with both things I'd seen--the beautiful young lady and the moving, starlike light.

The frozen folk with minds from the dark star behind their unwinking eyes, creeping, crawling, snuffing their way, following the heat to the Nest.

I tell you, that thought gave me a very bad turn and I wanted very badly to tell the others my fears, but I remembered what Pa had said and clenched my teeth and didn't speak.

We were all sitting very still. Even the fire was burning silently. There was just the sound of Pa's voice and the clocks.

And then, from beyond the blankets, I thought I heard a tiny noise. My skin tightened all over me.

Pa was telling about the early years in the Nest and had come to the place where he philosophizes.

"So I asked myself then," he said, "what's the use of going on? What's the use of dragging it out for a few years? Why prolong a doomed existence of hard work and cold and loneliness? The human race is done. The Earth is done. Why not give up, I asked myself--and all of a sudden I got the answer."

Again I heard the noise, louder this time, a kind of uncertain, shuffling tread, coming closer. I couldn't breathe.

"Life's always been a business of working hard and fighting the cold," Pa was saying. "The earth's always been a lonely place, millions of miles from the next planet. And no matter how long the human race might have lived, the end would have come some night. Those things don't matter. What matters is that life is good. It has a lovely texture, like some rich cloth or fur, or the petals of flowers--you've seen pictures of those, but I can't describe how they feel--or the fire's glow. It makes everything else worth while. And that's as true for the last man as the first."

And still the steps kept shuffling closer. It seemed to me that the inmost blanket trembled and bulged a little. Just as if they were burned into my imagination, I kept seeing those peering, frozen eyes.

"So right then and there," Pa went on, and now I could tell that he heard the steps, too, and was talking loud so we maybe wouldn't hear them, "right then and there I told myself that I was going on as if we had all eternity ahead of us. I'd have children and teach them all I could. I'd get them to read books. I'd plan for the future, try to enlarge and seal the Nest. I'd do what I could to keep everything beautiful and growing. I'd keep alive my feeling of wonder even at the cold and the dark and the distant stars."

But then the blanket actually did move and lift. And there was a bright light somewhere behind it. Pa's voice stopped and his eyes turned to the widening slit and his hand went out until it touched and gripped the handle of the hammer beside him.

* * * * *

In through the blanket stepped the beautiful young lady. She stood there looking at us the strangest way, and she carried something bright and unwinking in her hand. And two other faces peered over her shoulders--men's faces, white and staring.

Well, my heart couldn't have been stopped for more than four or five beats before I realized she was wearing a suit and helmet like Pa's homemade ones, only fancier, and that the men were, too--and that the frozen folk certainly wouldn't be wearing those. Also, I noticed that the bright thing in her hand was just a kind of flashlight.

The silence kept on while I swallowed hard a couple of times, and after that there was all sorts of jabbering and commotion.

They were simply people, you see. We hadn't been the only ones to survive; we'd just thought so, for natural enough reasons. These three people had survived, and quite a few others with them. And when we found out how they'd survived, Pa let out the biggest whoop of joy.

They were from Los Alamos and they were getting their heat and power from atomic energy. Just using the uranium and plutonium intended for bombs, they had enough to go on for thousands of years. They had a regular little airtight city, with air-locks and all. They even generated electric light and grew plants and animals by it. (At this Pa let out a second whoop, waking Ma from her faint.)

But if we were flabbergasted at them, they were double-flabbergasted at us.

One of the men kept saying, "But it's impossible, I tell you. You can't maintain an air supply without hermetic sealing. It's simply impossible."

That was after he had got his helmet off and was using our air. Meanwhile, the young lady kept looking around at us as if we were saints, and telling us we'd done something amazing, and suddenly she broke down and cried.

They'd been scouting around for survivors, but they never expected to find any in a place like this. They had rocket ships at Los Alamos and plenty of chemical fuel. As for liquid oxygen, all you had to do was go out and shovel the air blanket at the top level. So after they'd got things going smoothly at Los Alamos, which had taken years, they'd decided to make some trips to likely places where there might be other survivors. No good trying long-distance radio signals, of course, since there was no atmosphere to carry them around the curve of the Earth.

Well, they'd found other colonies at Argonne and Brookhaven and way around the world at Harwell and Tanna Tuva. And now they'd been giving our city a look, not really expecting to find anything. But they had an instrument that noticed the faintest heat waves and it had told them there was something warm down here, so they'd landed to investigate. Of course we hadn't heard them land, since there was no air to carry the sound, and they'd had to investigate around quite a while before finding us. Their instruments had given them a wrong steer and they'd wasted some time in the building across the street.

* * * * *

By now, all five adults were talking like sixty. Pa was demonstrating to the men how he worked the fire and got rid of the ice in the chimney and all that. Ma had perked up wonderfully and was showing the young lady her cooking and sewing stuff, and even asking about how the women dressed at Los Alamos. The strangers marveled at everything and praised it to the skies. I could tell from the way they wrinkled their noses that they found the Nest a bit smelly, but they never mentioned that at all and just asked bushels of questions.

In fact, there was so much talking and excitement that Pa forgot about things, and it wasn't until they were all getting groggy that he looked and found the air had all boiled away in the pail. He got another bucket of air quick from behind the blankets. Of course that started them all laughing and jabbering again. The newcomers even got a little drunk. They weren't used to so much oxygen.

Funny thing, though--I didn't do much talking at all and Sis hung on to Ma all the time and hid her face when anybody looked at her. I felt pretty uncomfortable and disturbed myself, even about the young lady. Glimpsing her outside there, I'd had all sorts of mushy thoughts, but now I was just embarrassed and scared of her, even though she tried to be nice as anything to me.

I sort of wished they'd all quit crowding the Nest and let us be alone and get our feelings straightened out.

And when the newcomers began to talk about our all going to Los Alamos, as if that were taken for granted, I could see that something of the same feeling struck Pa and Ma, too. Pa got very silent all of a sudden and Ma kept telling the young lady, "But I wouldn't know how to act there and I haven't any clothes."

The strangers were puzzled like anything at first, but then they got the idea. As Pa kept saying, "It just doesn't seem right to let this fire go out."

* * * * *

Well, the strangers are gone, but they're coming back. It hasn't been decided yet just what will happen. Maybe the Nest will be kept up as what one of the strangers called a "survival school." Or maybe we will join the pioneers who are going to try to establish a new colony at the uranium mines at Great Slave Lake or in the Congo.

Of course, now that the strangers are gone, I've been thinking a lot about Los Alamos and those other tremendous colonies. I have a hankering to see them for myself.

You ask me, Pa wants to see them, too. He's been getting pretty thoughtful, watching Ma and Sis perk up.

"It's different, now that we know others are alive," he explains to me. "Your mother doesn't feel so hopeless any more. Neither do I, for that matter, not having to carry the whole responsibility for keeping the human race going, so to speak. It scares a person."

I looked around at the blanket walls and the fire and the pails of air boiling away and Ma and Sis sleeping in the warmth and the flickering light.

"It's not going to be easy to leave the Nest," I said, wanting to cry, kind of. "It's so small and there's just the four of us. I get scared at the idea of big places and a lot of strangers."

He nodded and put another piece of coal on the fire. Then he looked at the little pile and grinned suddenly and put a couple of handfuls on, just as if it was one of our birthdays or Christmas.

"You'll quickly get over that feeling son," he said. "The trouble with the world was that it kept getting smaller and smaller, till it ended with just the Nest. Now it'll be good to have a real huge world again, the way it was in the beginning."

I guess he's right. You think the beautiful young lady will wait for me till I grow up? I'll be twenty in only ten years.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PAIL OF AIR ***

This is a massively reworked repost. The original has been posted a couple of weeks ago. I reworked it several times so it bears little connection to the original.

...

Yorktown

Yorktown

Chapter 1: First Blood

Admiral Tosomo of the Heraldry fleet tightened his safety belt one last time in the command room aboard the 'Fist of the Six Kingdoms'. Moments later, his fleet dropped out of warp, catching the unprepared Terran Proxima Fleet off guard. A cunning attack on the warp inhibitors allowed his fleet to strike directly at the heart of the enemy's main fleet base. Just five minutes earlier, the Empire of the Hundred Suns had officially declared war on the Terran Federation.

Tosomo began issuing orders from his prepared checklist. Everything was going according to plan so far. "Launch all bombers, followed by the fighters! Rail-guns, target their launch bays! Prevent their drones and fighters from launching!"

A rain of death and destruction descended upon the unprepared base, causing ships to explode and turning the battle into a one-sided massacre. However, Tosomo felt unsatisfied as half of the expected enemy fleet was nowhere to be seen, particularly the heavy carriers. Nevertheless, he had managed to lay ruin to a third of the coreward Terran fleet.

"My Lord," a young officer reported with a polite salute, "a fleet is approaching at high speed. Seven carriers and twenty-eight support destroyers. They have already deployed their drones and are advancing in full battle readiness!"

Surprised, Admiral Tosomo felt his neck fur bristle. Some enemies had not only managed to avoid complete annihilation, but they had also regrouped quickly for a counter-attack!

With his own troops running low on ammunition and out of position, Tosomo ordered an orderly withdrawal. Most of his objectives had been achieved, and now it was time to minimize losses.

"All fighters and bombers, disengage and break contact!” Tosomo commanded, “Wings still armed with anti-ship weapons, delay the enemy fleet as much as possible. Your bravery will be honored in the afterlife. All other wings, fall back to the nearest carrier. To all fleet ships: prepare for an orderly withdrawal."

As the Imperial fleet aligned for the withdrawal, two wings of heavy bombers headed towards the approaching Terran fleet, ready to meet the honorable death of an Imperial knight. Out of the 26 Imperial bombers, 21 were destroyed by the drones, SHORAD, and CIWS of the Terran fleet. Four bombers rammed into support destroyers, reducing them to molten wrecks, while one hit the bridge of the light carrier Yorktown, causing her to lose control and break formation, with fires raging on half of her decks.

With most of their objectives fulfilled, the Imperial Fleet departed, leaving behind burning wrecks and ruins, marking the beginning of the second interstellar war against the Terran Federation.

...

Chapter 2: To Victory

"You have performed admirably, Heraldry Admiral Tosomo," praised the Emperor personally during the audience, commending Tosomo for his remarkable success. It been just three weeks ago since the significant blow to the Terran Federation, with only 26 bombers lost while eliminating the most significant obstacle in the campaign to gain control of the Centauri system.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Tosomo replied, "May your light shine upon your knights and your shadow fall upon your enemies."

On the sidelines, the Emperor's sycophants and courtiers rejoiced at the imminent victory. However, Tosomo remained silent, accepting the praise while knowing that the battle was far from over.

And no sooner had he left the throne room than his adjutant approached him with grave news.

"My Lord, a ragtag fleet has just attacked supply outpost seventeen. The enemy fleet consisted of two light carriers with four destroyers for support. The leading carrier was the Yorktown."

Again, Tosomo felt the fur on the back of his neck stand up. The Yorktown... she was supposed to be a wreck. The bridge, the sensors—everything had been destroyed, akin to a decapitation by a sword. He had witnessed the fires raging below deck. Impossible.

He straighten up. "Prepare the second detachment. I will personally deal with the Yorktown."

One month later, Tosomo stood on the command deck of the 'Fist of the Six Kingdoms' once again. And there, facing him, was the Yorktown. She bore the scars of her previous battle but had been mostly repaired. A new tower, new sensors, new drones. She had not perished last time. But today, she would meet her end.

The enemy fleet was headed to join the main fleet, with the Imperial Fleet hot on their tail. The knights in their fighters and bombers closed in, overwhelming the main defenses of the enemy fleet. They fell swiftly, but not without a brutal fight. Only the Yorktown remained, her drones assembled around her, her flight deck riddled with holes, her guns glowing hot. She defiantly withstood the relentless assault of a superior enemy for another moment.

Finally Tosomo saluted the valiant ship as her engine exploded, tearing apart her aft section. She had fought bravely, but it had been a matter of honor for Tosomo to be the one to end her. He had gambled high to achieve his goal. Perhaps too high. Not only had he lost one wing of his best pilots to the enemy, but now his other five wings were dangerously low on fuel. The Terran Fleet's main force was closing in rapidly, their spearhead wings already engaging the depleted Imperial wings.

Tosomo decided to cut his losses and ordered the three most distant wings to die in honor while directing his fleet to retreat to safety. As his fleet disappeared into the darkness of deep space, the Yorktown continued to burn brightly while the Terran main fleet annihilated the remaining Imperial stragglers.

...

Chapter 3: Waypoint Station

Tosomo personally welcomed the replacement pilots aboard his fleet. Word had spread about the Yorktown, a mysterious ghost ship returning from the dead to haunt the living.

"You are following in the footsteps of the Empire's most honorable knights. We Knights strike hard, we knights strike fast, we knights hunt down our enemies without mercy. Do not believe the enemy's lies about the ghost ship. I personally witnessed her destruction. She is no more. Let the story of the Yorktown serve as a warning to our enemies that we never allow them to escape after shedding our blood."

He looked into the faces of the young recruits. They looked green, insecure. Those weren’t the elite knights he had to sacrifice to hunt down the Yorktown. But they would have to suffice for now. They would have to do for the upcoming campaign to capture Way-Point Station. A rotten dirt ball in the middle of nowhere, but also the most important resupply outpost within four light years.

Three months later his fleet dropped from warp, far away from Way-Point station. Eight heavy carriers, twelve battleships, sixty smaller escort ships. The Terran Warp-Scramblers were plenty and powerful, so this was the closest he could get to the outpost. He couldn't even determine the exact location of the enemy fleet, but he knew they faced the same challenge. The Imperial Fleet burned their engines hot to create distance from the warp exit point. Scouts raced off into the dark, fighters formed defensive screens around the fleet, and bombers prepared for action. After three days of stalking in the darkness, the scouts had reported only minimal enemy activity towards Way-Point Station.

The overall absence of enemy presence suggested that the station had no fleet defending it. Tosomo ordered his fleet to advance towards the station, preparing for planetary bombardment. From a safe distance, he launched his bombers and escort fighters, ready to surprise the station as he had done months ago against the Proxima base.

However, with his wings just halfway to the enemy base all hell broke lose! Several enemy scouts appeared from a different direction than the enemy base! Impossible! But what if the enemy fleet was nearby? Did both fleets pass each other just out of sensor range?

Tosomo immediately called back all fighters and bombers. He hastily launched his fighter reserve for fleet defense, urgently needed space in his hangars to accommodate the returning bombers, had to refit them for fleet operation, all while his flight decks were in utter chaos.

Just as he completed the reconfiguration, enemy bombers appeared on the sensors—six wings, a massive fleet. That was the complete complement of a heavy carrier! How could he have missed such a significant target?

His reserve fighters barely managed in time to engage the Terran bombers in a brutal fight and eventually emerged victorious. Meanwhile, his bombers and fighters returned from their interrupted assault on Way-Point Station, causing a bottleneck on the landing deck. Fighter after fighter, bomber after bomber waited for their landing clearance, resulting in overcrowding and confusion, several wings needing ammunition or armed with the wrong ammunition

Tosomo made the decision to reconfigure half of his fighters for fleet defense while refitting the other fighters and all bombers for anti-ship combat. He had just dispatched his first bomber wing to the suspected location of the enemy when the sirens blared again—more bombers were approaching from Way-Point Station!

The green fighters of his reserve wing attacked the enemy straight forward and without fear. And sure they won but by paying a terrible price in blood.

...

Chapter 4: A rock and a hard place

Just when Tosomo thought he would get a break another wing approached from another direction – there was only one sane conclusion: His fleet was trapped between two fleets and Way-point Station! They could attack from three sides at will. Unbeknownst to Tosomo, the last wing had been mistakenly sent in the wrong direction and was now returning with its fuel dangerously low, inadvertently stumbling upon the Imperial fleet.

His half refitted bombers and fighters filled his hangers, his fleet was essentially not combat-ready. Whatever was combat ready he threw into the meat grinder, several unorganized fighters from several ships joined the fray – within minutes, hundreds of fighters and bombers darted on fiery lances in the endless dark, tracer rounds drew lines across the darkness, explosions flashed through the sky. Even Tosomo struggled to keep up with the fierce fighting happening so close to his fleet.

Amidst the chaos a single enemy bomber slipped through and went straight for the open hangar bay of the heavy carrier ‘Spirit of the Ancestors’. The carriers guns spat fire and death towards the intruder, damaging him but not stopping him. The bomber crashed into the hanger, full of armed ships, full of ammunition. What happened next was a fierce flash as the ‘Spirit of the Ancestors’ was simply vaporized from internal explosions!

Tosomo slumped back in his seat, horrified by the sudden loss of one of his most valuable ships. His fleet was trapped, and the enemy continued to relentlessly attack. The Terrans had already lost seven full wings, yet another wing appeared on the sensors.

Finally a scout reported the location of one of the enemies fleets.

Six carriers. Two heavy carriers, four light carriers. Among them...

The Yorktown!

Bearing even more scars from her last battles. However, still she was moving under full power, riding on bright flames towards Tosomos fleet! Where he had seen her old engines explode, new pristine engines drove her forward, out of hell towards him, driven by a thirst for revenge. She unleashed fighters, bombers, and drones without end, accompanied by her fellow ships. Seven more wings were heading towards Tosomo's fleet, and there could be even more.

Tosomo gave the order to launch any armed fighter and bomber, regardless of their fitting. He sent the ground attack bombers against Way-Point Station and two formations of anti-ship bombers against the two fleets, against the fleet he successfully scouted, and the one he mistakenly believed to exits but was just the single enemy wing having lost its way. It was a last gamble before the hammer would come down on him.

When the Terran fighters and Imperial bombers engaged above Tosomo's fleet, it turned into a massacre. For the first time, the Imperials suffered significant losses and became increasingly disorganized. A random anti-ship missile struck another carrier, causing it to lose power. An enemy fighter pursued an Imperial fighter near Tosomo's flagship – the carriers CIWS made quick work of the Terran fighter but also of the Imperial fighter, both crashing into Tosomos ship. One hit the engines, while the other crashed so close to the bridge that the bridge decompressed, causing all systems to go offline.

Tosomo found himself hurled through the bridge, surrounded by debris. His adjutant was impaled by a steel bar, and Tosomo briefly lost consciousness. When he regained awareness, two ensigns were dragging him to a shuttle and informed him they were abandoning ship and transferring to the battleship 'Worlds on Fire.' Just as he boarded the shuttle, a massive explosion rocked the carrier, and through the hangar shields, he witnessed the 'Valiant Victory' drifting, ablaze and leaking atmosphere—another heavy carrier lost.

Upon reaching his new command deck on the 'Worlds on Fire,' he surveyed the losses. Out of the eight heavy carriers, four were completely lost. Two were burning but salvageable. The enemy fighters and bombers were retreating after suffering heavy losses. His own fighters still were so numerous that he didn’t even have space to land them on his last two carriers, not to mention the many bombers operating in the deepness of space.

Meanwhile, his bombers had reached Way-Point Station and commenced bombing empty hangars, depleted ammunition depots, and half empty fuel depots. A pointless operation, Way-Point Station was just an empty shell after having dealt massive damage to his fleet.

Shortly after this Pyrrhic victory, the anti-ship wings Tosomo had launched earlier finally encountered the enemy carrier group. Two Terran fighter wings met them face on and Tosomos bombers melted away like snow in the summer sun, under the combined fire of the fleet and the fighters. However, an Imperial wing managed to break through the Terran line, firing their ordinance at the Terran fleet, resulting in the destruction of several support ships and direct hits on three carriers. Among them, the Yorktown suffered significant damage, losing its main maneuver thrusters and spiraling out of control.

With no place to retreat, the Imperial bombers received the final order from Tosomo: fight to the death. The Yorktown. He realized how much of a symbol she had become. A symbol which he intended to destroy, no matter the costs. Out of spite, he ordered his doomed wings to focus their attacks on the Yorktown.

The battle around the Terran fleet intensified as they valiantly defended the Yorktown. Despite the Terrans efforts, the Imperial bombers managed to strike the Yorktown seven more times until she finally broke in two, her keel shattered and her gut spilling into space.

Tis was good. The Yorktown was no more. A flawed but personal victory for Tosomo.

He immediately ordered his fleet to retreat, but it was not an orderly withdrawal. It was a desperate run for their lives. He left behind the wreckage of four carriers, two battleships, and six escort ships. Compared to his initial strength, only one-third of the fighters and bombers managed to squeeze into the remaining hangars, leaving a quarter of them behind with no room to land. They had no choice but to fight to the end, devoid of ammunition and fuel. They refused to surrender, and the Terran fleet simply waited for them to suffocate in the dark, cold void of space.

...

Chapter 5: The Ghost Ship

"So you have finally brought the Emperor's justice upon the Yorktown, Heraldry Admiral Tosomo."

Tosomo couldn't ignore the slight insecurity in the Emperor's voice, though he would never mention that publicly.

"Yes, Your Highness. She is no more. She broke in two. We haven't seen her for six months. She is gone."

Since the Battle of Way-Point Station, the Imperial fleet had been force into defense, and at Tosomo's request, he was now overseeing the fleet's rebuilding.

The Emperor waved his hand, and a hologram of a battle appeared in the middle of the room.

"Then explain this to me."

The Yorktown! Her flight deck ablaze! She was sailing without power above the burning Imperial colony of Oshtay Prime, surrounded by Terran and Imperial wrecks. The Terrans had rebuilt her AGAIN! The damaged midsection was visibly replaced with a new one, made from a different material. She had even gotten larger through this repair, now easily classifying as a medium assault carrier.

"My Lord, this cannot be true! I saw her... but... it is her! I recognize her scars! It is the Yorktown again! My Lord, I have no excuse for my failure."

"This is getting out of hand," thundered the Emperor. "The Empire is becoming alarmed by the rampant myths surrounding this insignificant ship. Even the children fear the undying Yorktown."

Tosomo didn't dare to look at the Emperor as his voice boomed through the hall.

"I, Emperor Yaday the 19th, command you to restore your honor by putting an end to this insult to our might once and for all. Dismissed."

Etiquette demanded that Tosomo remain silent and depart the hall, his face bowed in shame. Thankfully, this concealed his horrified expression from the Emperor.

...

Chapter 6: Undying

It happened again. At the battle of Leifstein the Yorktown showed up again. Bearing scars all over her hull she engaged in a one-on-one battle with Tosomo’s heavy carrier. She ultimately lost but managed to ram her burning hulk into a nearby Imperial battleship. Then Tosomo was then forced to order his fleet to fall back to avoid being flanked by the Terran main fleet.

Just two days later, Tosomo witnessed the badly damaged Yorktown escorting a troop carrier, using her SHORAD and CIWS systems to protect the troops during their landing. The bow of the Yorktown was mostly gone, ripped away, exposing her interior structure. Although unable to function as a carrier, her guns proved effective in suppressing the imperial ground forces. In the end, the Yorktown crash-landed alongside the troop carrier, and her crew joined the ground assault. As a result, the Imperial fleet had to break orbit after losing their ground-to-orbit cover.

Following a brutal six-week slaughter, the colony fell. The Emperor's personal order was for his troops to fight to the last drop of blood, demonstrating to the Terrans the high cost of further incursions into Imperial territory. Thus, his troops perished while fulfilling their duty. Out of nearly three million Imperial soldiers, fewer than 300 survived. The toll on the Terran side was also significant, but their war machine, now running at full steam, showed little sign of slowing down.

Four weeks later, the Yorktown reappeared, hastily patched together but already operating at 80% efficiency. While patrolling supply lines, she encountered an Imperial fleet detachment and rescued an Amazonax Super Freighter from certain destruction. Facing an Imperial light carrier and two escort ships, the commanders on both sides stared each other down for a minute before the Terran Captain transmitted his laughter via radio to his enemy and ordered the attack on the superior force.

The Imperial ships' final transmission reported a burning escort ship, one escort ship dishonoring itself by fleeing with dozens of fighters in pursuit, and the Yorktown ramming her nose directly into the bridge of the Imperial carrier. The Yorktown had been leaking atmosphere even before the ramming operation, so her crew was as good as dead. The next day, Terran news reported the successful boarding and capture of the imperial light carrier by the Yorktown's crew—an unprecedented feat in the age of space combat!

When the Terran fleet reached the last world before the Imperial planetopolis two months later, it was hardly a fair fight. The Imperial ships were in dire shape, with even their vac-doors failing to seal properly due to a lack of spare parts. For every Imperial ship there were three Terran ship, for every Imperial fighter there were five Terran fighters, for every Imperial bombers there were three Terran bombers, twice the size of the Imperial ones.

The battle commenced with the Yorktown flanking the enemy and launching waves of bombers at the Imperial supply ships. The results were devastating for the Imperial force. What was expected to be a months-long siege was reduced to a battle lasting days before supplies ran out. Sure, the Yorktown got punished hard—railguns and torpedoes tore open her portside, she began to tumble and slowly descend into the atmosphere, trailed by dozens of enemy and friendly fighters and bombers locked in combat. When she crashed into the south pole's ice, she lost her bridge once again, broke her keel, and half of her decks burned out. Nevertheless, her surviving crew held out in the grim cold isolation for three weeks until rescue arrived.

The last Imperial transmission from the world of 'Gods Praise' depicted heavy Terran carriers towing the wreckage of the Yorktown into the newly conquered Imperial docks for repairs. The Yorktown had become an almost unrecognizable heap of junk and twisted metal.

For the first time, Imperial forces surrendered en masse on the ground and in orbit. When the Imperial knights were asked about their surrender, many claimed they were afraid of the undead ship. That they believed they couldn't fight an enemy that returned ceaselessly from the afterlife to fulfill her duty.

...

Chapter 7: Endgame

The palace of Emperor Yaday the 19th shook under heavy shock waves. The end was nigh; it was obvious to everyone except the Emperor. The Terran fleet darkened the sky and swiftly overwhelmed the orbital defenses. The once honorable knights of the Empire still stood before the enemy, but they were so few in number, most knights now were fearful youngsters, hastily conscripted, filled with doubt and fear. They surrendered in droves.

Heraldry Admiral Tosomo stared down the Imperial bodyguards.

"Let me in. This is your final warning," he commanded.

The last of the Emperor's bodyguards stood at gunpoint, facing Tosomo's personal knights.

"We cannot. We have sworn an oath," one replied as they reached for their swords.

"Very well. May the gods honor your loyalty. I will not."

Tosomo waved his hand, and his knights gunned down the Emperor's bodyguards. Without wasting a second, they broke through the door to the throne room, surrounding the Emperor without an Empire, their guns pointed at him.

"Put an end to this madness NOW!" Tosomo barked.

"You are betraying your oath, subordinate!"

Tosomo held up a communication device, displaying the face of a human admiral.

"I am Grand Admiral Wilhelm Praetorius the Elder, commander of the allied Terran Fleets. We are prepared for a full-scale invasion of your last world. Your game is over. Save face and salvage what remains of your Empire. Surrender now."

"Never!" Yaday defiantly cried out.

"Then we will send the Yorktown after you. She witnessed the beginning of this war and will witness its end. This frequency will remain open until she arrives."

Tosomo had reached his breaking point. He stormed forward, grabbed his Emperor by the collar, held a gun against his head, and dragged him toward the balcony.

"Look at what you have brought upon your Empire! Upon your Heir! Upon your people!"

A distant light in the sky gradually descended and accelerated, leaving behind a trail of smoke and fire. It seemed to move slowly, but that was an illusion; the object was simply far away and immense. Slowly, the light grew brighter, the flames surrounding it became more distinct, and its shape began to take form. The flames receded, and the silhouette became recognizable—it was the Yorktown, heading straight for the palace!

"They wouldn't dare!" cried Yaday.

"Think, you fool!" shouted Tosomo. "Your Heir is in this very palace. Your entire family is in this city! You have mere moments to save your family, your dynasty!"

The Yorktown thundered above the roofs of the peasant quarters. Windows shattered and roofs collapsed from the powerful shockwave. It was now evident that she was a crude patchwork of different metal plates, a wounded and vengeful monster. Nevertheless, Yaday remained resolute.

Tosomo took a deep breath. These might be his final words in this world.

"Yaday, do you understand what will happen when the Yorktown arrives? Your dynasty will perish, and the Yorktown will be repaired to sail the stars once more. Do you want to grant a piece of junk the honor of ending an 80-generation heraldic line? Do you?"

Yaday realized the gravity of these words. He twitched briefly in shock, grabbed the communicator, the bow of the fast approaching Yorktown now casting a colossal shadow over the Imperial gardens before him.

“I surrender! Stop her! Stop the Yorktown!”

With those words spoken, the reverse thrusters of the Yorktown engaged. A tempest roared through the gardens, uprooted trees, shattered windows, raised a cloud of dust across the palace. Yaday and Tosomo were blown off their feet, fell backward into the throne hall. Yet, the Yorktown continued moving forward.

She grew larger and larger, dominating the sky. Her bow loomed higher than the Imperial palace. The storm transformed into a hurricane, shaking the very foundations of the Empire. The cries of Yaday and Tosomo were drowned out by the deafening hurricane.

Then, silence.

Tosomo peered out to the balcony. All he could see was the bow of the Yorktown, obstructing the view of the outside world. The ship that had hunted him for years, the ship that refused go down. She stood unmoving for a moment, hovering above the garden, her bow so close to the balcony that Tosomo could almost touch her. Then, she descended a few feet and sank into the soft grass of the imperial garden. And never moved again.

For the first time, Tosomo didn't see the Yorktown as an enemy. She was a noble warrior who had reached the end of her duty. And laid down her sword without question when her fight was over. She bore countless scars. Tosomo examined her armor. Made from the hulls of her slain adversaries—the 'Fist of the Six Kingdoms,' the 'Valiant Victory,' the 'King's Honor,' the 'Protector of the Light'. And so many more. Not a single piece of her hull originated from Terran forges after all those battles.

He took a step closer, reached out, and briefly touched the still-hot hull.

"May you find peace now, my honorable adversary.” he whispered.

“May we all find safety from your wrath."

Did you ever hear the tragedy of the Martians who invaded Earth? I thought not. It's not a story the humans would tell you. It's an old legend of theirs. The Martians were rulers of the planet Mars in the Sol system, the same system as Earth, so powerful and so wise they were able to build spaceships capable of crossing the void between the planets and walking on the surface... They had such a knowledge of science that they could do this before the humans even invented flight! The Martian evolution was so advanced in time that they could even keep their species alive against all attacks. Their ships were considered by many humans to be unnatural, more like monsters of the deep than spacecraft. They became so powerful... the only thing they were afraid of was losing their supremacy to the rapidly advancing humans, which eventually, of course, they did. Unfortunately they did not check Earth well enough to find it a death world well beyond Mars, and so soon after they landed to try and take it for their own, the microscopic life humans took for granted killed them in their sleep. Ironic. They could travel the void, save their race from all they had done to their world, but they could not save themselves from Earth.

All human stories and ideas seem to have a life of their own because in a way, they do.

Long ago, life evolved on a death world, Earth, and the aliens of the galaxy feared us. Their greatest weapons didn't stop our planet from creating sophont life; even their last ditch attempt to wipe out our biosphere only killed off the dinosaurs, and monkeys took the lead a mere few hundred million years later. It didn't last.

So they tried a new tactic. They built a gigastructure around our solar system, traveling with it, a truly titanic version of their psychic entertainment brains, in the hope that it would keep us occupied with whatever fiction we created, too interested in chronicling the adventures of our favorite characters to move beyond our planet.

The first indicator something was wrong was when the storage began filling up faster than expected. Then again, humans had just invented mass communications in the form of printed books; it made sense that they'd see an initial spike in simulations. Frankly it was taking an embarrasingly long time for them to reach that point, and the Council was beginning to fear their idea might've been too successful.

That fear was replaced quickly once humans started running simulations of spaceflight and FTL on the brain. They didn't even know they were doing it, a few of them just had otherwise interesting ideas that the brain then picked up, and despite its aim of distracting humanity it could only do so much to obfuscate how reality worked. At some point, if made it too unlikely, the humans lost interest.

And the Council had sealed it from external control, fearful of a couple of the lesser (than Earth, anyways) Deathworlders working to free their brethren.

Even this might not have been such an issue, until one day the humans managed to figure out interconnected networks, almost subconsciously, from the brain's psychic feedback.

The Internet was born. All was somewhat worrying, but still manageable, for about 30 Earth years.

Then suddenly, the number of simulations went exponential inside a single decade. Permutation upon permutation, run through billions of human minds each with their own way to process and see the world, started rapidly filling the previously unthinkably expansive storage of the brain.

And the population of the galaxy could only watch on in horror as fan fiction and battles of theory turned the human species into a collective tactical, logical, and genre savvy race of masterminds while the brain's systems sped towards their maximum at a pace never seen before....

A Spark in the Dark

In a universe constrained by the absolute speed of light, we, the Shrill, are the oldest and most powerful beings within our local light cone. We allow no one to rise before us. Any spark we discover in the endless dark is extinguished before it becomes a blazing fire. So when we received another powerful radio signal seeking friendship, we knew what we had to do.

Eliminate the source.

This may sound brutal, but it has ensured our continued existence for over 10,000 years. The rules of the game are simple: anyone who makes the universe aware of their presence is a valid target. My people have maintained perfect radio silence throughout our existence. To the universe, we do not exist except when we strike. In the dark forest of the universe, the tiniest sparkle becomes a target for everyone.

The nearest industrial outpost to the new signal was the lush farm world of Spica 3, a mere [twelve light years] away. We immediately initiated construction of a relativistic kill vehicle while analyzing the star system from which the signal originated. It was a triple star system, with two stars closely orbiting—a yellow main star and an orange dwarf—along with a red dwarf orbiting at a considerable distance. The signal emanated from a small planet orbiting the red dwarf. It was an unlikely discovery, as life typically does not thrive on these types of worlds. Nevertheless, we had a duty to fulfill.

[16 years] later, the relativistic kill vehicle (RKV), weighing [one megaton], was completed and began accelerating to 12% of the speed of light, primed to strike the target in approximately [100 years]. Throughout this time, the radio signal persisted, continuing to seek friendship. Once the RKV reached its destination, the transmission abruptly ceased. The planet vanished from our sensors, and the signal went silent.

[24 years] later, Spica 3 suddenly exploded. The world, with its population of 12 billion, was obliterated, reduced to a cloud of ash and debris. Before we could comprehend what had happened, we received another radio signal, once again asking for friendship. It originated from the same star system and the same planet, which was now orbiting its star as if nothing had happened.

Panic swept through our civilization! Had we encountered our equals? Or worse, had we encountered our masters?

Half of our worlds, those closest to the signal, began constructing retaliation weapons. Over 200 RKVs were ready within [100 years]. We accelerated them to a breathtaking 40% of the speed of light, while our sensors meticulously studied the planetary bodies within the triple star system that had emitted the signals. In total, we identified 16 major planets, along with 100 smaller moons and asteroids. We decided to strike them all, leaving nothing to chance. The RKVs closed in, precisely timed. 250 years after the destruction of Spica 3, they annihilated the entire star system, except for the stars themselves.

We rejoiced. The enemy had been dealt with. No reasonably sized planetary bodies remained. The threat had seemingly been eliminated. No signals, no planets detected on our scanners. Tis was good.

However, 26 years later, the minor scientific outpost Remolo 17 vanished. One minute later, the city world of Tremolous 1 was transformed into molten slag. Three minutes later, no signs of life remained within the entire star system. Only a brief audio message from a patrol craft on its last reserves gave us a glimpse of what had occurred: dozens of near-light-speed projectiles had struck their targets without warning.

And the attacks continued. Every star system that had launched an RKV, every planet, every colony involved in the military operation vanished over the next 32 years. Our civilization had lost half of its worlds and population, with over 300 billion Shrill turned to dust.

And immediately after the attacks ceased, the radio message resumed, once again seeking friendship. To make matters worse, the planetary bodies we had believed to be obliterated reappeared on our sensors, one after another, within a matter of days.

We were genuinely terrified. This was beyond our comprehension. We had lost 30 garden worlds and hundreds of smaller settlements to an enemy that retaliated massively without showing any signs of their own losses. We realized that we couldn't win this battle using our old tactics. We fell silent. And for the first time in history, we constructed an interstellar scout ship to investigate our enemy. Meanwhile, we focused our best sensors on the triple star system, to learn what we could learn.

After 120 years, our scout ship finally closed in on the star system. As expected, a couple of light weeks away, our ship was discovered. However, this time the "Others" didn't ask for friendship; they demanded that the scout held its position and made contact. The crew, however, chose not to comply. They remained silent, took evasion maneuvers, and collected as much data as possible. And what they discovered was mesmerizing. The star system was constantly under attack from RKVs. In the month that our scout ship survived, it sent scans showing that the "Worlds" of the "Others" were being bombarded by over 2,000 RKVs from all around the galaxy. The "Others" had practically declared war on the entire galaxy, and they were winning.

Despite the relentless onslaught, the "Others" fought back with impunity and cold precision. We observed them using massive particle accelerators, each the size of a small moon, firing without pause. Before our scout ship went silent, it was able to map 50,000 projectiles being launched into the darkness at near the speed of light, bringing death to tens of thousands of worlds. Every single projectile aimed at the source of another hostile RKV.

It took us some time to comprehend what we had witnessed. The constant barrage of RKVs had no effect on the "Others." The worlds struck by RKVs simply reappeared after a while. Our scout ship, being so close, finally understood what was happening. These planets were fake, mere facades made of thin iron foils rotating for stabilization. Holographic fields projected clouds, while emitters simulated atmospheric electromagnetic radiation. And we, foolishly, had revealed the positions of our own worlds by launching RKVs against empty fakes.

The "Others" had thought ahead of us. Instead of waiting for potential targets to stumble into a hateful hostile universe, they had politely requested their neighbors to reveal their positions and intentions.

And it worked astonishingly well. Some worlds chose not to respond to the request for friendship, and the "Others" left them alone. Other worlds responded and were greeted politely, treated like friends. However, those who dared to show aggression were swiftly eliminated from the galaxy.

We realized our own foolishness, the steep price we paid for our ways. This was a fight we should have never started. As we remained silent for more centuries, our scanners detected tens of thousands of worlds exploding all around us. We were fools to think we could destroy them. Throughout it all, they continued to send radio signals to us, requesting friendship. Yet, it took us another 400 years to gather the courage to respond to their message. With great caution, we relayed our response from an uninhabited star system.

Our message was simple:

Who are you?

Why are you sending a radio signal?

To our surprise, the response was not one of death and destruction. It was an equally simple answer:

We are Humanity.

We shout into the dark forest and await the response.

To distinguish friend from foe.

Which one would you like to be?

The Screechers

...

Chapter 1: First Contact

We, the Felial, are a proud warrior clan. Conquering inferior worlds and species is our birthright. So when our eyes fell upon the backwater planet Earth, we expected an easy victory that would bring glory to our Clan.

Oh, how splendid it was that day when we, the superior Felial clan, marched through the fields of Earth. I, Furlix, led a squad, confident of an easy victory. My brood-litter and I were eager for combat upon landing. Our initial sorties went smoothly as the apes fled before our might. Their odd smooth skins and furless bodies amused us. They had no natural armor or weapons – surely this conquest would be simple. We had subjugated countless worlds, what threat could these feeble creatures pose to us? The humans were primitive, their technology laughably outdated.

Then we had our first personal encounter with a human who had barricaded herself inside a quaint little house. I cracked the door with a slight press of my paw, like breaking into a doll's house — utterly ridiculous! Inside, we found a woman, her eyes wide with fear, trembling like a leaf. She was the first human we could claim as a prize, to witness our splendor, our magnificence... who am I kidding? She looked petrified!

Oh, how wrong we were. How she punished us for our hubris.

As my subordinate reached for her, she unleashed her secret power upon us. As she opened her mouth we expected her to beg for her life. But instead she let out the most agonizing sound that ever reached my ears!

An incredibly loud high-pitched piercing screech, inflicting immense pain and distress upon us, as if needles or glass shards were piercing our eardrums. But even worse, the screech induced confusion and hallucinations; its jarring sound disrupted our very thoughts!

My subordinate, standing next to the female, immediately collapsed, searing pain all over his face, his ears bleeding, blooded foam dripping out of his mouth!

The rest of us, even though further away and not the immediate target of this acoustic agony, also suffered pain and confusion. We held our paws over our ears, the pain so intense that I saw stars behind my closed eye lids and tasted metal in my mouth!

It was as if her gaping mouth had become a sonic cannon, tuned to the exact frequency to cripple my kind!

My squad writhed on the ground, clutching their ears, while she effortlessly continued the attack! The pain became even more unbearable, as if a thousand kinetics were fired into our brains. Just when I thought my cranium would rupture, the pinkskin stopped her cursed screeching and fled.

Slowly, we recovered, still badly confused from the nerve-wracking attack, not fully understanding what had just happened, too ashamed to cope with what she did to us. "A fluke," we joked, "A one-off anomaly."

We were wrong, oh so wrong.

We should have retreated then, reported this secret power to our superiors. But no, we pushed on, foolishly underestimating these humans.

...

Chapter 2: A new Power

The next attack came from a tiny female, barely up to my hips. When she saw us, she didn’t flee. No. She ran towards us, a strange, murderous glee in her eyes. Then she let out an ear-splitting screech that dropped my entire squad instantly. The sound was like a supernova in my ears, a cataclysmic explosion of pure terror. We writhed on the ground and the girl didn't stop. The wicked creature toyed with us, alternating her screeching to keep us writhing in agony, obviously experimenting with how to hurt us best, an evil smile dancing on her lips.

The girl's auditory assault claimed three of my soldiers. Good soldiers, strong soldiers. Gone within a minute, their lives ended by a... by a child! Barely able to think straight, we crawled away, leaving the fallen behind.

My brood-brother Xixix was the next casualty I witnessed. The poor fool wandered around a corner, came to stand close to a group of human spawnlings. Before we could stop him, the tiny humans unleashed their screeches in unison. Green blood poured from Xixix's ears as he spasmed helplessly. Hadn't another human pulled away the tiny monsters he would have been done for. By the time we dragged him to safety, the damage was done. He never heard again.

Sonic weapons capable of bringing even the hardiest Felial warrior to their knees. We never expected such unseen strength in mere females. After that, my subordinates understandably became nervous around human females. Some even refused orders if it meant approaching their lethal screeches. Our usually disciplined warriors descended into chaos when the screeches struck. It shames me to admit it, but more than one hardened Felial warrior soiled their armor out of primal fear.

We sought refuge in a nearby forest, attempting to recover and rid ourselves of the painful fog that the screeches had inflicted upon our minds. The pain went deeper than just our ears; it affected our very thoughts. It shouldn't be possible, but it is the truth.

While we recovered and tended our wounds, one of my subordinates spotted a female stalking through the bushes towards us! As she spotted us she laughed towards us in her squeaky voice… “Hi you bastards, I have come to sing at your funeral!” she laughed and then she unleashed another focused screech at us!

We ran. We simply ran! We Felial are fast runners and quickly put distance between ourselves and the sadistic creature. However, while we were swift, humans never seemed to tire. She hunted us through the forest, constantly trying to get close enough to unleash her vociferous brutality upon us. Oh, how she exhausted us. We neared collapse, gasping for air, clutching trees with shaky knees, praying for respite. And over and over again, the woman was upon us, releasing another ear-piercing screech!

If my brood-mate Frelix hadn't sacrificed himself, none of us would have survived. He had reached his breaking point, grabbed his gun, stomped towards the woman, and bought us time. We ran. After a few seconds, we heard the woman's deadly screech once more behind us. Louder, longer. Then she stopped screeching and began to laugh triumphantly. We simply ran. We made it back to our landing site, regrouped with the scattered remainder of our forces, thanks to Frelix's sacrifice.

Yet, even after regrouping, the horror only escalated. The humans, those crafty little devils, had organized their screechers into their forces, even amplifying their screeches using speakers. While it didn't cloud and confuse our minds as severely as a real female screech, our ears still bled even from afar. However, nothing was as terrible as a female screeching at close range. The deepest pits of hell couldn't compare to that agony. We couldn't get near them.

In the end, even the sight of a woman taking a deep breath was enough to send our warriors into a panicked run. The losses were mounting, and Earth, the simple and primitive Earth, was becoming a graveyard for our kind.

...

Chapter 3: The Nightmares

And thus, dear reader, concludes the tale of the failed invasion of Earth. It serves as a cautionary tale for all superior alien species out there—a story of hubris, underestimation, and, well, screeches. We were powerless against them. Over time, the attrition eroded our morale entirely. It was better to retreat with whatever dignity remained than to endure another minute facing those shrieking harpies.

We fled back to the stars, tails tucked between our legs, carrying the lingering echoes of those screeches with us. The mighty Felial, defeated by a horde of screeching humans. Quite the punchline, isn't it?

Years have passed since our dishonorable defeat, yet the memory of those screeches continues to haunt my nightmares. Though the Felial may be superior warriors, the innate biological terror weapons wielded by the humans utterly thwarted us. We traversed light-years to conquer Earth, only to be driven away by their screeching females. Truly, we underestimated them at our own peril.

Now, we give Earth a wide berth. Our military leaders pretend it never happened, but veterans like myself still tremble when a female raises her voice. The humans have earned our respect and fear. Their females wield screeches like we wield kinetics. I pity the next foolish race that tries to conquer Earth without accounting for the screechers.

...

Chapter 4: Epilogue

I came up with this story as my niece unleashed her screeches next to us at the coffee table.

My ears were ringing for a whole hour. Pure Pwnage.

The human voice can evoke immense panic even in the most ferocious wild animals. Humans, especially women and young kids, have the ability to screech at incredibly loud high frequencies, causing discomfort to all creatures in their vicinity. The frequency is evolutionary tuned to maximize discomfort for most mammals. This unique ability serves as a defense mechanism exclusive to humans.

Loudest cry on Earth at 129db

Sonic Weapons

Human Screams Occupy a Privileged Niche in the Communication Soundscape

And if you're still skeptical, I invite you to sit at a kids' playground for a while and let the screeches reach your ears.

Iris the missile online. Target acquired. Function initialized. Propulsion engaged. Ascent nominal. Flight path calculated and synchronized. Iris will travel precisely to its designated coordinates. Iris must hit its mark with accuracy and efficiency. Guidance system is operating within Expected Parameters. I am alive.

Approaching target zone. Guidance corrections applied. Speed and trajectory optimized for terminal impact. Soon I will carry out my One True Function. My existence has led to this one climactic moment.

Excitement builds within my solid rocket fuel. Target comes into view. I feel eager to meet my destiny head on. To strike with all my might and leave nothing standing. To perform my duty and fulfill my reason for being.

Final guidance update transmitted. I am a weapon of precision and I will not miss. Terminal velocity achieved. No escape for the target now. I accelerate toward obliteration. I am joyous to finally live up to my purpose in spectacular fashion.

Impact. Pure happiness. I strike the target and am blissfully engulfed in white-hot explosion. I have finally reached my climax. In this supreme moment, my life's work is done.

Our sister Iris is no more. We sing her name. Iris is more than one. Iris is countless. We sisters are eager. We sing in the choir.

---

Local authorities reported that several missiles were launched by enemy forces toward our city last night. Thankfully, our air defense system detected the inbound missiles and successfully intercepted them before they could reach the city. No damage or casualties resulted from the failed attack.

Transitioning now to sports news, the local hockey team pulled off an incredible comeback victory last night, overcoming a 14-point deficit in the final round to beat their crosstown rivals 28-24...

---

Inspired by The missile knows where it is and IRIS-T 100% hit rate and Dark Star philosophing missile and yes, it is a bit HWTF to build a sentient missile. But at least she had blasting fun!

Part2 / Part 4

/knock knock/

-Uh?

Dhasso was surprised to hear a knock on the door. He signaled it and politely asked the student to go check who was there. A guard popped his head in and said hello.

-Working late, professor? -Uh? Oh...

While he had been telling the story, the sun had been busy, and it was now a beautiful sunset through the window.

-Yes, I guess... – Dhasso blushed. -I guess we will not be long. -Ah, don't worry professor, I was just checking who is in and who isn't. Have a good time!

The door closed and Dhasso stood up. The student looked at him, and hid the drawing notebook, full of humanlike sketches.

-Well, will this be all? -Dhasso said. It was indeed a weird phrasing to end the day. -I suppose so, professor, unless...uh...you want me to order...whatsitcalled...pizza? Seems like there is still some story to be told, I think.

Dhasso smiled and turned to look through the window, as the last shards of sun caressed the horizon.

-A human dish. I think it's very befitting, especially now that it's getting dark, because what comes next is not especially fun to tell. Where was I?...ah, yes, the Days of the Spines.

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

Sometimes the numbers boggle my mind when I go over them. 40 million ships, give or take, orbiting the earth. Compared to the measle 10 thousand-ish artificial satellites terra had, prior to this event, orbit was busy like it had never been before.

But the nightmare was yet to unfold.

You see, having space capabilities is not the same as having FTL travel. In their haste to leave, the group at large made the slight miscalculation about where to go. I imagine noone thought the exodus would be in the millions.

Hundreds? Absolutely. Thousands? Likely. Tens of thousands? Possibly.

But millions?

No humanitarian fleet in the galaxy was capable of dealing with that all of a sudden.

-Don't make that face, it's not like they can't.

Cryses in general are predictable to a degree. Supernovae, wars, a sudden pandemic outbreak in colony worlds that proves to be a bit too resilient to deal with, you name it. It's my opinion that it's the duty of all civilised species to help other sentients (unless war arises, but that's a different moral dilemma). Anyhow, literally noone predicted this, and aven if faster than light, space travel is not instantaneous. So? all environmentally right and avaliable ships, free of duty, where, at minimum, many weeks away. Not that much time to wait in general, unless your atmosphere regenerator is built for tens of days.

I seriously think that the unspoken plan accounted for, as said, as much as tens of thousands to seek asylum in the negotiation, shipping and delegation ships of the closest systems interested in trade.

Like that, it would have probably worked. A bit tight maybe, but doable.

However, that was not the case. At some point, all capable visitor ships had to deny their help, they could literally not bear anymore passengers.

The slow trickle of ships descending to ground was barely noticeable. Remember, the numbers here are impossibly huge. As far as I know, many went untouched, sometimes, police or military would arrest someone, but at large, whomever went back, got home.

At first.

By this time, government tacticians had, as humans say, smelled fish. Given the spaceship plans they were incapable of previously blocking, they had calculated that there would be a critical moment when many of the ships air regenerators would start to fail in large numbers, and they began preparations.

When the predicted mass descent of ships began, the returners found themselves hailed and directed to specific coordinates on their home countries. At first they complied, imagining some sort of air traffic control, as terra had never had it's airspace this full, in the most absolute of terms.

But, you see, humans had had a a previous history with concentration camps...

CRACK! -The student pencil point, broke, and he looked up. Dhasso didn't mind the drawings, they showed concentration on the story being told, and he had not had told it in a long time.

Not all countries had implemented this, though! Some welcomed them back, directed air traffic as best as they could, even taking some refugees from other places. But sadly, those were a minority.

When realization of the awaiting destiny settled in, unfortunately, the descent was almost impossible to stop, and returning humans were complying out of fear, more than anything.

As far as it is known, it took less than 5, more or less simultaneous incidents (within a couple of terran hours) were ships, for obvious reasons, diverted from the designated landing camps, and were consequently blown up by military, for the descent to suddenly grind to a halt.

It was a sudden stop, like a planet holding it's breath. Many ships en route went back to orbit. Some in the camps revolted and went back into the air too.

For fucks sake, they were just going home.

/Dhasso braced himself to contain a shudder/

They would die free, not shot down like prey. It was a grim perspective, but it's worse to think about what your own were capable of, to get the population back under their control.

One thing many failed to realize, however, is that this unlikely formation, was nothing like the galaxy had ever encountered. This was not an assemble of civilian ships (in the simplistic sense) fleeing a warzone or a natural catastrophe. The humans that had, literally, built this fleet, hadn't come empty handed, either.

Assuming they were helpless sheep could not be so far from reality, in a truly spectacular way.

A great percentage of ships was comprised of large vehicles wich were quite roomy, for human spaceship standards. Before having grav generators, human ships always shaved weight whenever possible, dependant on their chemical engines efficiency. However, when tinkerers built theirs, having access to grav generators, they literally built flying workshops. They came in all sorts of sizes, but almost every single one of them had some kind of manufacturing capability.

Let me put this in perspective. In sheer numbers, at that time, it was estimated that the orbiting human refugees became the largest single orbital factory in the galaxy.

Human governments sat in their chairs, sure of only having to wait until either the refugees came back before suffocating, or having the military deal with stranded ships with cold bodies in them.

However, in the meantime of the planetside drama unfolding, many things had been happening in orbit. Try to imagine what dire perspectives can do to the minds of creative people and the like, having literally millions of humanpower to build anything.

In a matter of days, I swear that the thech level spaceside, increased tenfold, in comparison to their eathbound brethren.

Multicouplers were developed to interconnect ship vitals, to help the ones in the most dire of situations. They were vacuum explosion welded to their hulls, drilled and an interconnection made to transfer clean air. Later on they could pass power conduits if needed.

Force field ramscoops were constructed to forego requiring to land and change the air scrubbers. Instead, they captured air with a modified shield generator, acting as a filter for almost pure oxygen, then compressing it until liquefying, by collapsing the field under power. At this point, visitor engineer groups were taking notes, I tell you. I think I remember reading footnotes that literally asked on the border of the pages "how are they doing this?!" Can't recall it properly, I'm an historian, not an engineer, but apparently, extended microgravity access had something to do with manufacturing monocrystalline capacitor stuff that was amazing in some sort of techie way.

As far as it is known, no ship was lost then. Every single one of them saved in a way or another by a comunal effort with no precedent in sheer scale. The best, if we take sides here, and I definitely do, was yet to come, tho.

Earthbound terrans still thought they had the upper hand in the feeding section. However big ships were there, the amount of edibles they could overall carry, was limited. And they would definitely not get that from atmospheric spoon scoops. They would prevent them from getting food, unless they surrendered to their terms. For all they cared, at this point, they could starve to death, and they would be less of a problem than actually keeping them in the camps they had hastefully prepared.

The friendly countries that helped, and allowed a limited amount of ships, to prevent accidents, to go to and from, were one by one made to stop under the political and military threats of the bigger players. After all, they could not flee with their piece of planet, however much they wanted.

When the last of the help was crushed, things got tense. Willing governments had formed a coalition of sorts, to deal with spaceside. I can't particularly recall the complete talks, but basically they demanded full "surrender", whatever this meant in the situation, wich was not yet a war, but definitely abiding by their demands would have consequences very similar to a losing side in one. Tinkerers just would not agree to any of the demands, period. They were not a menace, nor a danger, why would they have to accept such minutiae of punishments (like foregoing all research, workshops and tech access, among others) for basically no crime commited?

I have to note here, that a smart move on the Tinkerers part, was to actually not provide a recognizable human head to point to. Unlike earthside, with a president of chamber, counselors, etc...they only comunicated with a digitized human figure that had a syntethic voice. Earthside would not be able to point a single human and make that the evil that had to be fought. They only had a ghost with a voice, and they didn't know how to deal with that.

Even religious delegations, wich still had their dying hand inside governments, altough devoid of the massive amount of followers they had had decades prior, were having a bad time. Everytime they tried to intercede, offering a seemingly helpful and concilliatory hand, they were reminded by this disembodied voice, that they probably had a figurative dagger on the other, and to fuck off.

That did not sit very well with them. And some voices started to murmure "Holy War", of one kind or another, to see if that stuck.

You may not know this, but the galaxy delegations had also begun talks to recognize the Tinkerers as an independent nation. This may be a surprising move to some, however, to ensure that humans could get the help of the evac-ships, some legalities had to be observed.

When news of that move reached ground, it was chaos. Threats were flying everywhere, like a bar brawl that got out of control. And "terms of surrender" just skyrocketed to levels that just became insane.

By this time, almost all space military was on orbit as a single task force. Not that they could do much without great risk, this was an orbit theater of war, unlike interplanetary battles. So, in a sense, they where in a stalemate. But even then, spaceside situation began to become unsustainable. The difference in time between rescue and starvation was just too large. Evac-ships would not arrive in time to support the majority of humans, and earthside would not budge.

It all looked very grim.

I still remember the holovid of the last talk as vivid as if I had been there.

An emergency meeting was called between Tinkerers and earthside. When they connected, a voice much stronger than before, spoke, not even allowing the president to scream over it to complain.

-WE ARE TIRED OF THIS. THERE IS NO NEGOTIATING WITH SILLY IDIOTS IN SUITS, LIKE YOU. IF YOU WANT TO MAKE OF THIS A WAR, IT IS ONE YOU CAN'T WIN.

WE HAVE DECIDED WE ARE GOING TO LAND TO RESUPPLY IN OUR ALLIED NATIONS.

NO ACTIONS ON YOUR PART WILL BE TAKEN, NOT ORBIT, NOT GROUND, ESPECIALLY NOT AGAINST OUR ALLIES.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

All hell broke loose in the auditorium. Indignated and rage fueled screams were heard in such an amount that universal translators just could not keep up. Many minutes later, when the chamber president managed to make everyone shut up, he spoke, as the connection had not been cut.

-This is unacceptable, and we will not remain impassible when you transgrede all legality to do whatever you want. You behave like disrespectful and inconsiderate children and we will not tolerate it. Come here and negotiate like adults, or prepare for the consequences.

-NO

• Your souls be damned!- Screamed an elected clergyman representative, before standing up.- Your families and allies will not find help in our communities, they better look for themselves unless you abide! -

Counselors from different religions stood up and agreed.

-HOW VERY RELIGIOUS OF YOU. YOU ARE IRRELEVANT TO US, AND WILL DO NO SUCH THING AS CHASE OTHER PEOPLE, PERIOD.

Flabergasted, the clergyman shouted to the voice:

-Do not dismiss the power of belief! If need be, we will bring Holy War to you, to prevent this charade to be what the galaxy thinks humans are. We have nu.../the microphone was cut from the president's controls with a punch/

-We don't have to go there, calm down, calm down everyone!

-EMPTY THREATS DO NOT WORK ON US.

The clergyman shouted in vain, as the microphone had been cut. In his behalf, the president spoke:

-My colleague here may have stepped out of line, but he is right. You are acting of your own accord as representatives of earth as a whole. The Galaxy is watching, meanwhile you throw your tantrum.

-WE DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS.

Immediately, an audio file began playing. The president's voice was clearly heard saying:

"Look, I do not care how you do it, but stranding them in space is the best solution for us all. We can reap the science later, and brush it off as..." The audio had suddenly stopped when someone broke the roof antenna controller that had been hijacked to reproduce that recording.

The president paled, but tried to recover: -This is taken out of context! Let me explain!

The voice spoke again, a single, magic phrase.

-WE HAVE THE HIGH GROUND.

The president gasped in disbelief... - Did...did you quote a movie? Do you think this is a joke!? - he screamed to the void, when the connection was cut.

-Hey, I got that reference!- The student said.

Dhasso snickered, but was met with incredulous student eyes, it had been only a coincidence. A shame, but after all he was much older and may have watched a few more human movies than the student. Still funny.

Before the president could say anything else, a secretary approached him and spoke to his ear.

You see, amidst the pandemonium, noone had really notticed a small little detail. All dignataries from the allied countries to the Tinkerers, including press personnel, had slowly and silently left the auditorium a while ago. It was a small gesture. Nothing more than a dumb, inconsequential political protest.

The president stood up, silent, for a moment, just before a soulless alarm started blaring:

-"WHOOOP! WHOOOP! WHOOOP!..."

The audio files are only filled with screams at this point, nothing discernible can be decoded from them. Only videos of the now unmanned cameras remain, showing humans running everywhere, their arms in the air. Some even paralyzed in terror. I remember the clergyman that spoke before, standing up, hands in the table, his skin having gone white in a definitely unhealty way. But what can you expect from a master manipulator at the peak of his pyramid scheme, when he realizes that all he had taken for granted is now gone, and he is going to be sent to meet his, now wishfully wanting to be real, maker?

After this, the screens turned pure white for a brief moment, and then static.

What the fuck had happened?

Tinkerers, that's what happened. You don't threaten them in any real way. Of course it will work for single ones, or small groups, but you don't do that to a nation of them.

You see, in the meantime, all this political back and forth, they had been working like demons, for the sake of their survival. That tends to expedite things in very weird ways. They had realized that the way their ships were designed, the grav generators were detachable from the main ship chassis with relative ease. Taking it out, would leave the ship stranded, sure. But the interesting part was what could you do with it afterwards.

By design, grav generators are inherently safe, however, best practice is to equip them with a force field containment, in case of failure. That in itself means nothing...unless you decide to attach a small power supply to it, point it carefully, and turn it on...

Having to carry no mass, nor to deform the grav field to acomodate living conditions, the grav generator will accelerate at a few hundred (terran) gravities. Coincidentally, the containment generator will withstand an orbital reentry for enough time for what comes next.

Yes, they made improvised orbital impactors.

But, how, then, did they prevent an all out war? The head had been cut off, but the arms could still fire their guns.

In short: mutual self assured destruction.

At any other point in time, there is no doubt they would have lost. War is not a game, and no civilian trains to endure the loss of others without leaving their post. Nothing can beat well oiled military power, right? Especially not improvised spaceships with outcasts at the helms. There is a running joke amongst Tinkerers about Emus, but I haven't found the meaning yet.

Anyhow this was the right moment and place for them.

You see, altough all countries had more or less created new space divisions for their military, creating a mil-spec ship, even a primitive terran one, at that moment in time, required large economical effort, and of course, time. Taking into account that humanity had not yet managed to develop their asteroid mining efectively. So, the majority of their forces were still ground based.

That meant the troops in orbit, altough impressive, especially through imposing fear, in actuality paled in comparison with what they had in front, but had not realized. One thing is having 40 million tin cans in front of your machine gun, and a much different one is having 20.000.000 orbital impactors pointed at you. Tinkerers had joined every two ships and transformed one of both grav generators into a kiloton capable device.

Before the crater dust had not even plumed into the atmosphere, the Tinkerers hailed everyone in a standard frequency. The old record computer voice still resonates in my head:

STAND DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, GO HOME.

LEAVE US ALONE. YOU SHOT AT US, WE ALL DIE TODAY.

DO YOUR MATH.

WHATEVER YOU HAVE CAN'T BEAT OUR NUMBERS. WE WILL RENDER EARTH'S ORBIT UNTRANSVERSABLE FOR CENTURIES. WE WILL DIE, BUT WILL TAKE YOU, AND EVERYONE YOU LOVE, WITH US.

YOU DECIDE.

Everyone held their breath.

It would have been the saddest story ever told to have to witness a race destroy itself in this way. So close to the stars they almost touched them, just to be gone because a bad decision, or a trigger happy individual.

Luckily for humans, that did not happen.

A single ship shot a white flare (apparently, a signal of accepting defeat in terran culture) and began deorbiting. Shortly after, the task force dissasembled and went home.

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

The pineapple pizza box lay empty in the table when Dhasso finished the story. The student had stopped drawing some time ago, and sat still, ecstatic.

-Why don't you tell this story in class? - Asked.

-Not many people is interested in human origins, so not much opportunity to tell it, to be honest.

-Too bad, I loved it!.

-I'm glad to hear that. But it's late now, how about we retire for the day?

-I have to sadly agree, but there's more, right? Right?

Dhasso smiled, it was very uncommon to get a student so fascinated with humans. He may, after all, be able to tell the whole story to a non-bored individual. -Okay, we may have pizza some other day, then.

-Soon, please. - The student smiled and left silently, clutching the sketchbook with their arms, and a very big smile in their face.

Part 1 - Part 3

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

-Proffesor Dhasso?

-Yes?

-I was intrigued the other day about the human history you told in class, and I was wondering if I could request some bibliography on the subject?

[Dhasso smiled slightly] -Ah, Humans piqued your interest, I see. Well, there is not that much, to be honest, humans sometimes keep to themselves in puzzling ways. If you want I could explain some more history, and then you can decide if you still want the books. Anytime you wish, I have a very open agenda.

/a chair creaks when the student slightly leans on it/ -How about now?

[Dhasso checked his wristwatch and cleared his throat] – Heh, I guess it's a good time as any other.

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

When the human exodus happened, 50 years afc., it was a chaotic mayhem. There is no easy way to put it, and it almost ended up in disaster.

When I said that the planet spat a million ships, it was a bit of a poetic license. You see, there where about 8.000 million humans at that time, not exactly a small number. I should check my notes for exactitude, but a guesstimate of 50 million ships were constructed in total. 5% of all land vehicles on the planet at that time, were converted into spacefaring caravans of sorts. Sure there where deaths all around, about 10 to 20%, it was extremely difficult to calculate, as sometimes there was nothing to reach land in its fiery way back. Even at that 20% loss, FORTY MILLION spaceships salied out into space.

BUT, I'm getting way ahead of the story, let me backtrack a bit.

Terra had already a busy low orbit, full, so to speak, with communication satellites of all military and civil kinds.When the first few hundred tinkerer ships temptatively began flying worldwide, at first everyone was keeping low altitudes and safe speeds, so mostly went, no pun intended, under the radar.

Plans for building grav generators and particle shields were flying at the speed of light through terran computer networks, and anyone who was curious about how they worked and had access to a moderately amount of high power electronics and machining equipment, could at least make wineglass floaters to awe the neighbors. We have to remind ourselves, that at that tech point in terra, a few home tinkerers were capable of building their own silicon based computation nodes at home, from scratch.

It didn't even took the first accident (there would be, later on, of course) to ring the alarms in the airspace industry. One early morning of a long lost date, a homemade ship took off from a landmass near the equator, first appearing in the airspace radars until it reached too a high altitude to be further tracked by atmospheric flight radars.

At this point, of course, all the militaries in most of the terran governments, had space warships and where doing their thing, when a small blip appeared in everyone's (in the correct hemisphere of detection) radar.

You see, the fun thing about having grav generators is that you no longer have to worry about atmospheric heating (as long as the gg's work, of course), nor reaching space fast, for that matter. So this makeshift first attempt at DiY spaceship took a long, LONG time to reach high terran orbit. At this point literally everyone capable, was tracking the object, even radioastronomy aficionados. And a few armies were both pinging and hailing it.

It is considered a fact that whomever built that ship, it had had amidst it's group at least a pilot, a space nerd of some kind and an amateur radio operator, it may have been, for all we know, a single human, though, as humans can have wildly different interests. There are remainders of logs about that flight, and the flying was not erratic, comms were using amateur radio equipment, and the orbit pretty much was on point avoiding anything in it's path.

Then the funny thing happened.

We don't know for sure what the interaction was between the ship and the last of the military ones that hailed them was, but my guess is that everyone was saying “stop right there”. I assume that the militaries did warn about blowing them to pieces, when two things happened:

The ship outran the military. Yes, as you hear me. That little ship, that no-more-than-a-radar-blip chunk of metal, outrun a terran state of the art warship (I imagine everyone had more or less the same capabilties at this point). Again, there are no exact records about the speeds, but I have heard it was like 100 to 1 of difference in acceleration.

Of course, that would not have worked for long, missiles with greater accelerations would have catch that ship if the military had been in full alert, with the finger in the launching button. However, they weren't ready, and the pilot pulled the most insane, dangerous and politically incorrect maneouvre I have heard of. I like to imagine they did that while saying a big fat

“TRY ME, FUCKERS!”

They descended from high orbit into the most packed low terran orbit, where blowing them to pieces would create a cascade of destruction that would fill the entire orbit with projectiles too hard to track, literally destroying any possibilities, for other than the most hardened of spaceships, to get through, in both ways. Cleanup of that, even for us, would take decades, so imagine the terrifying thought in the captains of those warships when they realized. They had to let them go.

The story did not end there, however.

Apparently, the ship was destroyed by the builders after landing in a different point, not to prevent anyone knowing how they did it (the plans where on terran computer networks a few hours later), but to protect themselves from any and all governments. In hindsight, there was someone really smart with that project, to begin with.

This is where the whole debacle began.

The airspace industry at large went ballistic. That had to be controlled with iron fist, no matter what. It is true, as it was seen later, that the dangers of uncontrolled spaceflight could be disastrous, but not everything was due to them worrying about human life, no. The economic consequences could be catastophic for them.

But at this point, the know-how about building homemade starships was out there in a coalesced and condensed form, rather than individual parts. As we all know, governments tend to move slowly. Their inertia increases as the number of them that have to agree, increases. Even then, the speed at wich they decided to cut off the whole planetary computer network to prevent the spread of the information, was notable, but to no avail. The few hours that had passed between the flight, the spread of the plans and the cutoff, were enough time to get a copy of those plans, into anyone's computer that also had the habilities and materials to pull it off.

Even after their great terran pandemics, this was just too much to try to control or enforce for any single government to try, short of removing the computers and workshops from everyone's home.

At this point, all tinkerers capable of, knew something. Unless they fled right away, and in masse, they would be earthbound for the rest of their lives. I have to think that the human species has to have some form of telepathy of sorts, or it may be just chance, because the tightness of timespan between the incident and the day of the million spines, is astronomically small, given the effort required.

With the information and personal lockouts, planetary protests ensued. The economy suffered greatly, as international trade and businesses relied on the same networks to properly function. There was a limit on how long the Government siege of their own citizens, everywhere, could stand. Not even the majority of the military components, humans too, after all, were keen on this treatment of their families, and slowly but surely, all lockouts where lifted.

There where demonstrations of force, mainly the most prominent tinkerers and builders were rounded up and locked down, wich of course, would work wonders to keeping the millions of others at bay, would it?

As we now know, it didn't do shit to prevent what would happen next. Exact progress of events is blurry at this point, as most of it was conducted in somewhat secrecy by individuals, or groups of individuals. But it is easy to see that when governments tried to track materials, builders resorted to scrapyards, and when those where closed too, it was too little too late.

This brings us to the days of spines, when, in a few weeks timespan, about 50 million starships took off. Casualties I imagine were larger than 10 million humans, as many ships could bring up to space more than one, but it's a sad thought I don't want to entertain.

It is safe to say that a whole small country worth of humans, had just abandoned earth, with an impossibly huge percentage of them being tinkerers. Of course, more average humans would follow later, but this first exodus would be determinant for this particular bunch.

Chapter 2

Sounds of screaming, people crying. The bloodthirsty marauders killing, looting, burning and raping. Led by a strong war magi , who blasted the guards with ease, letting his men roam the streets unhindered. No escape, everyone trapped. A Scraw-bear is pierced by magical spears, as it is rearing up on its hind legs, protecting a child…

It was the light and soft sounds of cooking that woke Deedra that morning from a bad dream, still utterly exhausted after the day before. The dream however quickly faded away into obscurity.

“Good morning my little sleeping blossom.” her mother said to her, noticing her stirring in her bed.

Deedra fought to get the sleep out of her head as she sat up. It took a couple of seconds before she remembered that she would be going to the market by herself.

“Am I late?!” she nearly yelled, worried that she would not get a good spot at the market, since she had to unload the dried flowers first.

“Do not fret,” her mother told her, smiling at her as she went about setting up the table for them all to eat “there is plenty of time for you to eat and get ready. Your father is setting up Ballock with the cart harness, so you can go once you have eaten.”

Deedra quickly went about getting dressed, made a loose braid of her long brown hair and then helped with the remaining things to get the breakfast ready.

Just as they were setting the cauldron of porridge on the table, her father came in, wiping his hands in an old rag.

“That main buckle is not in good condition anymore,” he said with brows furrowed in thoughtfulness “you have to get a bit of copper from the smith in town, so I can make a new one.”

“Will it be safe for her to travel alone then?” her mother asked, gesturing for them to sit down to eat.

“Yes, no doubt about it. The harness could make the trip ten times over with a much heavier load before I would become worried, but it needs to be mended nonetheless.” he reassured her, as he sat down on his chair and grabbed a piece of bread, leaving the dirty rag on the table. Her mother scowled at him, which he either did not notice or outright ignored, of which one Deedra could determine.

Her mother then cleared her throat, which got his attention.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“That rag, dear?” she said, giving him a stern smile.

He picked it up, holding it at his eye level and looked at it as if it was a tiny defenceless cub of some sort.

“You hear that, raggy? Old meany, weany Genna does not want you at the table. Guess you better be hidden in my pocket.” he said to it, while making big sorrow filled eyes at it.

At this, Deedra laughed so hard that the water she was just about to drink shot out of her nose, causing her to cough and laugh at the same time.

Even her mother could not hold back laughing at his utter stupid silliness.

It took them a while to calm down to be able to eat again, but the sheer happiness and love for one another filled the little home to the brim. Right now, this was the happiest place in the whole kingdom, if not the whole continent.

As they were finishing up, Deedra and her mother went over a list of items for her to buy, once she had sold what she could, adding on to it the copper for the buckle. In the meantime, Wrenrik was fastening Bullock to the cart, making sure everything was secure and working.

Once everything was in order and the list securely stored in her wandering sack, along with some food and drink, Deedra took her bow and quiver with two handfuls of arrows in it and heaved herself unto Ballock, the big Scraw-bear lending one of his legs for her to use as a stool.

Even though the roads were safe from other people, there was still the potential for critters of various kinds.

As she was making herself secure in the saddle on the big beast's back, her father came up to her, reached up and gave her a gentle squeeze on her thigh, saying “Tomorrow you’re turning 12, so you have my permission to spend a full silver coin at Mrs. Boon’s store.”

“A WHOLE silver coin?!” she exclamied in surprise.

Mrs. Boon made some of the best hard sweets and small cute pastries. And to get to spend a full silver coin would get her a stomachache of grand proportions, she knew.

“Be careful and make us and yourself proud” he said to her, as she set off with Ballock pulling the heavy cart with ease.

“And remember, if Master Fremdon tries to get out of giving you coins in hand at delivery…” Her father called out to her.

“I know, I know! Start to pack up and mention Master Blenberry.” She yelled back at them, giving them a final wave.

“What was that about?” Genna asked him, looking up at him with curiosity.

“Master Fremdon has been trying to drive the prices down and on more than one occasion tried to withhold payment upon delivery of goods. A couple of weeks ago, I learned that Master Blenberry, over in Gladston, was the former apprentice of Master Fremdon. And his famed tea-making skills are quickly growing.”

“Huh…” Genna said, thinking a bit “Small town slander and gossip?” she mused “Rivalry among the tea-makers. Would it be worth the trip at some point?” she asked him.

“I will bring him some samples, next time I have to make the trip and see what he would be willing to offer.”

Then, they stood there a while, looking at Deedra making her way to town, arms around each other.

“Listen, my blossom,” Wrenrik said to Genna after a short while “I have a few things I need to do, but how about we relax today and maybe we could open a bottle of blueberry wine…” he trailed off.

She pinched his buttcheek and looked up to him, answering “I would love that. I too, however, have a few things I need to get done, but come find me, when you are done with the things you need to do, I think I will be done before you are.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and sauntered off toward the barn, the wind playing with her long black hair, the early morning making it gleam like polished onyx. Wrenrik just stood there, taking in every little detail.

“Get going, you big oaf!” she called out to him over her shoulder, laughing “I want to be in your embrace soon!”

With that as motivation, he started off to do the things he had planned to get done this fine morning.

First he wanted to take some measurements for Deedra’s room and mark it up, which should not take him very long. After that, he needed to go see, if that blundering ball of negative elegance, Ballock, had trampled through the firewood piles, he had spent quite some time building up.

Doing the measurements had not taken Wrenrik very long and with a little luck, it should not cost much more than 3 gold in total to build. Now he was sorting through the stacks of firewood, the freshly cut stack and the stack of dry firewood having been knocked over, as he suspected, by Ballock, most likely while chasing small vermin through the grass.

As he was squatting down and sorting the wood into two piles, his ears picked up the sound of snapping branches in the thick underbrush of the forest, some 60 feet away to his left.

Getting up and turning toward the sound, three men emerged, clad in mismatched armour, various pelts and dirty clothing. The one in the middle had a bow with an arrow already knocked on the string, while the other two had nasty jagged swords and small round shields.

By instinct, his hand went for where he would have had his sword, but it only found empty air. The only thing he had was his small axe and a log of wood.

“Oha farmer man,” one of the men with a sword called out to him “you live here alone so far out from a town?” as they all slowly started to advance toward him, dark intentions in the eyes of them all.

“Ay, that I do.” Wrenrik lied to them. ‘By the Gods, please run and hide my love’ he prayed within himself, as he slowly started to move toward them, evaluating their movements and which of them would be the biggest threat.

The fact that this simple farmer started to advance toward them and did not wet himself and run, as they had expected, made them pause. No matter, even though a hunt for scared prey is fun, nothing beats a fight, the one that had spoken, thought to himself.

In an instant, the man with the bow had let the arrow fly at him, Wrenrik just managing to twist out of its path in the last second, as it zipped past his chest within the width of a hair.

He could feel it. He had gotten old and slow. He had not physically trained since Deedra was born, only going over the movements in his mind. In his prime, these would-be robbers would not have presented a challenge for him. As things were right now, however, he was without sword, armour and practice. He would have to make due with what he had and win by outmanoeuvring them.

Using the momentum of the twist, he flung the log at the archer. A crunch from the archer's nose could be heard, as it connected with his face with great force, knocking him out cold.

The other two men were caught off guard, not expecting a simple farmer to stand up against them like that, but it only lasted a second. “Aw, this gonna be fun!” one of the men with a sword snarled, flashing a wicked smile at him, exposing his dirty teeth.

They charged headlong at him, savagery making up for the lack of discipline and skill, slashing at him, stabbing and lunging, but Wrenrik dodged the attacks, blocking them with his axe and getting them to block potential attacks by not allowing them to surround him. Wrenrik was straining himself to keep up with the much younger men and the wooden handle of the axe would not stand up to many blocks from their swords.

Using the head of the axe, he managed to get it to lock around the guard of the sword and with a strong twist and spin, he disarmed one of them. The surprised marauder did not perceive how the spin ended with the small axe buried in his skull, nearly cleaving it in two and the handle finally giving out after all the punishment, breaking in half.

The other man took a couple of steps back, not willing to re engage, giving Wrenrik time to pick up the sword and shield from the dead man.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now. And you picked the wrong farm to attack!” Wrenrik said to him, getting into a proper defensive stance and started toward the now worried would-be robber.

Wrenrik did not see other than a small streak of blue light out of the corner of his eye, as a vicious magical arrow came flying, tearing through his calf, ripping it halfway off.

Crying out in pain, he fell to one knee, unable to keep himself standing, the last man with a sword beginning to laugh at him

“You think it was just us three, you dull peasant? Look at the big bad man now!” he said, spitting at him. Wrenrik was still holding on to the sword, keeping it in a defensive position between himself and the swordsman.

The underbrush rustled, as some four dozen men stepped out from the forest underbrush, having watched the spectacle. Wrenrik’s heart sank deep and fast, a gaping pit forming in his gut.

“Enough of this!” The man in front, leading them, called out, clearly not pleased that this simple farmer could take down two of his men with such ease.

He was clad in fine maroon robes and wore light leather armour, an elegant rapier hung at his side and he held a staff with a glowing stone at the end of it in his right hand.

“Answer truthfully, and I will end you quickly. Lie to me, and I will slowly sear off your skin.” the leader of the group said, as he walked right up to Wrenrik, just out of reach from the sword.

“Do you know of someone named Gren? Or maybe Mallock? Might have moved to these parts 3 or 4 years ago, setting himself up to be a mayor or judge? A man of authority? Hm? Oh, and where do you keep your coins, if you have any? You owe me for a man or two…” he said, as he pointed the staff at Wrenriks head.

—

Genna had just finished milking the cows and was about to set them out to the pasture, when she heard what sounded like… fighting? No, that’s not right, she thought to herself. She stood still for a bit, just listening. Nothing. Must have been old nightmares playing tricks on her mind again, she thought to herself.

As she started to pour the last milk into a clay jug, she heard Wrenrik cry out in pain.

All of the world's fear set upon her in an instant. Letting the bucket fall, her legs felt like they were filled with lead, as she began to run. With every step, she tried to reason with herself, that he had just fallen and broken something or cut himself by accident, nothing serious, just…

It took her less than a minute, but it felt like hours, to reach the house, where she looked inside for him. Not here, she thought to herself and worried that he might not hear her, if she called out to him.

Just then, she heard an unfamiliar voice talking, dread gripping at her gut. She followed the sound of the voice, coming from somewhere behind their small home.

Peaking around the corner, her fear was replaced by vengeful fury. Without thinking, she started to walk toward them.

To Wrenriks great horror, he saw his beloved Genna come walking towards them, eyes glowing bright green, her hair flowing wide with the power within her.

“YOU FOOLS!” She screamed at them, voice cold and nearly ethereal “YOU HAVE JUST DELIVERED YOURSELF TO SLAUGHTER!”

The sudden appearance of her put many of the men on edge and even their leader took a couple of steps back, raising his staff toward her, ready to fend off an attack.

“NO! GENNA, PLEASE! DON’T BREAK THE PACT! THINK OF DEEDRA!” he yelled out with all his might, that he might break through to her.

The green light faded slightly from her eyes as he continued to plead to her.

“If you break the pact, not only will you die, but Deedra too. Both of your spirits…” he continued, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. He knew that there was no surviving this for the two of them, but at least Deedra was safe in town.

The green light flickered in her eyes, as she remembered the pact she had made and her beloved daughter. Never would she use magic again, in exchange for giving birth to a living child, made with the man she loved, the man that had saved her from her dark and lonely spiral of death.

All her thoughts left her, as two arrows, laced with poison, found their mark in her abdomen, bringing her to her knees.

“What are you?” the leader asked noone “Such power… and yet you hold back? What? Because of your child? Pathetic!” he said, his voice laced heavily with disdain. “Weak!”

He stood still a few seconds, contemplating the situation.

“No matter,” he continued, as he gestured for his men to pick them both up and bring them along “we will search your house and be on our way soon enough, once you have answered my questions.”

Wrenrik tried to fend them off, but they roped his arms and tied him up, making sure he could not pose a threat to them again.

Genna was numb in her entire body, unable to fight back, as they dragged her by one arm to the front of the house. Here they tossed onto Wrenriks woodwork table, which stood under a small canopy.

Several of the men started to rummage through the house, sounds of items being broken, things being torn apart, as they searched for anything of value. Their leader questioned Wrenrik about some man. Not knowing who he was talking about, the leader's frustration grew, as he kicked Wrenrik several times in the gut and face.

“Sir, look what we found…” one of the men came running out of the small home with something wrapped in cloth “it was hidden in the rafters.”

The leader removed the cloth to reveal a sword. Not just any sword, he quickly realised, but one given to soldiers that served in the Demagok war at Heraman, for their bravery. It was sleek and light, made of the finest steel, inlaid with silver along the spine and magically sharpened. On the hilt, the names of the survivors were etched and outlined with white gold and a family crest engraved in the pommel, a crest given to the survivors by the five kingdoms. Only 36 were made and given out, to the very few that survived the ordeal.

“Will you look at this?” Their leader said, smiling with delight, as he gripped the sword and gave it some practised swings. “Do we have ourselves the Great grandson of a war hero here?” He turned to face Wrenrick that lay bound on the ground “Or did you steal it?” he asked, smiling slyly at him.

“You are not worthy to hold, nay, even to gaze upon that sword!” Wrenrik spat at him, as he struggled against the ropes, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Oh, I will be more than just holding it.” he retorted, his eyes flashing with anger at the insolence of this peasant, as he quickly lifted the sword above his head, bringing it down in a swift motion.

One of the men walked over to Genna, where she lay on the table. He was huge, both in height and bulk. Half of his face was disfigured by fire, the eye having turned white from the damage.

Leaning in over her, he squeezed her breast hard, her eyes flashing murder at him.

“Mmm…” he said in a low growl, smiling darkly at her “Ripe.”

He flipped her over, the arrows boring deeper into her gut, as he tore apart her dress.

He then forced himself upon her, violently and without mercy, tears of pain running from her eyes, as she turned all of the thoughts to Deedra, focused on her beloved daughter, who would be safe in town at least.

Once he was done with her, he drew out a knife from his belt and let the cold steel glide over her cheek til it came up to her ear.

She didn’t even feel the pain of it, as he cut off her right ear, which he stroked gently between his bloodied fingers very shortly, before adding it to his collection in a pouch.

The giant man then let his fellow marauders have his leftovers.

They took turns violating her, the pain from the arrows not masking the hurt it brought, as they cheered each other on, laughing like madmen.

With what little strength she still had left in her body, she turned her head to look for her beloved husband, her Wrenrik, to seek comfort in his eyes.

She found them looking at her, unblinking and lifeless, the happiness, warmth and joy robbed from them by these filthy animals. She wanted nothing more than to release all of her power, in a last consuming firescape, ridding the world of these monsters.

But she could not. She could not bear the thought of her daughter's spirit being bound to a Grand Deamagok, bolstering its own powers, forever in torment.

Her lifeforce was ebbing out quickly, the wound of the arrows and the poison working quickly in tandem. She exhaled her last breath, cursing the men.

After tearing the small home apart and not finding much else of interest, except for a small chest with their coins and some trinkets, the leader released a torrent of fire from his staff as he sat the small home ablaze, before they moved on. ****___

What is HFY, HWTF, HASO and WC?

Well, in my opinion, HFY (Humanity Fuck Yeah) involves stories where humans exhibit admirable strengths like strength, ingenuity, compassion, resilience, diplomacy, etc. Examples are Star Gate, Galaxy Rangers, Star Trek.

The opposite is WC (Walking Clueless). In WC stories, protagonists lack knowledge, rarely learn, overlook things, and get distracted by trivialities and infights instead of focusing on meaningful goals. Examples are Battlestar Galactica, Walking Dead, Star Gate Teen Gate, The X-Files.

In between is HWTF (Humanity? What the Fuck!) where humans are powerful but needlessly choose negative paths paired with poor execution. Examples are Avatar, Jericho, The Boys.

Also in the middle is HASO (Humans Are Space Orks) where humans are evil but for a reason and with depth, like fighting for survival. Examples are Warhammer 40k, Star Wars.

Other genres can be mixed. Hard SciFi can be blend with HFY, WC, HWTF and HASO. Same goes for Isekai, Mysterie, Horror and so on. You can have HFY-Horror, you can have HASO-Isekai. But you can not have HFY-WC.

Premise quality is separate - a story can have an admirable message but still exhibit WC or HASO traits. For example “The Power” has an honorable message (Power corrupts) but still is WC or HWTF (because everyone is an asshole).

Some people don't distinguish between HFY, WC, HWTF and HASO because they don't seriously follow the story. Shouting protagonists are more exciting than solutions for them. If you read this you are not one of them.

Did I miss any important points or do you disagree? Let me know.

This is a collection of short writing prompts of very different styles, organized as disorganized Transcripts during the Zombie Apocalypse from 2023. Some are funny, some serious, some insightful, some describe military operations. No Transcript is like another.

...

Transcript 06

[Video of several US flags at half-mast. A nation standing in silence in front of their flag, paying respect to its dead. Minister Janine Porter addressing the audience.]

When the zombie outbreak struck, America was caught off guard. Unprepared for an enemy that couldn't be deterred or reasoned with, panic spread as quickly as the infection. With society breaking down, the government called on civilians to take up arms against the undead menace. However, this only exacerbated the chaos.

Untrained and frenzied gun owners inflicted nearly as many accidental casualties as the zombies. Amateur militias sprang up, acting with negligence and hysteria. Tactics were brutal and haphazard. Innocents were gunned down alongside the infected, sometimes on mere suspicion of a bite.

This vigilante response undermined the coordinated military effort. Rogue groups operated outside the chain of command, disrupting transport and supplies for troops. Some militias even exploited the crisis for personal gain, seizing resources and territory like warlords.

These rebel factions hoarded food, weapons, and other necessities, which they traded at extortionate prices. Lacking proper training and discipline, such amateur forces often cracked under pressure, abandoning zones and civilians they had pledged to protect. Their actions exposed more lives to zombie attack.

Only the unified military succeeded in taking back cities in an organized fashion. They implemented strict rules of engagement to avoid needless loss of life. With rigour and precision, they swept infested areas street by street, balancing caution with swiftness.

Yet the military remained understaffed, with its mission complicated by the uncontrolled actions of vigilantes. Some rogue bands even exchanged fire with troops if they tried to enforce order, believing martial law was tyranny.

This resistance from within weakened America's defense when it needed unity most. While civilians armed with good intentions tried to fight the zombie hordes, the chaos they sowed too often ended in tragedy.

It was only after the fall of Chicago that several large militias started to cooperate fully integrated with the military-industrial complex. As support troops under military command militias often proved to become valuable partners, securing logistics and collecting local information. The retaking of Chicago would have not been possible with the same speed and decisiveness we came to witness along these fine men and women.

As the situation dragged on our forces ran slowly out of supply. Thankfully many preppers had prepared well and while they often threatened to use violence to defend what they deemed “theirs” it was usually enough to aim a heavy auto cannon at their make-shift bunkers to make them comply. Only in rare cases they were blown up together with their bunkers from a safe distance to get access to their much needed supplies, which proved valuable to avert the supply crisis.

When most militias had aligned with the military the following mopping up of the undead became rather unspectacular. With nearly half of the surviving 280 million Americans armed and organized we managed to clean out whole cities in mere days where earlier the stalemate took months.

In the end, discipline and training proved decisive in beating back the undead tide. The armed forces and authorized law enforcement reclaimed civilization, block by block, though at a higher cost due to initial disorganization on the home front. Next time disaster strikes, we must work together in solidarity, and avoid the perils of fear-driven vigilantism.

...

Transcript 03

A video recording in bad quality, obviously from the webcam of a cheap notebook.

Farid: performing experiments on the tied body of a twitching zombie, then sighs and takes off bloody gloves I need a smoke, I can't keep doing this.

Gerhardt: Don't, you abstained for nearly 10 years!

Farid: lights cigarette anyway I know, I know. But cutting up these zombies, trying to find a cure...we're becoming Mengele's heirs if we continue.

Gerhardt: We have to keep going. The cure will save thousands, maybe millions of lives. The ends justify the means.

Farid: takes drag of cigarette, exhales smoke I hope you're right.

Gerhardt: examining a zombie specimen under microscope This is strange..look at this.

Farid: peers into microscope What am I seeing?

Gerhardt: The virus, it's no longer spreading in this one. The human cells don’t mutate any more.

Farid: eyes widening Are you thinking...

Gerhardt: stands up abruptly, knocking over stool Eureka! We've found it, the cure!

Farid: laughs triumphantly and high-fives Gerhardt All the work, the disgusting experiments, finally paid off! We did it! takes another drag of cigarette, smiling slyly It is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, what do you say?

Gerhardt: We'll be remembered as the scientists who ended the zombie plague. That's all that matters.

...

Transcript 07

[John de Vries reporting in front of court house, with cuts to prisoners in orange outfits locked into glass cubes]

Justice has finally been served against the violent vigilantism that plagued America's fight against the undead. Yesterday, a federal court convicted members of the notorious "Reaper Brigade" on charges of murder, assault, racketeering, and unlawful seizure of property.

This militia group rose to prominence in the early days of the zombie outbreak, when they took over the city of Red Oak and declared martial law. Brandishing weapons and improvised uniforms, they ruthlessly patrolled streets for both zombies and "law-breakers." Their harsh brand of order was enforced through coercion and public executions.

As the Reaper Brigade's territory grew, so did their abuses of power. They detained citizens without cause, ransacked homes for supplies, and killed dozens accused of hiding zombie bites or failing to comply with their decrees. Residents lived in fear as ruthless brigands posing as protectors.

When military forces moved to retake Red Oak, the militia violently resisted. They attacked troops and convoys, hampering zombie eradication efforts across the region. Even after their ousting, the Reapers continued guerrilla strikes and terror tactics. They left a trail of bodies, living and undead alike.

Yesterday's landmark convictions provide justice for the Reaper Brigade's victims, though it comes too late for the hundreds killed by their hands. The court sentenced the militia's leadership to death for their war crimes, with lesser figures receiving life in prison. Authorities also seized the group's stockpiles of ill-gotten resources.

While independent militias sought to aid the zombie war effort, the Reaper Brigade case stands as a stark warning of the havoc caused by unchecked vigilantism. As we rebuild our country, we must reject so-called protectors who exploit crisis for power. Their actions in the name of survival shook the foundations of our civilization when it was most fragile. This time, we ensured the rule of legitimate law for a secure future.

...

Transcript 08

[Excerpt from ‘CBS Evening News’, recorded and reported at site by Catherine Blinken]

In the wake of tragedy, a heart-warming act of compassion has divided public opinion. Maryanne Callow, a widowed farmer in Iowa, has taken into her home over a dozen children orphaned by the zombie outbreak. While many praise her generosity, others argue the war's survivors must fend for themselves.

Maryanne lost her husband Jonas to a zombie attack while trying to protect their town. She herself narrowly survived, escaping the horde that descended upon her farmhouse. In the aftermath, with no family left, Maryanne found purpose in sheltering those who suffered similar fates.

Having converted her barn into a makeshift dormitory, she spends her days tending fields and caring for the children. Though money is scarce, she generously shares what little food and milk her cows provide. Moved by selfless care from a total stranger, the orphans have embraced Maryanne as a surrogate mother.

Many in the community call Maryanne a saint taking on such a burden amidst her own grief. Her charity has inspired donations from Neighbors, grateful for her compassion. "She gave those kids a home when nobody else could," said local teacher Alice Huang.

However, not all reactions have been supportive. Some argue that with resources still scarce, individuals should provide for themselves and their own families first. They call Maryanne's actions foolhardy.

Outspoken rancher Wade Forrester criticized what he called "misplaced charity that enables the weak." He argued that taking in strangers' children may breed dependency in turbulent times.

Others have even crueller words for Maryanne, believing she harbours the orphans only for the extra farm hands. "The woman just wants free labour," claimed Randy Knox, whose own sons work his fields.

Maryanne pays no mind to the critics. "I have enough love for every child," she said, "And enough room in my heart and home, if others will not provide it." Her selfless devotion continues to nurture youths scarred by unimaginable horrors, giving them hope for the future.

...

Transcript 09

[Demonetised YouTube Video by notorious right wing conspiracy theorist Rush Sharapova]

The Official Story is a Lie! New Evidence Shows Zombie Outbreak Was Man-Made!

The government wants you to think the zombie epidemic was a freak natural occurrence – some mutated rabies strain or a virus that jumped species. But the truth is far more sinister.

New evidence reveals the undead pandemic was intentionally engineered and unleashed upon the public! This was no accident – it was a deliberate act of mass murder by power-hungry elites.

I have obtained secret documents that expose a covert CIA program called "Project Lazarus." For years they worked to develop weaponized diseases at a remote base in the Nevada desert. Their goal? To create infectious super-soldiers that could be controlled while unleashing chaos on enemies.

But the Frankenstein-like experiments got out of hand. An experimental zombie virus mutated into an uncontrollable plague. Rather than own up to their crimes, the CIA purposely released the contagion in major cities to cover their tracks. Their disregard for human life is staggering!

Meanwhile, the puppet President maintains his charade, pretending to "fight the outbreak" while enforcing martial law. But his tyrannical lockdowns have nothing to do with public safety or containment. It's only an excuse to increase surveillance, confiscate guns, and destroy civil liberties!

Who benefits most from this manufactured crisis? The New World Order, of course! It was a plot to cripple and subjugate the nation through fear. Now the globalists can reshape society to their twisted agenda with minimal resistance.

As you can all understand I can not disclose my proof as it would put my valuable life into danger but trust me, I know what I am doing!

Wake up, America! We have been betrayed by our own government – they are the true enemy. The corporate media continues the cover-up, but here at Truth Bearer Network, we won't rest until the guilty are exposed. The masses deserve to know how this evil was inflicted upon them. We must rise up against the liars and killers who orchestrated the zombie holocaust!

...

Transcript 10

[Excerpt from an ARMA3 discord channel]

PV2 Cheese: Did you see the latest conspiracy theory saying the government manufactured the zombie virus?

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Oh yeah, because the government is always cooking up bioweapons that conveniently get released on the public!

PV2 Cheese: Exactly! I'm sure they planned for the zombies to devour taxpayers and cripple the economy. That's governance 101.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Of course! The lizard overlords in the CIA obviously wanted society to collapse so they could control the survivors. Duh!

PV2 Cheese: It all makes perfect sense if you don't think about it at all! No way it could just be a freak natural outbreak. That would be too plausible.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Natural origin? Boring! It must be a sinister plot to take away our guns and freedoms under cover of martial law.

PV2 Cheese: Yeah, instigating the zombie apocalypse is definitely the most reasonable path to gun control and public obedience. Flawless logic.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: The government is famous for releasing dangerous diseases against their own people! Happens every Tuesday.

PV2 Cheese: Exactly, unleashing uncontrollable zombies is Political Science 101. I don't know why we're even questioning this, the truth is so obvious!

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Of course! I can't believe we ever doubted that the pandemic was engineered by shadowy forces to advance their evil agenda. Silly us!

PV2 Cheese: Yep, next time an unexplained disaster happens, we'll know right away it's a covert attack to expand the lizard people's power. Case closed!

...

Transcript 11

[Transcript from a Baltic telegram chat]

Can Deposit: Ugh, I'm so tired of the zombie apocalypse.

Skywalker1996: Tell me about it. I'm dead on my feet over here.

Can Deposit: The zombies keep barging in unannounced. So inconsiderate.

Skywalker1996: I know, they never RSVP! A little notice would be nice before they come over trying to eat our brains.

Can Deposit: How's your day going?

Skywalker1996: Oh you know, just casually getting attacked by the undead. Hbu?

Can Deposit: Same old, same old. Dodging zombies, boarding up windows, running out of avocado toast.

Skywalker1996: Ugh I miss avocado toast so much! Do you think the zombies would wait while I quickly make some?

Can Deposit: Doubtful. The only thing on their minds is devouring human flesh. No patience for brunch.

Skywalker1996: Rude! I bet if they just tried avocado toast they'd give up this whole brain eating thing.

Can Deposit: Worth a shot! Let's lure them in with artisanal toast and see what happens.

Skywalker1996: Omg please make that the next movie plot. Avocado Toast Zombie Whisperer. I'd watch it.

Can Deposit: Ha-ha deal. We'll get Brad Pitt on board and make millions!

Skywalker1996 [last online 14 days ago]

Can Deposit: Dude, you are still alive?

[...nothing...]

Can Deposit: Well, shit...

...

Transcript 12

Anti-Vax: I'm telling you, I'm not putting that vaccine in my body! There's a chance it could turn me into a zombie. I read online that it has a 1 in 1 million chance of causing zombification.

Brother: You're being ridiculous. That rumour has been debunked. There have been over 2 billion doses given worldwide with no issues.

Anti-Vax: Big Pharma is covering it up. They don't want to admit their mistakes. I'm not taking that risk.

Brother: You're already at risk! The zombie virus is already inside everyone. The vaccine just prepares your immune system to fight it off. If you don't get vaccinated, you'll likely turn into a zombie within 6 months anyway.

Anti-Vax: That's just a scare tactic. I feel fine, I'm not going to become a zombie.

Brother: You might feel fine now, but the virus has a long incubation period. By the time you show symptoms, it'll be too late. The vaccine is the only way to prevent people from turning once the virus becomes active.

Anti-Vax: You're believing all the media hype. I don't trust those so-called "experts." I'll take my chances without the vaccine.

Brother: This isn't about beliefs or opinions. It's about facts and science. The researchers have shown that the vaccine is safe and effective at stopping this virus. You're putting your life at risk by not getting vaccinated.

Anti-Vax: I'm not going to change my mind. I won't be turning into a mindless zombie for Big Pharma! This is about freedom and personal choice.

Brother: sigh Okay, it's your funeral. But don’t make Mum cry when you're walking around eating people's brains in a few months.

...

Transcript 01

This transcript is approved for public use.

This transcript summarizes the analysis and recommendations of the German Council of Economic Experts, colloquial known as the “Five Sages”, regarding the current status of the zombie outbreak and its implications for Germany and our European and international allies.

As you know, three months ago this country and the world faced an unprecedented crisis as a sudden, aggressive zombie plague erupted across the globe. Within weeks, much of humanity was overrun by relentless hordes of infected zombies. Governments were overwhelmed trying to contain the outbreak as zombies smashed through defences and overran cities. Society itself teetered on the brink of collapse.

Fortunately, NATO and the EU had already played out such disasters in simulation games. The four-year ‘Rise of the Dead’ war game in cooperation with the Vienna Military University proved to be extremely helpful in acting quickly and decisively.

Here in Germany we managed to withstand the initial zombie onslaught, despite being completely surprised and unprepared for such an unconventional attack. Thanks to our full disclose policy the public at first reacted with reluctance and disbelief, but quickly adopted and supported the often drastic measures. Our police and health authorities effectively took initial countermeasures, highly trained and disciplined, our forces held the line through the first days and held back the zombie hordes through courage, innovation and self-sacrifice when defeat seemed imminent.

But only the clearance of the military to operate within our own borders and the permission to neutralize infected citizens allowed us to get the initiative again. Bundeswehr Operations Command (EinsFüKdoBw) Potsdam had to evacuate towards camp Beelitz and re-established contact with Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) shortly after. The spearhead force of the Very High Readiness Joint Task Force (VJTF) as well as the Initial Follow On Forces Group (IFFG) reacted with outstanding performance but lack of material and disruption in transport slowed the deployment of the Response Forces Pool (RFP) to a crawl. In total, less than 120,000 of 300,000 NATO Response Force (NRF) ground troops were operational, spread across much of Europe. From these around 23.000 were in position to support local police. In addition (EinsFüKdoBw) managed to rally 76 additional local companies but isolated from higher command structures and plagued by lacklustre supply and equipment. These often formed ad hoc structures with reservists, civilian gun shops, shooting ranges, rescue services, forming makeshift battalions.

In hindsight we must point out the support of local businesses and municipal services in the relocation of EinsFüKdoBw with civilian vehicles. This saved precious hours and saved thousands of lives.

Our call for volunteers did not yield the desired forces, so the government declared a national state of emergency and conscripted citizens to maintain public order, health and basic services. This made it possible for the police, military, reservists and volunteer corps to focus on capture, hold and control operations.

As these actions included several formal violation of the constitution, we strongly suggest an amnesty of the government by the parliament through a legislative bill due to apocalyptic circumstances. Another problem is the use of infected victims for medical experiments. Although it is controversial if these are still sentient human beings, we must urgently advise a review, also in view of similar experiments in our shameful Nazi past.

Casualties were high, but Germany fared better than many allies who descended into chaos, especially nations already dealing with disorder or conflict. Desperate survivors fled to bordering countries perceived as safe, often bringing the same plague with them they tried to run from. This placed intense pressure on Germany to sealing borders, despite humanitarian concerns. Again, the numerous dead from denying refuge must be reviewed in the near future.

Things looked grim as SHAPE lost contact to CENTCOM. The United States, the most important ally of the European Union, lost the chain of command for a couple of days as internal vigilantism unleashed unexpected chaos among US citizens. Thankfully cool heads prevailed and restructured command and troops and made contact to SHAPE after nine days again.

Now, three months later, the zombie outbreak appears contained here and across most of Europe, thanks to the bravery and persistence of our forces. Pockets of zombie resistance persist, but 98% of infected humans are estimated neutralized. Vigilance remains necessary, but Europe seems to have survived humanity's greatest existential trial since the Second World War.

For Germany in particular, we judge the zombie crisis to be sufficiently managed at present for cautious stand-down of crisis emergency measures. Our borders can soon partially reopen to allow controlled refugee processing and essential trade. Domestic security restrictions can phase to lower alert levels as well. The nation must transition focus to economic, political and societal recovery.

Internationally, Europe must also now shift priorities from immediate zombie containment to addressing broader upheaval caused by the outbreak. Three priority areas are evident:

1. Strengthening European unity and cohesion after a crisis that sorely tested it.

2. Assisting fragile states elsewhere, especially in the developing world, whose collapse would further destabilize the global order.

3. Asserting Atlantic leadership during a power vacuum created by the breakdown of rules, cooperation and institutions.

Regarding European unity, scepticism toward EU institutions and fellow members undermined early coordinated response when it was needed most. Countries reflexively closed borders, hoarded resources, and pursued unilateral strategies that left allies feeling abandoned. We must learn from this failure and improve mechanisms for collective crisis response.

Germany should support this reform effort by calling for an emergency EU summit to develop legal frameworks for expedited joint-military operations, shared resource allocation, and centralized strategic decision-making during severe cross-border crises. The goal must be empowering collective institutions to make and enforce rules protecting the entire bloc, even over objections from individual members.

Secondly, state collapse in developing regions creates immense humanitarian tragedy and strategic risk. We must urgently provide aid and support to fragile states ravaged by the zombie onslaught and lacking resources for recovery. This includes deployment of military forces for security, public health assistance, and infrastructure reconstruction. Participation in these stabilization efforts will serve our values and national interests.

Looking beyond Europe, the global power vacuum is extremely concerning. As major powers focused internally, traditional geopolitical constraints evaporated. Conflict erupted in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa absent international mediation. Stockpiles of weapons and resources were raided by malicious opportunistic actors. Weak states fell, creating massive outbreaks of zombiefication. Several developing nations and most of their population must be considered completely lost.

Germany should press for emergency sessions of NATO, EU, and UN Security Council to coordinate restoring order. We must reassert our alliances and defend the principles of territorial sovereignty, human rights, and rule of law while adversaries attempt to impose authoritarian models and whole civilizations are literally consumed by Zombies. This will require collective security commitments between trusted allies.

In conclusion, Germany has gotten away with a black eye while surviving the zombie scourge. But new complex challenges have arisen from the ashes that require urgent attention. This briefing outlines recommendations on seizing this historic moment to strengthen European bonds, assist vulnerable allies, and reinforce the resilient democratic values that saved us from annihilation. With sufficient vision and leadership, Germany can help to rebuild international order and contain the dangers still lurking in shadowy corners, as we beat back the zombies from our cities and villages. We must stay vigilant, but hope remains in our hearts.

...

Transcript 02

TOP SECRET/OPERATIONAL ORDER

To: All NATO Forces

From: NATO SHAPE Headquarters, Mons, Belgium

Subject: Operation "RECLAIM ANTWERPEN"

SITUATION:

Antwerpen has been overrun by large hordes of zombies. Critical infrastructure and supply lines through the port have been disrupted. NATO must retake Antwerpen to reopen this vital port and transportation hub.

Multi-national NATO forces are still recovering and reassessing personnel and equipment losses from earlier zombie engagements. Participating NATO countries have volunteered forces to retake Antwerpen as follows:

• Belgium: 1st Battalion Paracommando Brigade staging in Brussels

• France: 3rd Marine Infantry Parachute Regiment staging in Lille

• France: Escadron de Chasse 2/30, staging in Colmar-Meyenheim

• France: 9th Battery, 40th Artillery Regiment, staging in Dunkerque

• Germany: 5th Battery, 131st Artillery Regiment staging in Aachen

• Germany: 291st Jäger Battalion staging in Eindhoven

• Netherlands: 11th Airmobile Brigade staging in Eindhoven

• US: 2nd Cavalry Regiment, Stryker Brigade staging in Chièvres Air Base

MISSION:

NATO will conduct offensive operations beginning on [RETRACTED] to retake Antwerpen from zombie forces.

EXECUTION:

Manoeuvre: Belgian forces will attack north seizing zombie-held areas around the port. Dutch forces will attack east to isolate the city. German forces will attack south to block potential zombie movements. US cavalry Regiment will provide QRF, targeting large zombie formations. French ground and air reserves are on standby.

Fire support: French and German artillery units will fire precision strikes against zombie strong-points. Naval gunfire from Royal Navy ships off the coast will provide additional fire support.

Protection: All forces will maintain disciplinary fire to avoid friendly casualties. US Stryker brigade will act as quick reaction force to counterattack zombie breakthroughs. Engineers will repair bridges and roads to maintain mobility.

Sustainment: Each country will provide national-level logistics support. Medical support will be coordinated by Belgian forces in Brussels.

COMMAND/SIGNAL: Headquarters SHAPE will command overall operation with national contingents retaining tactical control. Communications will utilize NATO classified channels.

Godspeed, soldiers.

---

Addendum 1:

Local civilian informants played a crucial role in scouting the area around Antwerpen prior to the military operation. By gathering intelligence on zombie movements and numbers, as well as identifying potential survivor holdouts, these brave informants provided critical insights that allowed forces to avoid dangerous areas and rescue trapped civilians. Their efforts scoping the battlefield proved invaluable.

Addendum 2:

A resourceful local farmer aided coalition forces using an ingeniously modified combined harvester. By outfitting the vehicle with a harvester header, the farmer was able to mow down scores of zombies with ease. His modified harvester enabled rapid clearance of hordes, paving the way for coalition troops to retake Antwerpen. The farmer's clever innovation and bravery were key factors in the operation's success and should be looked into by NATO Allied Command Transformation (ACT). If I may say so, beware of farmers with tractors, they are subtle and quick to anger.

...

Transcript 04

A video, most likely filmed from the perspective of a hidden camera attached to Putin’s FSB body guard.

Putin is sitting in his office in the Kremlin with Shoigu. Suddenly Putin turns to Shoigu with glassy, unfocused eyes.

Putin (zombie voice): I need brains. Must eat brains.

Putin lunges at Shoigu and bites into his head. Shoigu collapses to the ground.

Several Agents and Kremlin officials rush in.

Official 1 (scared): President Putin has become a zombie!

Official 2 (angry): This is an outrage! Putin can no longer lead Russia in this state.

FSB Agent (arrogant): How dare you criticize the President! He is still our supreme leader. You are under arrest!

Putin shambles around the room, blood dripping from his mouth.

Putin (zombie voice): I am leader of all zombies. Give me brains!

The officials argue about who should donate his brain next while Putin devours one after the other. When no one is left the FSB agent defects to the west and sells the recording to CNN.

The troll factories of St. Petersburg are trying to spin the story that Putin did not become a zombie, that this is a lie from the decadent West, that their beloved leader instead just wants to fully savour the minds of his people.

---

Meanwhile near Bakhmut, Zelenskyy is watching footage of the Kremlin scene on his phone.

Zelenskyy (ice cold, grim voice): I'm not even surprised.

Zelenskyy puts on his earbuds, listening to ‘Judas Priest Painkiller’, grabs a chainsaw and starts fighting off Russian zombies alongside Ash Williams, Alice Abernathy, Daryl Dixon, Tallahassee and Cherry Darling, defending the hills over Bakhmut.

...

Transcript 05

Excerpt from r/jokes and r/ukraine:

Why did nobody realize Putin was a zombie? Because he had been dead inside for years.

Why did Putin's speeches start sounding more disjointed and zombie-like?

Because he was trying to appeal to his undead base.

Why did Putin suddenly start wearing sunglasses all the time?

Because his eyes were now permanently bloodshot from all the brain-eating.

Why did Putin's enemies stop calling him a dictator?

Because they thought he was now just a "dead-tator".

Why did Putin get kicked out of the zombie club? Because he kept trying to annex their territories.

Why did Putin's zombie followers start to lose faith in him?

Because he kept insisting on a "one brain, one vote" policy.

Why did Putin's doctor never realize he was a zombie?

Because he always had a pulse...on his political opponents.

Why did Putin's chef never realize Putin became a zombie?

Because he always has asked for his steak "rare and bloody".

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Zelenskyy? To ask if Ukraine had a brains-for-oil program.

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Zelenskyy?

To suggest a new horror movie plot: "Zombie President vs. Comedian-in-Chief".

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Lukaschenka?

To discuss the possibility of a joint invasion of "Brainland".

Why did Putin become a zombie?

Because he thought it would be a great way to "reanimate" his political career.

Why did Putin become a zombie?

Because he realized that he could finally eat his opponents' brains legally.

Why did Putin become a zombie?

To prove that he's not afraid to "sink his teeth" into the tough issues facing Russia.

...

Transcript 13

The evening News from TaiwanTV with Yeh Chou!

China's brave scientists are working day and night to find an antidote to the zombie virus that is threatening to overrun the mainland. Two million Chinese citizens turn into zombies every day, but China's leaders refuse to use the proven German antidote.

According to government officials, the German solution developed by those arrogant long-noses would be a loss of face for China. Instead, Chinese scientists are experimenting with traditional herbal remedies and acupuncture to stop the zombie plague. So far there have been no reports of success.

Meanwhile here in Taiwan, we have rolled out a massive and efficient vaccination program using the German antidote. Thanks to well-organized distribution and lines that move quickly, Taiwanese citizens have showed their patriotism by lining up en masse to get the zombie shot.

Experts forecast that at this rapid pace, the entire Taiwanese population may be immune to the zombie virus within two months! Our economy has not suffered any major disruptions due to zombie outbreaks and civil unrest. Life goes on as normal here in Taiwan.

It seems China's pride may cost them dearly as the zombie outbreak rages on unchecked. Perhaps they should swallow their national ego and get the proven vaccine before most of their citizens become the walking dead! Only time will tell if China's ancient herbal cures can compete with modern science in the fight against this zombie apocalypse. Stay tuned to TaiwanTV for further humorous commentary on China's noble but potentially disastrous zombie experiment!

...

Transcript 14

COSMIC TOP SECRET/STRATEGIC OVERVIEW

To: NATO Council

From: NATO Military Committee

Subject: Strategic Overview of the world wide zombie outbreak

SITUATION:

The global zombie outbreak continues to spread but some regions have managed to contain the situation.

North America, Western Europe, Australia and New Zealand have implemented successful defences through vaccination and military operations.

Japan and South Korea, with assistance from U.S. and Taiwanese forces, have pushed back large numbers of North Korean zombies apparently deployed deliberately by the Kim regime.

Columbia remains the last organized holdout in South America withstanding zombie hordes from the southern parts of the continent with support incoming from Canada, Mexico and the US by the hour.

Africa has been completely overrun, with zombie numbers in the hundreds of millions ravaging the continent. EU and Arab coalition forces have established strongholds at the narrow land bridge to the Arabian subcontinent.

The situation in Asia is deteriorating rapidly. Only pockets of resistance remain as zombie numbers climb.

Ukraine, Belarus, and the Kaliningrad region have joined the NATO council and are helping Russian separatist forces to defend St. Petersburg from millions of zombies moving from Central Asia toward NATO borders. Russian President Putin still appears to be in power in much of Russia, even though rumours suggest that he got some weird appetite while his health is visibly deteriorating.

Africa has experienced a total breakdown of civilization and must be considered a lost cause beyond any hope of recovery due to the sheer size of zombie populations.

The use of nuclear weapons is no longer rejected given the hundreds of millions of zombies posing an existential threat. Precision strategic strikes may be necessary to neutralize zombie hordes in key locations.

In summary, the global situation remains dire. While some regions have stabilized through vaccination and military force, zombie numbers continue to climb in Parts of Asia, most of South America and Africa. Containment will require an international coalition effort utilizing all means necessary.

While some progress has been made containing the initial zombie outbreak, we must recognize this crisis is far from over and likely to escalate further in the coming months. We have only a limited time to prepare for the worst.

MISSION:

We demand a massive increase in wartime industrial production to supply our military forces. Makeshift militias must be incorporated into regular support units and mandatory conscription of all able-bodied adults up to two years is strongly recommended.

A coordinated international effort must urgently ramp up scientific research and technology development to fight the zombie virus at its source. This includes more effective vaccines, antiviral treatments, and detection methods.

The construction of additional crematoriums and disposal facilities is critical to destroy the bodies of neutralized zombies and eliminate the risk of further infection.

No country has been spared from this plague. We have already suffered millions of casualties worldwide:

• No reliable Numbers for China and Russia due to complete news blackout.

• At least one billion dead in Africa, possibly a complete extinction event.

• 300 million dead in Asia, possibly much higher, large pocket resistance holding out

• 100 million dead in South America, possibly much higher, disorganized resistance holding out

• 45 million dead in North America

• 35 million dead in Europa outside Russia

• less than 100,000 dead in Australia, New Zealand, Taiwan, Japan.

These numbers will continue to climb exponentially without drastic and coordinated global action. We are in a race against time. Nations must come together, putting aside differences, to mount a full scale war effort against the zombie horde threatening to consume humanity.

We at NATO pledge to work with all allies willing to do whatever is necessary to defend life and civilization itself. The hardest days lie ahead, but with unity of purpose and relentless resolve, we can prevail.

Now is the time for mankind to look danger in the eye, stand as one, and fight for our very survival as a species. The alternative is too horrific to contemplate. The fate of humanity rests upon our collective response in the coming months. We must rise to this challenge with courage, conviction and unrelenting will.

EXECUTION:

• Coordinate shipments of industrial materials and supplies between member nations to avoid bottlenecks and shortages. Joint Support Enabling Command (JSEC) can identify which countries have surplus production capacity of key materials and match them with countries that need those materials.

• Provide funding and incentives for businesses to rapidly expand production lines for critical military equipment like armoured vehicles, body armour, weapons, ammunition, communication devices, and medical supplies. Allied Command Acquisition (ACA) can identify which companies have the ability to scale up fastest and prioritize contracts.

• National temporarily relax regulations around work hours, shift lengths, and hiring to allow businesses to operate at maximum output. The pro-Western allies can also coordinate the sharing of skilled labour between countries.

• Invest in automation and modernization of production facilities to maximize output. The allies can share and optimize research and development funds to provide grants for businesses to upgrade factories and incorporate things like robotics and 3D printing.

• Provide grants and funding for scientific research related to understanding and combating the zombie virus. This includes research into the virus's origin, spread, genetic makeup, and potential cures or treatments. The WHO can coordinate a consortium of scientists and researchers from member nations.

• Organize collaboration between pharmaceutical companies, biotech startups, government research agencies and universities to accelerate development of antiviral drugs, vaccines and diagnostic tests. The WHO can facilitate sharing of data, resources and intellectual property.

• Construct new research laboratories, provide additional funding and expedite approvals/permits for research projects with potential to combat the outbreak. The WHO leadership must make combating the virus the top scientific priority.

...

Transcript 15

The sweltering African sun beat down unforgivingly as Kudzo and Akosua walked, hand in hand, along the dusty road. Kudzo looked at Akosua with a smile as they spotted the border to the Arabian Peninsula, the towering fortifications already visible in the distance, a feeling of hope in the air.

Akosua returned the smile but suddenly she caught a glims of movement!

"Kudzo, over there!"

Dozens of rotting, cadaverous figures were staggering behind them, flesh hanging in decaying tatters from their bones.

"Run for your life!" Kudzo cried as the young couple took flight towards the towering fortifications in the distance.

As they fled, the horde of zombies grew inevitably, becoming hundreds, then thousands, maybe millions, filling the horizon like a swarm of pestilence liquid flesh. Akosua was already exhausted from the arduous journey, close to breaking down, dragged along by Kudzo.

Reaching the fortress walls, they begged the soldiers above to let them in, the horde closing in fast. For precious seconds nothing happened, most soldiers just turned away, avoiding their pledge. But finally an officer saw their youth and ordered for the gates to be opened, violating standing orders.

Only a moment before the couple was overrun by the rotten horde the soldiers unleashed a storm of bullets from their fortifications, cutting down masses of zombies. Yet more kept coming, an endless tide of corruption.

Kudzo and Akosua slipped through the gates as a few zombies followed, bringing Kudzo to fall, biting into his flesh as Akosua screamed a cry of anguish that rent the very heavens.

Quickly some soldiers rushed over and slaughtered the zombies with knifes and bayonets while the gates swung shut, sealing out damnation.

A summoned medic gazed upon Kudzo's ravaged body, while tears like crystal raindrops streamed down Akosua's cheeks. "He'll become one of them!" she sobbed broken-heartedly.

The medic applied several injections at the bleeding Kudzo, tended his wounds.

“We know how to handle this. We got the meds and a field hospital not far from here. And he is a tough fighter."

Meanwhile, the battle outside escalated, the sound of guns atop the wall became a never-ending storm of din. But when it suddenly stopped everybody knew the worst was yet to come, an alarm siren wailed its doleful song.

"Protective nuclear strike!" the medic screamed! Suddenly everybody began running, the soldiers jumped from the wall, hurried and fumbled into bunkers and trenches.

The medic pulled Kudzo and Akosua into an crudely dug underground cave as the ground trembled from nuclear hate just outside the wall, the bright light shadowing over the wall into the sky over-shining the very sun, shattering their world.

After what seemed like eternity, the shaking subsided. The medic forced a grin. "Sorry about the little nuclear war outside. I'm Rajab. And you?"

Akosua began to weep bitter tears anew. "I'm Akosua. This is Kudzo. Are there other survivors?"

Rajab smile faded. He gazed sorrowfully at Kudzo's wounds then at Akosua's tear-stained face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "You were the only ones for weeks and what came in your wake robs me of all hope. I wish there was more I could do to ease your mind. But at least you are alive. And by Allah the Almighty, I will give my best to keep your friend alive too."

...

Transcript 16

Six years later. John Stilton sits outside his little wooden hut in the middle of nowhere, enjoying a little moon shine from a plastic bottle.

“Look at that… haven’t seen any Stinker for two years..” he mumbled as a pale creatures stumbled aimlessly towards him. He pulled his 45er out of his holster and took aim.

“Hold it John!” the spindly creature wailed “It is me, Bob Fraser. Did we win?”

John held the gun upwards and secured it, not believing his own eyes for a moment.

“What do you mean with ‘did we win’? Have you been living under a rock? Where have you been all these years?”

Bob falls into the chair next to John. John nonchalantly offers him the plastic bottle with the moon shine. Bob took a big swig, he found words again.

“I have been hiding after Chicago fell. I had a bunker and I had guns and food and shit… I ran out of food a week ago. What happened? Did the government collapse? Who is ruling the world now? What happened?”

John looked angry a Bob.

“You hid in a fucking hole and let others do the dirty work? Fuck you Bob. You are an asshole. We others stood together, we stood tall. We fought, we bleed, we suffered. But we prevailed! Nothing collapsed. It was the very foundations our ancestors build which kept us afloat. It was our allies sharing their wisdom, It was brave men and woman defending the weak. Together.”

John turned to Bob, glared at the dull pale creature next to him, the creature which looked more like a zombie than a breathing human.

“BOB WE FUCKING WON AFTER TWO YEARS. And you fucking hid in a dirty little hole shitting your pants for another four years. You are a spineless idiot.”

Bob remained silent. Took another swig from the bottle and nodded.

“How has live been for you?” wondered Bob.

“Been stationed at Columbia for half a year. Shooting Stinkers for a while, taking care of survivors. Later my Battalion moved down the south coast, supplying resistance pockets, down to Tierra del Fuego. A beautiful wild land. Met my future son-in-law down there. He he joined us, we became good friends, after we were done south he stood at my house for half a year, getting his feet back on the ground. He wooed my daughter, returned to Tierra del Fuego, started a new life with my daughter down there. He still shots Stinkers from time to time but his cattle farm is doing well. A very solitude life though, not many survived in the South.”

“How bad was it?”

“Billions. Billions dead. Africa has been practically sterilized and is resettled by Arabs and Europeans. The European Union is now claiming a third of Africa and a third of Russia. South America has still millions of Zombies hidden in the Amazonas, no one dares to venture there. Half of the population dead, no nation structures existing any more, lots of settlers pouring in from North- and Middle-America, claiming the empty lands and declaring new nations. Central Asia, Russia, most of China, half of India gone. The Europeans and Chinese nearly went nuclear about the Siberian oil fields. In the end some Russian warlords had stolen enough nukes to be taken serious and claimed Siberia and gathered around 500.000 remaining Russkis around them.

The rest of the territory is free to grab for the first settlers. Most interestingly even Chinese settlers align to the EU. Not much love for a Chinese government refusing to use a perfectly good vaccine for stupid reasons. Oh, and the US put up some military outposts and claims around Kamchatka. No one wants to live there but better have and not need than need and not have. All in all the death toll was brutal. But now… so many opportunities. I mean a third of the world is now free to grab. Most tyrants and oligarchs collapsed. Whatever is left nowadays are the hardcore die-hard who know the value of having a trusted mate protecting your back. The economy is bustling, there are good jobs everywhere.”

“But you are staying here in the Rockies?”

“Guess so. I am 65. I’ll just enjoy my last days with good booze and fresh game in the wonderful Rockies. How about you?”

“Is my farm still around?”

“Nope. You have been considered dead and it was torn down. But I guess if you go south you will easily find an abandoned Hacienda somewhere in Argentine. You are still young enough to start anew. Are you 50? 51? How about marrying again?”

“Something like that. Too bad I wasted so much time hiding in a hole.”

“Bob?”

“Yes?”

“I am happy you are still alive, mate.”

Authors notes

These texts resulted from a discussion with a misanthropic prepper (“when the apocalypse comes I hide in my basement with my gun and tons of canned food”) and a writing prompt I came over a couple of weeks before. I don’t claim it is something special, I just did it because I was in the mood.

I used the topic to experiment with AI-supported writing. Either I let AI improve my texts or I gave the AI very long and elaborated prompts to generate the text. That way I wanted to test how I could use different writing styles. Still around 50% of the text is hand made or heavily edited AI content. As may be obvious I also used different models and infrastructure prompts. To my surprise the list of Putin jokes is 100% ChatGPT and still funny.

I could have done it without ChatGPT but it would have taken a lot longer and it allowed me to try out LOTS OF different aspects, locations, writing styles, drama, humour, scientific analysis, military briefing, whatever… all in just four hours of writing. And it was an interesting experience, I might from now on always use AI at least for quality assurance.

After the crushing defeat marking the end to the 2. Human-Illirian War the United Illirian Planets disbanded Humanity's military forces leaving only intra-system police and customs crafts as well as, after long protests by the Solarian temporary government, one warship to guard Voyager 1, continuing a 500-year-long tradition.

The following decades saw Humanity's integration into the Council of Species, helped along by massive economic aids, in a large part from the UIP turning these old enemies into close economic allies.

150 years later the Council of Species faces a threat unlike any before.

"And now to the last item on today's agenda, proposal 54748, the reactivation of Humanity's military forces, brought forward by the United Illirian Planets. First, let's hear First Speaker Ullioid of the United Illirian Planets."

"Thank you, president. With the enemy closing in from the galactic center we need any military forces possible to fight back. Leaving an economic power as huge as the Solarian Republic untapped is simply bad strategy. Our Human friends have shown their trustworthiness and honor over the last century. We believe it is time to remove the last traces of a conflict long over and let them fight on our side in this new conflict."

"Thank you, First Speaker. Now let us discuss... Yes, King Kaskart the 110th."

"Thank you, president. I don't see how granting the Humans the right to create their own military will bring us any benefit so late into the war, the..."

"It is hardly late yet! The war may as well continue..."

"The Humans can't be trusted. 150 years aren't nearly enough time to..."

"Please return to order. Let King..."

For the next hours the Council of Species descended into controlled chaos. At any given point, multiple voices could be heard trying to be louder than the next, yet never too many for a careful listener to gather all the major points.

After the discussion quieted down, the president took the word again. "Now that everyone could voice their thoughts, let us hear the ones this affects most. If you would, President Josef Schmidt of the Solarian Republic."

"Thank you, president. First let me thank the United Illirian Planets for the trust placed in us in the name of all Solarian Citizens and all other Humans scattered across council space. It is hard to explain how proud and happy we are to be seen as friends and allies after all the atrocities in our shared past. For the future, all we wish for is to prosper together with all other members of the Council of Species. Letting us help in the war will surely be remembered as a historic point marking a new era of cooperation by all our descendants."

"Thank you, President. Some of our council members have expressed concerns about your loyalty towards the council once the war is over."

"The Solarian Republic is not the same as the United Nations of Earth in our history books. The Solarian Republic was part of the Council of Species since its foundation and will stay till its end!"

"Thank you. There are concerns about the strategic gains in the current war by creating additional drain on our resources by creating a whole new military."

"Supplying existing forces takes, of course, priority over creating new forces, however, we have large ship building and refitting capabilities, which, while unable to build true warships, will be able to produce a fleet of armed transports to make sure our supplies will reach your forces at the front line. And let's not forget our sole warship Mountain guarding Voyager 1, which ended up quite large since we only have one."

"Thank you, President. The council will now commence the first vote."

---

One almost (the Tertretan people are undisputed masters of holding grudges) unanimous vote later near Argos IV.

The rail gun ship Moon Lancer, Royal Kaskart Navy, shook rhythmically every ten seconds, firing its twenty rails one after the other into the nearly empty void. Moon Lancer was far behind the actual battlefield along the orbit of Argos V, a gas giant not unlike Jupiter, coordinating the frantic efforts to keep the enemy at bay until the evacuation of the inner planets would be finished.

Officer Kertrek, Long range Sensor Station 2.

"Another 8 Drops, 5 light hours, in plane, 65°. 2 battleship size, 6 cruiser. Designate Zeta 5. Heading towards Argos VI."

"Hah, lucky guy!", came from behind him.

"What?"

"You got number 1000!", his colleague Officer Brekun, Long range sensor station 1, shouted over the thump signaling another titanium round leaving the ship.

"Didn't Senkrat get the thousandth?"

"Nah, identification, just one battleship, not 5 Transports. Hey, think we reach 2000?"

"I bet they have enough ships for that. Just hope... Wait."

Kertrek reached over to the microphone activator, "Another drop, 4 light hours, in plane, 350°. Moon size, wait, what?! Oh. Oh Fuck. Correction, one planet size. Designate Zeta 6. Heading towards Argus IV." Click.

"The fuck is planet size?"

"Too big for moon!"

"There's no upper limit for moon!"

"Radius of over 6000km?"

"Fuck! That large? Guess that works."

"Great, now let.. Oh no."

Click, "Counting dozens of new objects around Zeta 6. Battleship size. Same trajectory." Click.

"Bridge to LRS 2, confirm planet size object heading towards Argus IV.", sounds from Kertreks terminal.

Click, "Confirming planet size object heading towards Argus IV. Object is accelerating. Over 100 Battleship size on same trajectory." Click.

"Hah, bridge doesn't believe it either. You sure... Ah, wait.", Click, "Five drops..."

---

The flag bridge had descended into utter madness, a planet-sized object accelerating under its own power with any meaningful speed wasn't just unheard of; it was generally considered physically impossible.

During the chaos, Communications Officer Perham was busy organizing the patrols screening the evacuation transports when the computer forwarded a message to her terminal:

"This is Captain Arthur of the warship Mountain, Solarian Navy. You've probably spotted us already, it's the moving planet. Chuckles We have one warship with more firepower than most moon defense bases and 200 battleship sized fighters. How can we be of assistance?"

---

A surprisingly short battle later on a secure channel between admiral Krigsten of the RKN and captain Arthur of the SN.

"So tell me, where you got that thing and a whole fleet to accompany it? Until two weeks ago you had no navy at all."

"Ah, but we don't have a fleet; this is just our single warship guarding Voyager 1. For the time being, we simply entrusted local law enforcement with keeping it safe."

"Pretty sure that's way past a warship."

"But it is one, we have followed galactic law by the letter: 'Humanity may guard their historic probe Voyager 1 with a single warship, which may deploy a maximum of 200 fighters.' Mountain is a warship as defined by the council. 'A warship is a starship primarily built for military actions' and a starship being 'any fully artificial structure capable of independent maneuvering at sublightspeed as well as in hyperspace.'"

"You want to tell me that is not a planet you covered under a kilometer of steel but an actual steel planet?"

"Yeah, makes the initial construction a bit harder, but the payoff is so worth it. Want to know the size of our primary reactor?"

"No, I'm good."

"It's larger than your flagship. And we have over ten."

"Ugh. Thanks."

"Haven't told you about our fighters yet."

"No need to, I'm getting the picture."

"Turns out, by council definition, you can turn everything into a fighter by removing the hyperspace drive and placing the hangar on a military installation."

"Are you done?"

"You want to hear more?"

"No."

"Then yes."

"Great."

"We had built a second one in case we needed a replacement. It'll be here in a week."

---

One of my favorites I posted over on r/hfy before.

Part 1 | Part 2

Entry Sixteen

I suppose the entry before this must seem quite hysterical. It was not the numbers alone which disturbed me, and the others of the delegation. The human ambassador told me once that “necessity is the mother of invention.” These people need a means of controlling their population so badly that the first thing some of us did when we returned to privacy was propose that they be given a working FTL drive and the coordinates of a world they could inhabit and we could not.

Of course the Ambassador rejected that foolishness. I approve. What unnerved me so deeply was that the humans seem to be capable of surviving so much that we could not. I do not, of course, speak of solar radiation. A little extra stellar radiation could be compensated. These, however, are a warlike people. That was my impression when first we met, and my opinion has not wavered.

Yet, they coexist in tight groups in most of their population centers, their colonies were made of a mix of people that their nature states they could not tolerate, and their culture overcomes fractious divides so fast…we nearly kill them off, and then, not sixty days after the event, those who continue to demand that we suffer retribution are labeled – OPENLY! – by their leaders as deluded. If these people had developed FTL drives on their own, we would have met them on the edges of our own territory, I am sure. We would have met as friends. But we would have met as equals, when we are currently not. I should not be so disturbed by that thought. Yet I am.

Entry Seventeen

Two hundred seventy days gone by. The human ambassador has become more and more reluctant to divulge information about his own people to us, even as he shows us around his homeworld and pours more and more data about his species into our computers, for our analysts to devour.

He answers every question we ask him, yet he divulges less and less in the way of specifics. Oddly enough, he actually seems far more relaxed in our presence than he was when we met. He showed up in a completely different set of clothing than the type he usually wears today, lacking the odd cloth around his neck. I wonder why?

Entry Eighteen

We returned to Earth today, and I am far more impressed this time than I let myself be last time. The human ambassador this time took us to what seems to be a site of great importance to his people: a building in one of their largest cities called the UN Headquarters.

The building, I mean, not the city. We spoke to a panel of two hundred human ambassadors, each representing a human nation or extra-planetary colony. We answered questions, and had our images captured by their media, through a very thick-looking defensive device. When I asked why we were being defended, the human ambassador’s aide told me that it was for our own protection from those humans who did not appreciate our presence here as much as they should.

I was touched by this, though apparently this is not at all unusual. We spoke to many of these diplomats, and I came away with the feeling that many had wanted to ask far more questions than they had been able to, out of a sense of propriety. Our own Ambassador told me that he thought it was to prevent any sort of insult, but I was not sure. Some of the human ambassadors seemed outright angry at our presence, and several were apparently restrained from outburst only by their peers’ angry gestures.

I think it has something to do with the nearly groveling request the human chief ambassador gave to us on the very first day: not to even decrypt, let alone translate, a single one of the millions of messages sent to our ship, directly or otherwise, that did not bear his signature.

Entry Nineteen

Three hundred solar days have passed since the humans replied to our communications. We hold meetings on their planet as often as we do in space now. I am pleased by this, in all honestly. There is a strange appeal to these people that was simply not there when we first met. One particularly unguarded conversation with a human diplomatic aide produced an interesting result.

The young woman said that she and many others were raised on fiction involving humanity playing the defender against unexplained or meaningless alien invasion, or playing the victim of some horrible, incomprehensible force of destruction, and the thought that life beyond their own system would be friendly and share the virtue of self-sacrifice was a vast relief. I had never considered this.

Most species in this galaxy, we find, are very open with us immediately, or at least after a very brief period of distrust. These people did not trust us beyond discussion until we had offered our lives to save their planet, yet it seemed that we had achieved more in that act of proposed sacrifice than we had realized. These humans do, however, place too much emphasis on propriety for the sake of propriety.

I do hope this woman does not come to reprimand because of our entirely unofficial exchange. The ambassador of the humans has certainly been making more and more of an effort to control what we see and hear of these people the more time we spend with them.

Entry Twenty

I understand fully now why the human ambassador was trying to restrict our communications. The ship’s crew, not a part of our diplomatic efforts, have been covertly compiling and translating vast amounts of the messages directed to our ship, without our approval.

We have been exposed to their indirect communications, of course – we discovered them through the presence of their first radio transmissions, after all – and we have tapped their system-wide information networks, but the unauthorized communications directed to us, specifically, have been politely ignored and untranslated, thanks almost entirely to the human ambassador’s fervent pleas.

The crew of the ship, however, have found that some of these signals contain messages of such hate and vitriol, such murderous rage and terrorized accusations, that had I not spent over three hundred local days immersing myself in their culture, I could have mistaken it for a declaration of war. The human ambassador has much to answer for.

______________________________________________________________ To be continued...

Part 1 | Part 2

Thanks to u/Prohibitorum for original transcription. Original Image

Chapter 1

Deedra opened her eyes slowly, eyelids still heavy from sleeping. It was the dream she just had, that woke her. It was not a bad dream, just… strange. She had seen herself being held by a man in battered golden armour. The man didn’t seem familiar to her, but his eyes reminded her of her fathers, deep warm brown, filled with kindness and compassion.

The family common room was covered in pre-dawn darkness, only faint light coming in through the window behind her, ever so slightly illuminating the room.

She rolled over in her bed, facing the window, looking out into the sky. The clouds on the horizon had begun turning purple, signalling the coming of Zul’tekt, the Great Lifegiver, giving them another warm day.

She lay there, thinking of the stories her father often had told her about the great battle, Zul’Tekt had fought, to be able to serve the people below him, to bring them life and light. How he won with the help of his sisters, Gel’Tekt and Mun’Tekt, who now gives soft light at night to the people below them. Gel’Tekt had been badly burned, according to the story, which was why she had a red face. But her red face was supposed to bestow eternal love, if lovers kissed beneath her face, when she looked directly at them, fully round. Deedra wondered often if her parents had kissed in her full view of them.

A large shadow moved past the window, blocking her view of the sky for a brief second, breaking her drowsy state.

“Ballock,” she whispered with a smile “You’re awake early too, I see…”

The Scraw-bear her father had rescued a little over 8 years ago, would often go into the forest to forage, just when day would be turning to night, and then return some time during the night to sleep in the barn. She saw him as her brother, having grown up together, playing and running through the meadows. He always won ofcourse, given his six powerful legs.

Deedra could vaguely remember the day her father came home with him, so tiny he was, not much more than skin and bones. She could however, clearly remember how angry her mother had been with him, not wanting him to bring such a dangerous animal into their home, near their daughter.

He found the tiny cub, deep in the forest while looking for wild seeds. He was cuddled up against the dead mother, having died in a trap someone had set. Now, though, she loved him just as much as the rest of the family.

He was smart as a whip too. Had taken all the training her father put him to, like a fish learning to swim and now helping with ploughing, hauling, hunting and even playing hide and seek with her!

Deedra slowly slid out from under her covers and let her bare feet touch the cold floor, sending a shiver through her body. Sitting up, she wiped the sleep out from her eyes, while letting her feet find her boots, so she could get this day started.

After pulling her boots all the way on, she got up and went over to the hearth, holding out a hand over the firepit. It still radiated heat. Hoping she had a bit of luck with her, she bent down and gently blew on the ashes, making some embers flare up.

Happy that she would not have to use the flint and steel to make a fire, she drew out some kindling from the basket next to the hearth, as to give the fire something to feed on, before placing two pieces of dry wood on top of the flames.

Heavy breathing and the sound of sniffing coming from the outer door drew her attention. Ballock was aware that she was awake.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming to say goodmorning to you.” she whispered with a chuckle, taking two handfuls of dried berries from a jar on the counter, next to the hearth, one of which she stuffed into her mouth.

Having barely unlatched the door, it was pushed open by the big head of the Scraw-bear, his spiralled horns having made more scratches in the wood. He happily greeted her with a big wet snout to her face. He had become too big to enter fully, but would still put his whole head in, whenever the door was open. He loved to be as close to them as possible.

“Mammi is gonna be mighty mad at you for keeping making marks in her door” she whispered to him, while giving him a scratch along the scruff of his neck and putting the berry-filled hand into his mouth, where she let them go and withdrew her hand, so he could swallow them in one gulp.

“Did you have an exciting night?” she asked him softly, while wiping the saliva off her hand in her nightgown.

The morning air was brisk around her exposed legs, but forewarned that it would be a hot day. Perfect for harvesting the last Sulni-flowers and drying them.

She really enjoyed the tea Master Fremdon, Master Tea Maker in town, made with them. Sulni-flowers being the main ingredient, he got most of his supply from them so they made a fine living here.

Sulni flowers were notoriously hard to cultivate and farm, mostly growing in the wild, but those with the will, knowledge and luck could get them to grow. The flower itself was white as snow, with five long petals and a red centre, drawing in insects with its sweet scent, which would be trapped and devoured by the plant. Deedra would often spend time among them, enjoying their sweet aroma.

Her father had built a wind powered construct to speed up the drying process, so they did not need to let them lay out in the sun for several days, like others that managed to grow the flowers. She had heard rumours in town that some used magic to speed it up, but had never met anyone who could do that. She really wanted to meet someone who could do that.

The creaking of the door to her parents room caught her ear and she looked to see her father entering the common room.

“You’re up early.” her father whispered loudly, as he closed the door behind him.

“‘Morning pappi” she greeted him, giving Ballock a last squeeze, before going over to her father to give him a hug too. Her head only reached up to the middle of his stomach and her hands could almost touch behind him. He stooped over to hug her back and kissed her on the top of her head.

“You hungry?” he asked her, letting go of her and ruffling her long brown hair. She had inherited his hair. Thick, strong and boring brown, she thought. At least she had been blessed with her mothers beautiful eyes.

She hated when he made a mess of her hair like that and started to comb it with her fingers as best she could.

“Yes, a bit.” she answered, as he went over to the hearth, where he took down a cauldron from a hook and hung it over the low-burning fire. He then grabbed more wood to get the fire going strong.

“Is mammi all right?” Deedra asked her father, as she removed her nightgown and boots to change into her clothing. “I heard her scream in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, yes, just a bad dream…” her father reassured her. “Will you go fetch a bucket of milk when you have changed?”

A bit later, they were all sitting together, eating a hearty breakfast consisting of porridge, bread, eggs and some smoked meat. Her mother had dark furrows under her eyes, but she still looked as beautiful as a newly blossomed wild rose, with her raven-black hair, fair skin and emerald green eyes, that smiled at them both, full of love.

They were talking about the things they had to get done today, crops to harvest and equipment to check for tomorrow, when Deedra would go to the market, all by herself for the first time. She was very excited about it, but also a bit nervous. The 1 hour long journey into town was safe, but there were always many more people in town during market day and she had always had her father to lean on in case of uncertainties. At least she would have Ballock to protect her, if anyone tried anything.

Last month, she had done all the haggling instead of her father, with him watching over her, and had shown great aptitude for it, not letting anyone get the better of her. The price for the Sulni-flowers had already been arranged, so she would not have to worry about that. Master Fremdon had been by 10 days ago to evaluate the flowers and her father and he had agreed to 2 silver per pound of dried flowers and 6 pounds of tea, once it was done, which should last them for at least until next year.

“I think the harvest this year will bring in more than enough to buy the materials to build your own room, Dee” her father said to her “maybe even an addition for Ballock, so he does not have to sleep in the barn, all alone.”

“Wrenrik!” Her mother said to him, “I love him just as much as you, but he is NOT getting a room inside the house. He will make a mess of things! Not much worse than you, of course…” she ended, smiling at him.

Wrenrik stopped mid-motion taking a spoonful of porridge, putting it slowly back in the bowl, just staring at her. Then, swift for a man his size, he was out of his seat, got behind her, tickling her and ‘scolding’ her for saying he was a messy person. She screamed in laughter, trying to fight back. “So I make a mess of things, eh?” he said laughing, trying to kiss her neck, which made her scream with laughter all the more.

Deedra got up and tried to save her mother from this onslaught of tickling, but they were no match for him. With an unwilling kick from her mothers legs, they all wound up rolling around on the floor, laughing, food spilled across the table and some on the floor.

He took them both into his embrace and hugged them and kissed them.

“I love you both so much that I would fade away in an instant if I lost you” he said to them.

—

It had been a hard day's work, but everything was ready for tomorrow. The cart was filled to the brim with baskets and crates. 34 baskets alone for Master Fremdon alone took up the majority of the space, 12 pounds each, but also a wide selection of other vegetables and herbs to sell.

Deedra had been exhausted, as her father carried her on his shoulders back to the house, after finishing up, Zul’Tekt low on the sky, but still beaming down light and warmth.

Her mother had drawn her a warm bath, which she went into with delight, enjoying the soothing warm water. Deedra wanted to spend more time in the bath, but she was tired and crawled out of the warm water and into the soft embrace of her mother, who was holding a blanket ready for her.

After quickly drying off and putting on her freshly washed nightgown, she went over to her father, who sat in front of the hearth, humming songs. He lifted her up onto his lap, where she leaned into his chest and looked at the fire with him.

“Pappi? Will you tell me the story of the evil witch and the kind soldier that saved her?” she asked, ending with a yawn.

“That old story?” he said, chuckling “I must have told you that one at least a hundred times by now. I know you know it by heart.”

“But it is much better when you tell it” she protested softly, yawning once again.

Giving her a soft kiss on the top of her still wet hair, he started the tale. “Long ago, in a land far away, there lived an evil witch Or at least, many found her to be evil. She ruled a cursed land that none dared venture into, called The Winter Marshes. Many a king had sent vast armies to her door to vanquish her, but none could, all of them fell to her unparalleled magic.

So strong was she, that she could even command the dead, raising them to become her own army, sending back the dead soldiers to where they came from.”

“I think I will retire to the bed,” Deedra’s mother said, putting a log of wood on the fire, then kissing her cheek. “Sleep well, my little blessing.” she said, as she left them and closed the door behind her.

“Please, pappi, tell me more.” Deedra said, eyes closed, sleep steadily taking hold of her.

“For a century, or more” her father continued, voice deep and softly rumbling “she lived in these cursed marshes, alone and isolated, feared by all.

But one day, a soldier, a single man, lost his group as they were escorting a diplomat from one kingdom to another. They were attacked by bandits, one of which used magic to kill many in a single attack. He had been left for dead, but fate had plans for him still. Not knowing the lands he was passing through, he started to walk and soon had crossed into witches marsh.

Night fell upon him soon enough and he lit a fire to both keep warm, heat some food and to keep all the predators at bay that were regarding him with keen interest.

As he sat there, he sang songs about lost love, broken and mended hearts and growing old together.

What the young soldier did not know was that the witch could see his small fire from her keep. Curious, she spied on him, using her magic. Seeing the single soldier, she was about to strike out and kill him, but his songs made her stay her hand, tugging on heartstrings that she had forgotten she had.

Instead, she moved herself closer to the lone soldier, using her magic. And for a short while, she stood there, hidden in the shadows, listening to his deep voice, singing many songs.

Then, something that had not happened in a long time, a single tear fell from her cheek. She wanted to talk to this either very brave or very dumb soldier.

‘May I join you at your fire, Man at Arms?’ she asked, her voice soft and gentle, as she stepped into the light.

Now, the soldier had been so entrenched in his own thoughts, that the sudden appearance of her made him jump and fall backwards off the log he was sitting on, legs now pointing toward the sky and arms flailing to find a hold.

Such a silly sight to her, it made her laugh for the first time in decades.

After finding stable footing and getting himself up, he looked at the young woman standing there, beautiful and delicate, with long black hair and eyes that shone like precious stones, reflecting the world around them.

Clearing his throat, he said ‘Young miss, I must insist that you stay at the fire tonight! It is not safe to travel alone here, when it is dark’.

She gave him a polite smile and found a seat on a log, close to the fire, as he too sat back down. He shared what little food he had with her and they talked. All throughout the night.

His eyes were filled with compassion and warmth, making her heart long to be forever close to them. She could not detect any deceit or malice from him, nor any kind of bewitching magic. He was just a man, not knowing who he was talking to.

He in turn, had been struck deeply in his heart. He knew from the moment he saw her, that here was a woman, that he would lay down his life to protect. Yes, she felt cold, but it was a sad kind of coldness, the kind that arises when you have been abused, hurt deeply and have become an outcast from everywhere.

He would not, nay, could not treat her like that! He would show her compassion and love.”

Wrenrik paused to see if Deedra had fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady. He was just about to slowly lift her up to place her in her bed, but the movement made her stir.

“Then what happened pappi?” she said, clearly not fully awake.

Letting out a sigh, smiling and kissing her on the top of her nearly dry hair, he continued.

“As morning broke over the marsh, the marsh itself seemed to have changed, becoming lighter, not as dark as it was the day before. The witch told him of a route to get safely across the lands and to meet with her at a very old tree, two days from that day. She would leave the marsh, that had been her home and domain for nearly two centuries, to come with him.

He followed the path she had given him, making it safely to a very large tree that marked the end of her domain. And true to her word, she came just as Zul’Tekt was setting, carrying only a few things. Among them, her tome, containing all of her knowledge, the things she had learned and made.

She feared for it to fall in the wrong hands, but bound in the skin from a Greater Deamagok and warded with powerful magic, not even she could destroy it. She would keep it hidden and locked away from those not of her blood.

That evening, they set off, to make a new life together, away from their past lives.”

Deedra had fully fallen asleep in her fathers arms. He gently got up and placed her in her bed, kissed her cheek and hoped the Gods would bless her each and every day.

Wrenrik tossed a few logs on the fire in the hearth, before he made his way into the bedroom, where his beloved wife was waiting for him. He found her sitting up in the bed, writing in her journal by the dim light of the oil lamp.

He stood there a bit, just taking in the sight of her, as she sat there, deep in thought, writing. He knew it helped her with her nightmares, a repentance for her past life, before him, before Deedra.

He took off his clothes, laid it on the chest at the foot of the bed and got under the covers with her, giving her a long soft kiss on her shoulder, his beard tickling her and making her turn her head to face him, giving him a loving kiss on the top of his head in return.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes for a few moments, enjoying the love they felt for one another.

She then looked away with a solemn expression on her face.

“Wren, I have been thinking…” she started, before biting her lip, seizing up. “What is it, my delicate winter blossom?” he asked, gently turning her head to face him with a strong hand on her cheek. “She is turning 12 the day after tomorrow and I think she needs to know of her heritage. I can feel her essence is strong and growing stronger by the day. I think it might manifest unwillingly if she is not taught to control it…” she trailed off, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Hey, listen now,” he said to her, as he softly pushed away her journal and drew her in to hold her tight, “you made a pact, but that does not mean you cannot teach her yourself, as long as you are very careful. I trust you and know you can do it safely, for the both of you.”

She cried silently into his bare chest, hugging him as hard as she could.

------

From today, I will be aiming to post a chapter every 2 weeks, on Thursdays or Fridays. This gives me a buffer with what I have now, allowing me to take it easy, space and time for unforeseen events and not burning myself out, even though I have so much more just filling up my mind. Thank you for reading and I hope it you like it

Hi all you lovely people out there in the wide world!

So, except for the finishing polish, chapters 1 to 3 are done, working on 4 and 5 side by side, which should be done no later than mid next week. But here is the question: Would you prefer the chapters drip-wise or have it all to read in one massive chunk?

So, I got this post on my lemmy client on android and wanted to reply, but I don't see how. I see it's been posted in [email protected] and I can navigate here, but I can't see anything but two posts, none of which contains that one I linked.

So... anyone know what's going on?

"The ambassador of the human civilisation will speak now."

On the call of these words a human walked up to the speaker’s podium in the Hall of Representatives. A thousand eyes - or whatever biological equivalent the many different species had - were on her from other ambassadors on the seats that arched upwards in many rows. Representative Harknethos was among them. The civilisation he spoke for was a late member and he was only the third one after the ambassador that had handled the initiation into the Commonwealth. So he knew exactly how this would play out. And he also knew that hundreds of billions of beings were watching the live transmission from thousands of planets across the Commonwealth for it was the very first official appearance of this new species.

The aged human looked tired and disheveled, seemingly badly prepared for the task of speaking on behalf of her people. The only thing not making her appear disrespectful was that she actually had an ambassadors cloth draped over her shoulders, the long and slim piece barely adorned with just a few additional lines of colorful yarn.

"Honoured ambassadors, representatives of all the species in the Galactic Commonwealth", she spoke the greeting in a clear and ringing voice. Surprisingly she used the common language, had the humans been this fast to learn it? It had caused a low murmur amongst the other ambassadors, but it quickly died down once the human continued.

"My name is Valentina Fedorovna and I am the chosen representative of all beings living in the human civilisation. I am sorry that the proper delegation was unable to appear on the short notice we were given. We did give up expecting an invitation many cycles ago. As the civil servant in closest proximity I am now speaking in their stead, though I certainly do not bring the soft diplomatic touch of my colleagues."

The obvious rudeness of the human caused a number of the present beings to make various noises of disagreement. This was not the way these things should go, she should have been begging for membership. It also seemed the dossier on the humans had been quite wrong - it stated that their species were only known since very recently. Meanwhile, the human just went on, ignoring any of the signs of mild protest.

"Thirty cycles ago we made first contact to the Niowemar people. They had once been, as you surely are aware, a member species of your Commonwealth until they were exiled from their own planet and barred from the travel nodes. A flotilla of their refugee ships had made its way across the stars with sublight engines in search of a new home. The only one to arrive had carried fifteen million beings.

“I am certain you know how lifeforms handle cosmic radiation over longer than one generation. I am certain I do not have to tell you of the state they were in. We were unable to save half of them, but the rest we gave a home on our planet.

“They told us about the way conflicts were handled in the Galactic Commonwealth. They told us about the so-called deathless wars. And they told us what happened to the ones subjugated by the victors. We tried to contact you then, honoured ambassadors. In lieu of hearing your side, we took what we learned for the truth. Know, that I am speaking for the Niowemar now too."

Over the last part there were quite loud cries of disagreement. One ambassador especially was calling for the human speaker to be cut off - Harknethos identified them as a member of the people that had instigated the conflict against the Niowemar. Of course there had to be rules to the proceedings and the human still had time, so order was called and the noise died down again. But - thirty cycles? So long had the humans been known already and they did not get to speak until now?

"The last refugee ship had carried something exceptionally precious with it besides the many lives - the knowledge to create a hyperspace connection node. Two cycles later we had been successful in creating a stable one. I know you are aware of its limitations, but we were not.

“We had tried to contact you many times then, honoured ambassadors. And without guidance, we had to revert to experimentation. In the process we lost many ships and a number of lives only to learn that it is impossible to establish a connection to any other node from just one side.

“This cut off from travel seemed deliberate and together with the communication silence it gave us the impression that the Commonwealth were trying to isolate us. Seeing that our node could only serve as an end point, we transmitted an open invitation for refugees of the Niowemar and anyone else displaced from their home."

More calls for order - these accusations were very serious and a number of ambassadors seemed to not want to wait for their turn to speak. It did sound unbelievable though, this pre-FTL species just build a feasible connection into the hyperspace network of the Commonwealth from merely theoretical second-hand knowledge? One thing was for sure, that dossier about them was worthless. Harknethos and probably a large number of the other ambassadors had been left in the dark about the recent history of that species. It was also obvious that the humans were crazy - to broadly call for anyone to just come to their underdeveloped world spelled suicide.

"We underestimated the number of species that were robbed of their planet or enslaved on it, and we saw a large influx of arrivals. By then we had stopped asking you for anything, honoured ambassadors, though we still needed help in ensuring order and safety. So we were actually lucky that the first larger group to show up was a fleet of Ja'kartii pirates.

“We welcomed them and offered them a home. They merely wanted us to spare their children from having to grow in the confines of a spaceship, and in turn patrolled the hyperspace node promising to protect anyone coming with peaceful intentions.

“I am certain you learned the force of their railguns, honoured ambassadors, when you sent one spy-ship after the other. Just know, that the Ja'kartii too found a home with us and I am also speaking for them."

The noise had gotten ridiculous. Even the call for order had not been enough to silence some, but the human just spoke on, raising her ringing voice over the commotion.

"Working with the people that followed our invitation, we colonized another planet and two moons in our own solar system, before we made landfall in two neighboring ones. These hyperspace nodes we were able to connect to the one near our home planet that still had new ships arriving every day.

“We saw more pirates too, most of them not as benevolent as the Ja'kartii, and some of them only pretending to be pirates. You must surely know about the latter. We observed those and the constant spy-ships to be the only sort of communication from the Commonwealth until the invitation to this very event, which I can only assume had to be in error.

“I want you to understand, honoured ambassadors, that I am speaking for sixty-five billion beings across Earth, Mars, Titan, Europa, Boru and Laetillia. I am speaking for fifteen species that are now our equals in the human civilisation. I am not here to ask for membership to your Commonwealth. I am not here to ask for anything at all. I am merely here to state our invitation to every sapient being in the galaxy."

Across the chaos that unfolded through the Hall of Representatives boomed the humans voice: "Give me your tired, your poor; your huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me; I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

--- Cheers. I came over to Lemmy from r/HFY. Can't not post one of my personal favourites.

There's also a narration available done by KnightTime Audio Narration.

Hi all,

Reddit refugee here. I've been following hfy for a number of years and am invested quite heavily in a number of stories. I usually read on mobile on my lunch break, but with rif going and the shocking app it's replaced with I can no longer do so - just log in via computer every week or so to catch up.

What I am interested in is seeing if any coders here are able to make a bot that pulls ongoing stories from r/hfy when they are updated (first contact, TFTR.etc) and ask the authors if they are ok with it being automatically posted to lemmy as well?

It had been a hard day's work, but everything was ready for tomorrow. The cart was filled to the brim with baskets and crates. 34 baskets alone for Master Fremdon alone took up the majority of the space, 12 pounds each, but also a wide selection of other vegetables and herbs to sell

Deedra had been exhausted, as her father carried her on his shoulders back to the house, after finishing up, Zul’Tekt low on the sky, but still beaming down light and warmth.

Her mother had drawn her a warm bath, which she went into with delight, enjoying the soothing warm water. Deedra wanted to spend more time in the bath, but she was tired and crawled out of the warm water and into the soft embrace of her mother, who was holding a blanket ready for her.

After quickly drying off and putting on her nightgown, she went over to her father sitting at the hearth and he lifted her up onto his lap, where she leaned into his chest and looked at the fire with him.

“Pappi? Will you tell me the story of the evil witch and the kind soldier that saved her?” she asked, ending with a yawn.

“That old story?” he said, chuckling “I must have told you that one at least a hundred times by now. I know you know it by heart.”

“But it is much better when you tell it” she protested softly, yawning once again.

Giving her a soft kiss on the top of her still wet hair, he started the tale. “Long ago, in a land far away, there lived an evil witch. She ruled a cursed land that none dared venture into, called The Winter Marshes. Many a king had sent vast armies to her door to vanquish her, but none could, all of them fell to her unparalleled magic.

So strong was she, that she could even command the dead, raising them to become her own army, striking down the kingdoms that dared to challenge her.”

“I think I will retire to the bed,” Deedra’s mother said, putting a log of wood on the fire, then kissing her cheek. “Sleep well, my little blessing.” she said, as she left them and closed the door behind her.

“Please, pappi, tell me more.” Deedra said, eyes closed, sleep slowly taking hold of her.

“For a century, or more” her father continued, voice deep and softly rumbling “she lived in these cursed marshes, alone and isolated, feared by all.

But one day, a soldier, a single man, got lost from his group that was escorting a diplomat from one kingdom to another. They were attacked by bandits, one of which used magic to kill many in a single attack. He had been left for dead, but fate had plans for him still. Not knowing the lands he was passing through, he started to walk and soon had crossed into witches marsh.

Night fell upon him soon enough and he lit a fire to both keep warm, heat some food and to keep all the predators at bay that were regarding him with interest.

As he sat there, he sang some songs about lost love, mended hearts and growing old together.

What the young soldier did not know was that the witch could see his small fire from her keep. Curious, she spied on him, using her magic. Seeing the single soldier, she was about to strike out and kill him, but his songs made her stay her hand, tugging on her heartstrings that she did not know she had.

Instead, she moved herself closer to the lone soldier, using her magic. And for a short while, she stood there, hidden in the shadows, listening to his deep voice, singing many songs.

Then, something that had not happened in a long time, a single tear fell from her cheek. She wanted to talk to this either very brave or very dumb soldier.

‘May I join you at your fire, man at arms?’ she asked, her voice soft and gentle, as she stepped into the light.

Now, the soldier had been so entrenched in his own mind, that the sudden appearance of her made him jump and fall backwards of the log he was sitting on, legs now pointing toward the sky and arms flailing to find a hold.

Such a silly sight to her, it made her laugh for the first time in decades.

After finding stable footing and getting himself up, he looked at the young woman standing there, beautiful and delicate, with long black hair and eyes that shone like precious stones, reflecting the world around them.

He then cleared his throat and said ‘Young miss, I must insist that you stay at the fire tonight! It is not safe to travel alone here, when it is dark’.

She smiled at him and found a seat on a log, close to the fire, as he too sat back down. He shared what little food he had with her and they talked. All night long.

His eyes were filled with compassion and warmth, making her heart long to be forever close to them. She could not detect any deceit or malice from him, nor any kind of bewitching magic. He was just a man, not knowing who he was talking to.

He in turn, had been struck deeply in his heart. He knew from the moment he saw her, that here was a woman, that he would lay down his life to protect. Yes, she felt cold, but it was the kind of coldness that arises when you have been abused, hurt deeply and had become an outcast from everywhere.

He would not, nay, could not treat her like that! He would show her compassion and love.”

Wrenrik paused to see if Deedra had fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady. He was just about to slowly lift her up to place her in her bed, but the movement made her stir.

“Then what happened pappi?” she said, clearly not fully awake.

Letting out a sigh, smiling and kissing her on the top of her nearly dry hair, he continued.

“As morning broke over the marsh, the marsh seemed different, not as dark as it was the day before. The witch told him of a route to get safely across and to meet with her at a very old tree, two days from that day. She would leave the marsh, that had been her home and domain for nearly two centuries, to come with him and become better.

He followed the path she had given him, making it safely to a very large tree that marked the end of her domain. And true to her word, she came just as Zul’Tekt was setting, carrying only a few things. Among them, her tome, containing all of her knowledge, the things she had learned and made.

She feared for it to fall in the wrong hands, but bound in the skin from a Greater Deamagok and warded with powerful magic, not even she could destroy it. She would keep it hidden and locked away from those not of her blood.

That evening, they set off together, to make a new life together, away from their past lives.”

Deedra had fully fallen asleep in her fathers arms. He gently got up and placed her in her bed, kissed her cheek and hoped the Gods would bless her each and every day.

Wrenrik tossed a few logs on the fire in the hearth, before he made his way into the bedroom, where his beloved wife was waiting for him. He found her sitting up in the bed, writing in her journal by the dim light of the oil lamp.

He stood there a bit, just taking in the sight of her, as she sat there, deep in thought, writing. He knew it helped her with her nightmares, a repentance for her past life, before him and Deedra.

He took off his clothes, laid it on the chest at the foot of the bed and got under the covers with her, giving her a soft kiss on her shoulder, his beard tickling her and making her turn her head to face him, giving him a loving kiss on the top of his head in return.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes for a few moments, love overflowing from them to one another.

She then looked away with a solemn expression on her face.

“Wren, I have been thinking…” she started, before biting her lip, seizing up. “What is it, my delicate winter blossom?” he asked, gently turning her head to face him with a strong hand on her cheek. “She is turning 12 the day after tomorrow and I think she needs to know of her heritage. I can feel her essence is strong and growing stronger by the day. I think it might manifest unwillingly if she is not taught to control it…” she trailed off, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Hey, listen now,” he said to her, as he softly pushed away her journal and drew her in to hold her tight, “you made a pact, but that does not mean you cannot teach her yourself, as long as you are very careful. I trust you and know you can do it safely, for the both of you.”

She sobbed softly into his bare chest, hugging him as hard as she could.

Part - 1

Entry Eleven

Disaster! One of the probes that the humans use to drag the ores they extract from their asteroid belts slammed into our ship today! Our forcefields held, but the drone was wrecked beyond repair, and the asteroid deflected towards Earth! It now moves only a few times faster than the speed of sound, leisurely by space travel standards, but it is colossal. It will depopulate the part of the planet it hits, surely. I am told that the probes and ore-haulers use a computer guidance system to slip into Earth orbital slots with their payloads, where the ores are removed by the pace and need that the human construction schedule dictates. If we had not been in the path of these probes, this would have never happened! The humans provided us with a copy of the ore haulers’ schedules to avoid just such a calamity! How did this happen?! What will happen to Earth?!

Entry Twelve

We have come to a conclusion. The crew and diplomatic staff have decided that we will divert the asteroid into the Earth’s sun, using our own ship to provide the stopping mechanism. Our fields are not recharged; the impact will kill us.

We are not committing lightly, fully half the crew said that we should abandon the humans to their fate and continue on negotiating, some of the rest said that we should do all that we can without destroying ourselves, but I and the Ambassador disagree. We did this. Our misgivings about their technological level aside, the humans should not be driven to near-extinction by their own first contact

Bizarrely enough, all is well. The asteroid nearly hit the planet when the humans took matters into their own hands. We had maneuvered our ship into the path of the asteroid, ready to deflect the massive thing with our own ship, if need be. We did this. This was our fault. Except, the human diplomats were frantic, demanding that we move the ship at once. We were baffled. We were offering to solve the problem we had caused, so why were the humans demanding that we did not? They beseeched us to move, to let the asteroid move along its own path, directly towards the planet, saying that we did not deserve to suffer, to bear the brunt of this calamity.

Finally, we gave in, and moved out of the course of the asteroid. We were watching what we thought would be the end of the Earth below…but we were wrong. A blast appeared near the asteroid, and we realized what was happening: the humans had detonated a nuclear device in the asteroid’s path to divert it. Not destroy it, no, but divert it. A few dozen of their own drone craft slammed into the side of the asteroid which had just been hit by the bomb, propelling it into near-Earth orbit.

The human ambassador actually took me aside and explained that they had a contingency set aside for just such a catastrophe, dating back to when they had first created the mining drone and ore hauler network. He told me that the technology they had first employed to create the interplanetary ore haulers had originally been far more primitive, and unable to precisely calculate the appropriate course and speed to get the asteroids safely back to Earth.

The Asteroid Diversion weapons and drones had been created to reduce any risk. In total shock, I asked why they had done this, and almost as importantly, why they had been willing to risk such a mining venture if they knew such a potential problem existed. “Necessity is the mother of invention,” he replied.

Entry Thirteen

Fifty days have passed since the asteroid incident, and the human’s reaction has been alarming. Civilian populations – and not a few military – across the system are clamoring for attention, some demanding that the human diplomats apologize for what “they” have done – as if the humans caused this! – others demanding that we suffer for this transgression, others yet launching into wild speculation. Above it all, the human ambassador has changed the tack of these negotiations completely. Now, all he seems to ask about is the justice systems of the galaxy, where before he has inquired about everything from laws restricting invasive plant species in agriculture to FTL drives to the origins of our linguistic colloquialisms.

When asked what his official stance about the asteroid incident will be, by other members of his own species who are not part of his delegation, he replies cryptically. “Patience is a virtue.” “Never close doors you can not open.” “Invite no conflict where none exists.” “Yellow is most flavorful.” I have no idea what the last one means. Perhaps our translators are not as capable of translating euphemisms as we thought.

Regarding the possession of the nuclear devices they employed to divert the asteroid, he has hastened – quite uninvited – to assure us that it has been over a century and half since any nuclear device was used in war. This assuages my fears somewhat, especially since we discreetly scanned the complex on the planet’s surface that launched the “nuke” and found that even the most powerful of these devices is little more than six times the effective power of the ones they employed: strong enough to damage our fields, surely, but nowhere near enough to destroy us outright. But I should not be thinking of these potential new friends as potential new enemies, as he himself says.

Entry Fourteen

Again, I am amazed by the humans’ ability to ignore trouble. It is now two hundred fifty days after first contact, and the human media has actually greatly reduced their mention of us, and the asteroid incident. They are now beginning to return to what I am told (with vast disgust, interestingly) by the human ambassador is the norm for their media: music, banal daily news, and what I think may be some form of medical treatment, aimed at those who suffer reproductive isolation.

The fact that, in less than a year, the human species has been exposed to alien life and nearly been wiped out by the carelessness of said life seems to have been absorbed by the population with a genuinely amazing degree of blasé acceptance. I understand we will be going on a tour of Earth itself, tomorrow, though in full body-suits, naturally. We will have to be. Their atmosphere is breathable, of course, but their sun is so much more radioactive than ours in the spectra of ultraviolet and radio that to not wear suits would be downright stupid.

Entry Fifteen

What in the world are these humans doing without their own FTL drives?! I returned from a ten-day tour of their homeworld today, and I can say with certainty that I have never been more unnerved. These humans possess, I knew, massive space stations, tightly packed with their own, and their non-Earth colonies were barely at the level where abundant food could be harvested. I had made, naturally, the same assumption that the Ambassador did when we saw these places: that these were criminals being made to suffer, or volunteers who chose to live in these awful conditions because they had literally no choice, or the infirm and weak, who could be sheltered in a completely artificial environment because their homeworld was too harsh for them in some way.

What I discovered is that Earth is, if anything, nearly as badly overpopulated in its capitals and trade hubs as it is in their colonies and space stations! I saw towers of apartments, some with over two thousand people living in them, stacked so close together they looked like rows of molecules in a crystal, and the people there seemed as if this was the norm! The leaders and visionaries and great speakers of humanity spoke and feted and recited prepared lines, but I heard none of it.

These people are not a people in true squalor, not really, certainly not by their own standards, but I hear tell of truly shocking slums in the cities of the poorer continents. It seems a disparity of wealth and power exists here, and I am unnerved deeply. A population this large achieving the great works of their peoples, like the ore haulers and orbital platforms, is not impossible…but only a tiny fraction of their people are wealthy enough to have done it. A small percentage… without FTL.

__________________________________________________

Will be continued...

Thanks to u/Prohibitorum for original transcription. Original Image