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2024.05.17 00:28 Juzabro Forge of Darkness Chapter 3 Summary
Chapter 3
Location: Somewhere outside of Tiste lands the northernmost Jaghut keep
POV: Korya Delath
Korya Delath is hostage to Haut, a Jaghut. Korya is of the lesser house Delack in the tiste settlement Abara. From the aerie in the keep she can see the contested lands, which have nothing to contest about them. Haut keeps her isolated and forbids her from leaving the keep. He does not quite understand the idea of hostages and took it upon himself to educate Korya. He is harsh. Korya spent a lot of time in the Aerie pretending to be a goddess to her dolls. Now those dolls are kept in boxes.
She is alarmed by a group of Jheleck approaching the keep defying the prohibitions for crossing into Jaghut territory, even though they no longer claim any territory. The Jheleck are said to be kin to the Jheck of the far south, but much larger. They were the size of warhorses and possessed a sorcery she knew only as Soletaken. Although she doesn't know what that means. She sees Haut open the gate in his full armor. She had no idea he had any martial proclivities. The Jheleck blur and in their place stand several warriors. Haut yells up at her that they have guests.
Haut has no one in his household but him and Korya. He is capable of conjuring food and drink through sorcery, but prefers not to. Korya learned how to make food, chop wood, and mend clothes in the absence of servants. She thinks that he dislikes the company of people and that is why they are alone. Although she does not understand why he agreed to take her as hostage if that is the case. Jaghut used to live in cities until they came upon the realization that civilization is "economic suicide". Resources are not infinite, but a civilization can try to be. "There was nothing so deadly as success."- Haut. The Lord of Hate is the one who exposed this truth to the Jaghut and because of it they live solitary lives and no longer try to build up their civilization.
The Jheleck brought freshly killed meat with them and in Haut's main hall ate it raw. Haut joins in. Korya is put off balance by this, but studies the scene to attempt to make sense of the gathering. The Jheleck speak the Jaghut language, as does Korya. They call Haut Captain and Haut warns them not to anger Korya. He has never seen her angry, but continues to try to bring it out of her by being harsh. After several jokes about her, Korya asks to be excused and is surprised to hear that it's not possible as the Jheleck are here for her. Korya is very confused.
The Jheleck call Haut Captain, but hostages aren't given to soldiers only noble families. The Jheleck bring up that Haut has no army or houseblades. This is somewhat of a threat. Haut responds by saying that he needs no armies. The Jaghut just destroy their enemies. When Jheleck would raid Jaghut lands, the Jaghut would kill some of them and drive them off, however if they came in greater numbers then the Jaghut would then stop playing nice. They want to return Korya to her home. In their defeat the Jheleck signed a treaty that demands hostages from the Jheleck to the Tiste. They are trying to return Korya to fulfill that treaty. Haut says it does not work that way. Sagral gets angry and demands that Korya leave with them. She doesn't want to and says, "Does this one need a leash?" The joke diffuses the situation.
The tiste have asked for 50 Jheleck hostages. The Jheleck are worried due to the rumors of civil war. Haut tells them that hostages are sacrosanct in war. The Jheleck sense that Korya is empty and is not a child of Mother Dark. Haut confirms this and says he has fashioned a mahybe. "A vessel. Protected, sealed and, as you say, empty. What remains to be done? Why, its filling, of course" Haut dismisses the Jheleck and says if they don't leave he may just kill them all. They, shaken by this and depart.
Location: House of Delack
POV: Lady Nerys Drukorlat
Lady Nerys Drukorlat looks upon her grandson Orfantal as he plays in the dirt. She wishes to end his childhood as soon as possible so he can learn to be the heir of the failing house of Delack and return it to glory. Orfantal is a bastard. Lady Nerys knows that isn't his fault. She recalls a quote from Gallan's latest work, "The wounded will wound / and every hurt is remembered." She looks at his work as revealing unpleasant truths about the Tiste. Others do not. When Orfantal plays at being in war, his play always ends with an unseen betrayer killing him from behind. She blames soldiers returning from war. "Veterans returned home with all illusions scoured from their eyes, their minds. They looked out from a different place, but there was nothing healthy in that, nothing worthy." Lady Nerys's husband was one such soldier. Who upon a heroic return confessed the above to his wife before killing himself and leaving his house in shame.
Another soldier who lost his arm from a horse bite had found Sandalath Drukorlat, Lady Nerys's daughter, and seduced her resulting in the birth of Orfantal. Once Lady Nerys had discovered this, she paid him to never see his son or Sandalath ever again. He accepted. Sandalath though older and having already been a hostage, is now to be a hostage again to her dismay. Her mother will not allow her to say goodbye to her son. Her first stint as a hostage was with House Purake, this time it will be with House Dracons. Orfantal is to go to Kharkanas and be in the retinue of the House of Purake. Not a hostage. Ivis has arrived at House Delack to retrieve Sandalath. She enters the carriage and they depart.
POV: Orfantal
Orfantal watched his mother's carriage leave. He doesn't like to see people cry and tries to prevent it from happening. He understands that, "There were wars and that’s all there was, and every day he died, taken by that knife that followed him across the whole world, just as it had done to his grandfather."
POV: Sandalath
Sandalath thought she saw Orfantal by the stables as her carriage moved away, but she is not confident in what her mind sees so is uncertain. It's very hot in the carriage, but because her mother has instilled in her the virtue of not causing a scene she does not ask the driver to open a window. She fondly recalls her time as hostage in the citadel with the Purake brothers. Always feeling safe with them and loving them each in turn. Well maybe not Silchas. The war took the brothers and their father away and when the father returned broken she began to fear that the brothers would die. House Drukorlas had been devastated by the war and was now in poverty.
Galdan was the one-armed soldier who spoke of a romantic and adventurous war and Sandalath had relayed these stories to her son. Lady Nerys had told her daughter that she had exiled Galdan to Jaghut lands and he had died. Sandalath told her son that Galdan died from a betrayal while he defended his wounded lord. As the carriage trundled through the village, Sandalath thought she saw Galdan, but attributed it to the heat in the carriage. She passed out from the heat and the carriage stopped.
POV: Ivis
Ivis enters the carriage and pulls an unconscious Sandalath out. If Sandalath dies in House Dracons care, other families would use it as an excuse to gain advantage over Draconus. Ivis pays the carriage driver to take off and threatens him with death if this story gets out. Ivis's men get Sandalath's strongbox open. Not sure why maybe to see if she has lighter clothes, but discover that it is filled with jars of river stones from the Dorssan Ryl. It was a way to avow love for another person. Give them a stone from the Dorssan Ryl.
Sandalath wakes up and notices that many layers of her clothing have been removed and that Ivis has the key to her strongbox that is usually around her neck. Ivis lies and says it was constricting her neck and that no one looked in the strongbox although it is very heavy. He says he has a daughter and that he knows young women have a lot of toiletries.
POV: Galdan
"Proper men had two arms for good reason. One to reach for things, the other to keep things away. Galdan had lost the arm that kept things away" This applied to the drink and to Sandalath. After she had been taken away from him he began leaving stones for her in their secret places. He assumed she threw them away.
Location: Outskirts of Hust Forge
POV: Galar Baras
Galar Baras contemplating the Forulkan reveals that their priests were called Assail. "Peace did not serve order; order served peace" The Forulkan worshipped order and confused it for peace and justice. Order became a prison and those who sought freedom became the enemy. The south borderswords were the first to fight the Forulkan and they became the Hust legion. Hust swords had a fearful heartline that was reinforced by the forgemasters. This heartline gives the blades their voice. Galar Baras is obsessed with Hust swords and believes they are an expression of a unique sorcery. After the borderswords had defended the Hust forge from a Forulkan assault, Hust Henarald had rewarded them with Hust blades.
Galar Baras is riding with the commander of the Purake houseblades, Kellaras. When Nimander returned from war and Mother Dark had blessed him and his house for its service, House Purake turned over it's lands to Mother dark and became her vassals. They now took the name Andii, Children of Night. Anomander and house Purake were the first to relieve the borderswords in the battle of the forge and Anomander bestowed great honor upon them by going to their commander Toras Redone and clasping her forearm. From that day the borderswords consider themselves Andiian, sons and daughters of night. This sent a fracture between Urusander's legion and the Hust legion.
In a drunken comment Toras Redone had told Galar Baras that "Peace had become a disaster". Galar is unable to drink alcohol. That night they became lovers. The next day they were not brave enough to continue. Soon after she had sent Galar to Kharkanas to be the Hust legion's representative in the city. Toras is married to Calat Hustain, the man who had given Galar his hust sword. Calat had accepted the command of the wardens and was now far away from his wife. After a miserably lengthy time within the citadel, Galar was now returning to Hust forge both anticipating and dreading seeing the woman he loved.
POV: Kellaras
Kellaras and Galar Baras do not talk much and Kellaras has been told by the members of Urusander's legion in the citadel that Hust swords poison their owners. He's starting to believe it. Galar Baras was not liked in the Citadel. He did not mix with others and remained a mystery to most of them. Kellaras had been given a message to take to Hust Henarald by Anomander. Galar Baras insisted on escorting him to the Hust Legion. Kellaras took this as an insult. He required no escort. Out of the blue Galar Baras asks him a question about the urgency of the message. Kellaras takes it as an opportunity to ask why he insisted on the escort. Galar Baras confides in him that he just wanted to get out of the citadel and felt crushed by it. Kellaras takes this to heart and orders him to continue to escort him so he will not have to return to the citadel. Kellaras now confides in Galar Baras that Anomander intends to commission a sword from Henarald Hust.
submitted by Juzabro to Malazan [link] [comments]
Location: Somewhere outside of Tiste lands the northernmost Jaghut keep
POV: Korya Delath
Korya Delath is hostage to Haut, a Jaghut. Korya is of the lesser house Delack in the tiste settlement Abara. From the aerie in the keep she can see the contested lands, which have nothing to contest about them. Haut keeps her isolated and forbids her from leaving the keep. He does not quite understand the idea of hostages and took it upon himself to educate Korya. He is harsh. Korya spent a lot of time in the Aerie pretending to be a goddess to her dolls. Now those dolls are kept in boxes.
She is alarmed by a group of Jheleck approaching the keep defying the prohibitions for crossing into Jaghut territory, even though they no longer claim any territory. The Jheleck are said to be kin to the Jheck of the far south, but much larger. They were the size of warhorses and possessed a sorcery she knew only as Soletaken. Although she doesn't know what that means. She sees Haut open the gate in his full armor. She had no idea he had any martial proclivities. The Jheleck blur and in their place stand several warriors. Haut yells up at her that they have guests.
Haut has no one in his household but him and Korya. He is capable of conjuring food and drink through sorcery, but prefers not to. Korya learned how to make food, chop wood, and mend clothes in the absence of servants. She thinks that he dislikes the company of people and that is why they are alone. Although she does not understand why he agreed to take her as hostage if that is the case. Jaghut used to live in cities until they came upon the realization that civilization is "economic suicide". Resources are not infinite, but a civilization can try to be. "There was nothing so deadly as success."- Haut. The Lord of Hate is the one who exposed this truth to the Jaghut and because of it they live solitary lives and no longer try to build up their civilization.
The Jheleck brought freshly killed meat with them and in Haut's main hall ate it raw. Haut joins in. Korya is put off balance by this, but studies the scene to attempt to make sense of the gathering. The Jheleck speak the Jaghut language, as does Korya. They call Haut Captain and Haut warns them not to anger Korya. He has never seen her angry, but continues to try to bring it out of her by being harsh. After several jokes about her, Korya asks to be excused and is surprised to hear that it's not possible as the Jheleck are here for her. Korya is very confused.
The Jheleck call Haut Captain, but hostages aren't given to soldiers only noble families. The Jheleck bring up that Haut has no army or houseblades. This is somewhat of a threat. Haut responds by saying that he needs no armies. The Jaghut just destroy their enemies. When Jheleck would raid Jaghut lands, the Jaghut would kill some of them and drive them off, however if they came in greater numbers then the Jaghut would then stop playing nice. They want to return Korya to her home. In their defeat the Jheleck signed a treaty that demands hostages from the Jheleck to the Tiste. They are trying to return Korya to fulfill that treaty. Haut says it does not work that way. Sagral gets angry and demands that Korya leave with them. She doesn't want to and says, "Does this one need a leash?" The joke diffuses the situation.
The tiste have asked for 50 Jheleck hostages. The Jheleck are worried due to the rumors of civil war. Haut tells them that hostages are sacrosanct in war. The Jheleck sense that Korya is empty and is not a child of Mother Dark. Haut confirms this and says he has fashioned a mahybe. "A vessel. Protected, sealed and, as you say, empty. What remains to be done? Why, its filling, of course" Haut dismisses the Jheleck and says if they don't leave he may just kill them all. They, shaken by this and depart.
Location: House of Delack
POV: Lady Nerys Drukorlat
Lady Nerys Drukorlat looks upon her grandson Orfantal as he plays in the dirt. She wishes to end his childhood as soon as possible so he can learn to be the heir of the failing house of Delack and return it to glory. Orfantal is a bastard. Lady Nerys knows that isn't his fault. She recalls a quote from Gallan's latest work, "The wounded will wound / and every hurt is remembered." She looks at his work as revealing unpleasant truths about the Tiste. Others do not. When Orfantal plays at being in war, his play always ends with an unseen betrayer killing him from behind. She blames soldiers returning from war. "Veterans returned home with all illusions scoured from their eyes, their minds. They looked out from a different place, but there was nothing healthy in that, nothing worthy." Lady Nerys's husband was one such soldier. Who upon a heroic return confessed the above to his wife before killing himself and leaving his house in shame.
Another soldier who lost his arm from a horse bite had found Sandalath Drukorlat, Lady Nerys's daughter, and seduced her resulting in the birth of Orfantal. Once Lady Nerys had discovered this, she paid him to never see his son or Sandalath ever again. He accepted. Sandalath though older and having already been a hostage, is now to be a hostage again to her dismay. Her mother will not allow her to say goodbye to her son. Her first stint as a hostage was with House Purake, this time it will be with House Dracons. Orfantal is to go to Kharkanas and be in the retinue of the House of Purake. Not a hostage. Ivis has arrived at House Delack to retrieve Sandalath. She enters the carriage and they depart.
POV: Orfantal
Orfantal watched his mother's carriage leave. He doesn't like to see people cry and tries to prevent it from happening. He understands that, "There were wars and that’s all there was, and every day he died, taken by that knife that followed him across the whole world, just as it had done to his grandfather."
POV: Sandalath
Sandalath thought she saw Orfantal by the stables as her carriage moved away, but she is not confident in what her mind sees so is uncertain. It's very hot in the carriage, but because her mother has instilled in her the virtue of not causing a scene she does not ask the driver to open a window. She fondly recalls her time as hostage in the citadel with the Purake brothers. Always feeling safe with them and loving them each in turn. Well maybe not Silchas. The war took the brothers and their father away and when the father returned broken she began to fear that the brothers would die. House Drukorlas had been devastated by the war and was now in poverty.
Galdan was the one-armed soldier who spoke of a romantic and adventurous war and Sandalath had relayed these stories to her son. Lady Nerys had told her daughter that she had exiled Galdan to Jaghut lands and he had died. Sandalath told her son that Galdan died from a betrayal while he defended his wounded lord. As the carriage trundled through the village, Sandalath thought she saw Galdan, but attributed it to the heat in the carriage. She passed out from the heat and the carriage stopped.
POV: Ivis
Ivis enters the carriage and pulls an unconscious Sandalath out. If Sandalath dies in House Dracons care, other families would use it as an excuse to gain advantage over Draconus. Ivis pays the carriage driver to take off and threatens him with death if this story gets out. Ivis's men get Sandalath's strongbox open. Not sure why maybe to see if she has lighter clothes, but discover that it is filled with jars of river stones from the Dorssan Ryl. It was a way to avow love for another person. Give them a stone from the Dorssan Ryl.
Sandalath wakes up and notices that many layers of her clothing have been removed and that Ivis has the key to her strongbox that is usually around her neck. Ivis lies and says it was constricting her neck and that no one looked in the strongbox although it is very heavy. He says he has a daughter and that he knows young women have a lot of toiletries.
POV: Galdan
"Proper men had two arms for good reason. One to reach for things, the other to keep things away. Galdan had lost the arm that kept things away" This applied to the drink and to Sandalath. After she had been taken away from him he began leaving stones for her in their secret places. He assumed she threw them away.
Location: Outskirts of Hust Forge
POV: Galar Baras
Galar Baras contemplating the Forulkan reveals that their priests were called Assail. "Peace did not serve order; order served peace" The Forulkan worshipped order and confused it for peace and justice. Order became a prison and those who sought freedom became the enemy. The south borderswords were the first to fight the Forulkan and they became the Hust legion. Hust swords had a fearful heartline that was reinforced by the forgemasters. This heartline gives the blades their voice. Galar Baras is obsessed with Hust swords and believes they are an expression of a unique sorcery. After the borderswords had defended the Hust forge from a Forulkan assault, Hust Henarald had rewarded them with Hust blades.
Galar Baras is riding with the commander of the Purake houseblades, Kellaras. When Nimander returned from war and Mother Dark had blessed him and his house for its service, House Purake turned over it's lands to Mother dark and became her vassals. They now took the name Andii, Children of Night. Anomander and house Purake were the first to relieve the borderswords in the battle of the forge and Anomander bestowed great honor upon them by going to their commander Toras Redone and clasping her forearm. From that day the borderswords consider themselves Andiian, sons and daughters of night. This sent a fracture between Urusander's legion and the Hust legion.
In a drunken comment Toras Redone had told Galar Baras that "Peace had become a disaster". Galar is unable to drink alcohol. That night they became lovers. The next day they were not brave enough to continue. Soon after she had sent Galar to Kharkanas to be the Hust legion's representative in the city. Toras is married to Calat Hustain, the man who had given Galar his hust sword. Calat had accepted the command of the wardens and was now far away from his wife. After a miserably lengthy time within the citadel, Galar was now returning to Hust forge both anticipating and dreading seeing the woman he loved.
POV: Kellaras
Kellaras and Galar Baras do not talk much and Kellaras has been told by the members of Urusander's legion in the citadel that Hust swords poison their owners. He's starting to believe it. Galar Baras was not liked in the Citadel. He did not mix with others and remained a mystery to most of them. Kellaras had been given a message to take to Hust Henarald by Anomander. Galar Baras insisted on escorting him to the Hust Legion. Kellaras took this as an insult. He required no escort. Out of the blue Galar Baras asks him a question about the urgency of the message. Kellaras takes it as an opportunity to ask why he insisted on the escort. Galar Baras confides in him that he just wanted to get out of the citadel and felt crushed by it. Kellaras takes this to heart and orders him to continue to escort him so he will not have to return to the citadel. Kellaras now confides in Galar Baras that Anomander intends to commission a sword from Henarald Hust.
2024.05.16 23:52 Coyote_Havoc Gallóglaigh: Fáilte Abhaile
First Previous
"Arran of many stags, the sea strikes at her shoulders, companies of men can feed there, blue spears are reddend amongst her boulders. Merry hinds are on her hills, juicy berries are there for food, refreshing water in her streams, nuts in plenty in the wood."
-Agalllamh na senorach-
"Don't say goodbye, wish me luck and a swift return."
Sorcha's words echoed in Robert's head as he watched the transports race the local star into the sky. Robert was the last to leave the cargo bay, wanting to remain in her presence for as long as possible. It was childish now that he thought of it, but it had earned him a long, deep kiss and a promise she would come back to him soon.
The port where they had been dropped off was located on a cliff overlooking the sea, and the golden light of dawn was echoed on the incoming waves. Beyond the tarmac, grass and bushes grew unhindered and thin trees towered over the terminal. Robert led the 449th toward the building which was built to resemble something out of a story book. A faux thatch roof hung over white walls resembling rough hewn stone while a clocktower with a black slate roof rose from behind. It was a beautiful example of deceptive architecture to give a weary traveler a sense of tranquility. The main concourse radiated the same fairy tale charm with shops lining the interior between cobblestone walkways and a grassy area with long wooden benches under manicured alder trees.
To the casual observer it was a welcome distraction from the busy day to day worries of modern life, to the former convicts who were used to concrete, reinforced walls and armed guards it was heaven on earth. Robert's troops ignored the benches to lay in the soft grass, a luxury unaffordable to the soldier and the convict alike, drawing looks of curiosity from travelers as well as shop workers and Robert had to fight the urge to join his men in this simple pleasure. Finding a seat on a bench, he sufficed himself by running his left hand through the soft blades where the unit colors had been planted.
"How long have you all been fighting?" A stranger asked.
"Feels like forever." Robert replied feeling a pang of guilt at not telling the whole truth.
"Just passing through?" The stranger inquired.
"Here to stay, at least for a while I hope." Robert said.
The strangers face brightened and his eyes reflected the smile that he wore.
"Fáilte Abhaile Óglaigh," He said before continuing to his gate.
Gallóglaigh was the only word Robert knew in Gaelic, and it became apparent that he would have to learn quickly as other people took notice of the rag-tag unit relaxing in the grass. Gallóglaigh meant young soldier he surmised, so óglaigh probably meant soldier, but 'saighdiúir' as well as 'laoch' was also directed at him and his men. Laoch sounded bad, but the people who said it smiled and shook hands with him. 'Saighdear' sounded like 'saighdiúir' and he had no idea what 'ghaisgich' meant, but every face told them how happy they were to meet them. 'Tha gaol agan ort' and 'Is Breà liom tú' found their way to his troops, mostly from women and a number of them tried to pronounce the words themselves which caused more confusion and a few impromptu lessons on pronouncing the words followed by a kiss on the cheek or forehead.
Robert was seriously considering reigning in his troops when he heard a more familiar language from a weathered older man with an amused smile.
"May I assume you're Colonel Grant of the 449th?"
"Yes sir." Robert replied.
"Perfect, I'm your escort, Brian McMurray," he said, "whenever you're ready please follow me."
Robert was able to contain the enthusiasm of his rowdy batch of heathens before they could caused any trouble, to the further amusement of their escort, and they wove their way through the port with the expert guidance of Brian McMurray who led them to several busses waiting just outside the passenger entrance. Troops were filed onto four of the vehicles and Robert was guided to an open deck with his officers while the lower deck of the front vehicle would carry the remaining troops. Brian sat in the front and swiveled his seat around to address them.
"I do apologizefor not having an air transport to meet you, but the MacSweeney family was able to charter these coaches at the last minute." Brian said as the coaches began to move.
"MacSweeney?" Hobbs said under his breath.
"Shut up Cyrano." Robert ordered.
"It's alright Colonel," Brian said, "Yes Captain, Laird Collin MacSweeney, Governor of Arran. Have you heard about him before?"
Hobbs eyes grew wide and he shook his head to indicate he hadn't. Robert turned a shade of red, Jacob and Derrick had the common sense to hold their tounges. Thomas on the other hand...
"Collin MacSweeney, son of Aaron MacSweeney, current lord of the MacSweeney family. Descending from Suibhne O'Niall, chieftain of Argyll. Aaron MacSweeney, settled Arran with the last Gaelic speaking people from Ireland and Scotland in order to preserve their heritage."
"Thank you,Captain Reed." Robert said, half relieved Hobbs had been bailed out, and half curious how Thomas knew so damn much.
"Rather impressive summary I must say," Brian replied, "anywho, the languages you were having trouble with and the history of this world will be made available to your troops, please do study it to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings. We should be arriving in Brodick Castle shortly."
"If I may," Robert asked, "What is the history and population of Arran?"
"Certainly," Brian replied, "Arran Colony was started with the last 1000 Irish and Scots Gaelic people on Earth. With a bit of hard work and luck we settled the planet as an agriculture world, primarily ranching but expanding into other crops and fishing as well as natural textiles and some light mining and mineral refinement. Today Arran has a population of just over four million."
4 million, from the look of the small port town which hugged the harbor you wouldn't know it.
"And the port city?" Robert inquired.
"Brodick." Brian explained. "The harbor on this island is almost an exact match of Brodick on Earth, so the island was named Brodick as well as the city we just passed through and the MacSweeney family have called it home ever since."
"Brod..."
Robert shot Hobbs a murderous glance before he could finish and the rest of the trip was conducted in silence.
The chartered coaches pulled onto a gravel driveway in front of an amazing castle, built stone by stone into an exact replica of the one on Earth. Troops were ordered to disembark and form ranks below a massive tower that loomed regally over them. An equally impressive man exited to greet the arrived troops, wearing a fine wool suit and a red and black kilt shot through with yellow covered slightly by a leather sporran with polished silver trim. Robert waited for Hobbs to call it a skirt, and was thankful that he remained silent.
"Fáilte Abhaile." Laird MacSweeney said in a neutral tone.
"Apologies sir," Robert replied nervously, "but the men don't speak much Gaelic yet."
"No worries," Laird MacSweeney said, "but 500 does not a regiment make."
"No sir." Robert replied. "We are what's left from Diani unfortunately."
Laird MacSweeney nodded quietly. "We shall have to remedy that. Carry on."
Robert rendered a salute "On the orders of the Terran Military, The 449th Infantry Regiment has been reassigned to Arran SIR!"
Laird MacSweeney returned the salute and began to speak.
"I know who you are and where you came from. I expect all of you to act like civilized people, not the convicts you were previously. Think carefully how you conduct yourselves here on Arran. Housing accommodations for the command staff will be here at the castle, company commanders and enlisted will be housed temporarily in a hotel in the city. This is your second chance gentlemen, you will not recieve leniency from me or my people."
Laird MacSweeney paused momentarily to let the warning sink in.
"With that being said, you are owed three months of pay, which has already been taken care of, and I believe a week furlough is in order to acclimatize you to Arran. Be responsible and respectful, but please enjoy yourselves. Colonel Grant."
Robert nodded and rendered salute again before turning and shouting "DISMISSED!"
The unit cheered at their freedom, but returned the the coaches in a somewhat orderly fashion. Robert tensed slightly at the thought of what they might do if not under watch, and the hand placed lightly on his shoulder made him flinch inside.
"Calm yourself Colonel," Laird MacSweeney said in a gentle tone, "You have a lot of work ahead of you yo get your unit properly organized, but you've done an excellent job considering."
"Thank you sir." Robert replied. "If I might ask, what does Fáilte Abhaile mean?"
Laird MacSweeney chuckled as Robert turned to face him.
"We shall have to remedy that as well." Laird MacSweeney replied.
"Fáilte Abhaile means Welcome home."
submitted by Coyote_Havoc to HFY [link] [comments]
"Arran of many stags, the sea strikes at her shoulders, companies of men can feed there, blue spears are reddend amongst her boulders. Merry hinds are on her hills, juicy berries are there for food, refreshing water in her streams, nuts in plenty in the wood."
-Agalllamh na senorach-
"Don't say goodbye, wish me luck and a swift return."
Sorcha's words echoed in Robert's head as he watched the transports race the local star into the sky. Robert was the last to leave the cargo bay, wanting to remain in her presence for as long as possible. It was childish now that he thought of it, but it had earned him a long, deep kiss and a promise she would come back to him soon.
The port where they had been dropped off was located on a cliff overlooking the sea, and the golden light of dawn was echoed on the incoming waves. Beyond the tarmac, grass and bushes grew unhindered and thin trees towered over the terminal. Robert led the 449th toward the building which was built to resemble something out of a story book. A faux thatch roof hung over white walls resembling rough hewn stone while a clocktower with a black slate roof rose from behind. It was a beautiful example of deceptive architecture to give a weary traveler a sense of tranquility. The main concourse radiated the same fairy tale charm with shops lining the interior between cobblestone walkways and a grassy area with long wooden benches under manicured alder trees.
To the casual observer it was a welcome distraction from the busy day to day worries of modern life, to the former convicts who were used to concrete, reinforced walls and armed guards it was heaven on earth. Robert's troops ignored the benches to lay in the soft grass, a luxury unaffordable to the soldier and the convict alike, drawing looks of curiosity from travelers as well as shop workers and Robert had to fight the urge to join his men in this simple pleasure. Finding a seat on a bench, he sufficed himself by running his left hand through the soft blades where the unit colors had been planted.
"How long have you all been fighting?" A stranger asked.
"Feels like forever." Robert replied feeling a pang of guilt at not telling the whole truth.
"Just passing through?" The stranger inquired.
"Here to stay, at least for a while I hope." Robert said.
The strangers face brightened and his eyes reflected the smile that he wore.
"Fáilte Abhaile Óglaigh," He said before continuing to his gate.
Gallóglaigh was the only word Robert knew in Gaelic, and it became apparent that he would have to learn quickly as other people took notice of the rag-tag unit relaxing in the grass. Gallóglaigh meant young soldier he surmised, so óglaigh probably meant soldier, but 'saighdiúir' as well as 'laoch' was also directed at him and his men. Laoch sounded bad, but the people who said it smiled and shook hands with him. 'Saighdear' sounded like 'saighdiúir' and he had no idea what 'ghaisgich' meant, but every face told them how happy they were to meet them. 'Tha gaol agan ort' and 'Is Breà liom tú' found their way to his troops, mostly from women and a number of them tried to pronounce the words themselves which caused more confusion and a few impromptu lessons on pronouncing the words followed by a kiss on the cheek or forehead.
Robert was seriously considering reigning in his troops when he heard a more familiar language from a weathered older man with an amused smile.
"May I assume you're Colonel Grant of the 449th?"
"Yes sir." Robert replied.
"Perfect, I'm your escort, Brian McMurray," he said, "whenever you're ready please follow me."
Robert was able to contain the enthusiasm of his rowdy batch of heathens before they could caused any trouble, to the further amusement of their escort, and they wove their way through the port with the expert guidance of Brian McMurray who led them to several busses waiting just outside the passenger entrance. Troops were filed onto four of the vehicles and Robert was guided to an open deck with his officers while the lower deck of the front vehicle would carry the remaining troops. Brian sat in the front and swiveled his seat around to address them.
"I do apologizefor not having an air transport to meet you, but the MacSweeney family was able to charter these coaches at the last minute." Brian said as the coaches began to move.
"MacSweeney?" Hobbs said under his breath.
"Shut up Cyrano." Robert ordered.
"It's alright Colonel," Brian said, "Yes Captain, Laird Collin MacSweeney, Governor of Arran. Have you heard about him before?"
Hobbs eyes grew wide and he shook his head to indicate he hadn't. Robert turned a shade of red, Jacob and Derrick had the common sense to hold their tounges. Thomas on the other hand...
"Collin MacSweeney, son of Aaron MacSweeney, current lord of the MacSweeney family. Descending from Suibhne O'Niall, chieftain of Argyll. Aaron MacSweeney, settled Arran with the last Gaelic speaking people from Ireland and Scotland in order to preserve their heritage."
"Thank you,Captain Reed." Robert said, half relieved Hobbs had been bailed out, and half curious how Thomas knew so damn much.
"Rather impressive summary I must say," Brian replied, "anywho, the languages you were having trouble with and the history of this world will be made available to your troops, please do study it to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings. We should be arriving in Brodick Castle shortly."
"If I may," Robert asked, "What is the history and population of Arran?"
"Certainly," Brian replied, "Arran Colony was started with the last 1000 Irish and Scots Gaelic people on Earth. With a bit of hard work and luck we settled the planet as an agriculture world, primarily ranching but expanding into other crops and fishing as well as natural textiles and some light mining and mineral refinement. Today Arran has a population of just over four million."
4 million, from the look of the small port town which hugged the harbor you wouldn't know it.
"And the port city?" Robert inquired.
"Brodick." Brian explained. "The harbor on this island is almost an exact match of Brodick on Earth, so the island was named Brodick as well as the city we just passed through and the MacSweeney family have called it home ever since."
"Brod..."
Robert shot Hobbs a murderous glance before he could finish and the rest of the trip was conducted in silence.
The chartered coaches pulled onto a gravel driveway in front of an amazing castle, built stone by stone into an exact replica of the one on Earth. Troops were ordered to disembark and form ranks below a massive tower that loomed regally over them. An equally impressive man exited to greet the arrived troops, wearing a fine wool suit and a red and black kilt shot through with yellow covered slightly by a leather sporran with polished silver trim. Robert waited for Hobbs to call it a skirt, and was thankful that he remained silent.
"Fáilte Abhaile." Laird MacSweeney said in a neutral tone.
"Apologies sir," Robert replied nervously, "but the men don't speak much Gaelic yet."
"No worries," Laird MacSweeney said, "but 500 does not a regiment make."
"No sir." Robert replied. "We are what's left from Diani unfortunately."
Laird MacSweeney nodded quietly. "We shall have to remedy that. Carry on."
Robert rendered a salute "On the orders of the Terran Military, The 449th Infantry Regiment has been reassigned to Arran SIR!"
Laird MacSweeney returned the salute and began to speak.
"I know who you are and where you came from. I expect all of you to act like civilized people, not the convicts you were previously. Think carefully how you conduct yourselves here on Arran. Housing accommodations for the command staff will be here at the castle, company commanders and enlisted will be housed temporarily in a hotel in the city. This is your second chance gentlemen, you will not recieve leniency from me or my people."
Laird MacSweeney paused momentarily to let the warning sink in.
"With that being said, you are owed three months of pay, which has already been taken care of, and I believe a week furlough is in order to acclimatize you to Arran. Be responsible and respectful, but please enjoy yourselves. Colonel Grant."
Robert nodded and rendered salute again before turning and shouting "DISMISSED!"
The unit cheered at their freedom, but returned the the coaches in a somewhat orderly fashion. Robert tensed slightly at the thought of what they might do if not under watch, and the hand placed lightly on his shoulder made him flinch inside.
"Calm yourself Colonel," Laird MacSweeney said in a gentle tone, "You have a lot of work ahead of you yo get your unit properly organized, but you've done an excellent job considering."
"Thank you sir." Robert replied. "If I might ask, what does Fáilte Abhaile mean?"
Laird MacSweeney chuckled as Robert turned to face him.
"We shall have to remedy that as well." Laird MacSweeney replied.
"Fáilte Abhaile means Welcome home."
2024.05.16 21:55 hoggersbridge Engines of Arachnea: The Bug World (Chapter 19: Sole Survivor)
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
The Colonel’s tent was leaking again. Ordinarily such a mistake would’ve earned his adjutant an hour-long dressing down and possibly, if the Colonel was feeling particularly enthusiastic, a sharp backhanded slap across the face. After all, a leaky tent could hardly be said to be hermetically sealed, now could it? But this affront to his sensibilities paled in comparison to the utter travesty and exemplar of sheer incompetence that now sat before his desk, a sagging wreck of a man in the tattered uniform of a Fleet officer. Colonel Moch Leelan curled his lip at it and barked:
“Once more, if you please. And I don’t want this on record,” he added, darting a look at the clerk poised to take dictation in the corner of the room, “Not a word of this gets out. There’s been enough of a snafu already, and the brass won’t stop shitting down my neck about Mound 13 and the loss of Prota’s pestilential pet project. Did you hear me, man? I said start from the beginning!”
Outside the monsoon was intensifying into one of those proverbial downpours which prompted doddering old men to remark that it was ‘raining cats and dogs’, though what either a cat or a dog were, none could now say. A trickle of it seeped in like a string of winking glass beads, catching the orange glow of the gas lamp and turning into sparks of amber, into seeds of flame. They dripped on the bald man seated on the low footstool, and he raised his head to meet the scornful gaze of the Colonel, grey eyes unabashed and unafraid. He spoke then, in a hoarse voice that matched his pallid flesh and buzzard nose:
“It was the third day of reconnaissance. We were forced to abandon our pack-beasts in the mire. My assistant and I—”
“Name, rank and serial number!” Colonel Leelan interrupted, for the sole purpose of seeing the coward blink and quaver like the worm he was. But in that he was to be disappointed, for the man continued in the same flat tone:
“Sollem Deschane, Lord Navigator, 3rd Pathfinder Regiment, serial number 18911944. We received orders from the Admiralty and Fleet Command to reconnoiter the area around the enemy concentration designated as Mound Euler. I was to lead a platoon of twenty handpicked volunteers across the river Foss at its lowest point, then scale the outlying cliffs to get better readings as we mapped out the approaches to Mound Euler. It was the third day of reconnaissance. We were forced to abandon our myropods in the mud and carry our own gear. My assistant navigator Rene Louvoture and I noticed a discrepancy with our visually confirmed data and the aerial sketches of the Aeronautical Division. We quickly worked out that the enemy concentration far exceeded initial estimates by an order of magnitude. Mound Euler is an omega-class colony the likes of which the Fleet has faced only once in its entire existence, during the Scouring of Assail. It is my belief that—”
“Leave your hysterics for later and get on to meat of things,” Leelan snapped. Deschane straightened a bit in his seat and scowled as his layers of bandages shifted. The man was practically mummified by the sheer extent of his wounds that it was a wonder he had managed to limp into the tent in the first place. But the navigator had made a point of refusing to be debriefed in his sick bed and had insisted that he be given no further pain killers. This was to prove that his report was not at all influenced by the effects of opiates, as well as to underline the supposed importance of his eyewitness account as the sole survivor of the siege of Mound 13.
But Colonel Leelan was no fool. He knew the tactic for what it was: a bit of playacting by a soon-to-be-disgraced officer, a desperate attempt to pass himself off as a tragic hero rather than the author of the most monumental military cock-up of the decade.
You may very well get that wish, Deschane, Leelan smirked inwardly. If you play your cards right. You’ll find that I can put on a pantomime as well as the next man.
Deschane regarded him cooly, replying:
“You asked for my report, sir. I am stating the facts as I understand them.”
“Understand?” Leelan guffawed, “There’s precious little to understand about this debacle! Explain to me how a routine scouting mission winds up in the loss of 5,000 men, a Rear-Admiral and an entire frontline outpost! Explain to me how you not only got every last one of your own men slaughtered, but still managed to save your own sorry arse!”
Now that had an effect on the navigator’s bearing. He dropped the holier-than-thou attitude and even pretended to dab at some moisture in corners of his eye. For a moment his mask of iron cracked and he looked tired enough to sleep for a thousand years, never to waken. Then he seemed to recall that his career was at stake and had the temerity to argue with the Colonel:
“We were given faulty intelligence. I made mistakes, I’ll admit that here and now. We should never have continued after our pack animals were trapped in the mire. The gear slowed us down in enemy territory. I can’t wash my hands of the loss of my platoon. They were the best and bravest men I ever fought with, and I will carry the shame of losing them to my grave. The fact that I am still alive when none of them are breathing is an accident that was not of my choosing. As for Mound 13, it was only a matter of time before they were discovered and dealt with. They were only two day’s travel from Mound Euler. In fact, it was miracle they managed to exist for so long undetected.”
Magnificent deflection. Colonel Leelan had to admire the snake and his flawless attempt to pass the blame onto the shoulders of the dead Rear-Admiral Prota.
Yes, I think we can make an arrangement here, the Colonel thought wryly. He waved Deschane’s prattling aside and said:
“This omega-class colony of yours. A mound so large that is beggars belief, you say? Curious, then, that such an object should have escaped your keen senses for three whole days!”
“Visibility in that terrain and climate is poor. But yes, it was another one of my errors.”
“I’m so glad that you agree,” Leelan purred, his words dripping with condescension. He reached into the drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of fermented honeydew. Uncorking it with a loud pop, he poured out two glasses and lifted one to his lips, saying:
“On a related note, it’s funny how the fog of war can obscure so many important details. Even the best commanders can lose their bearings, lose sight of the greater picture, fixate on the wrong things. Take our dearly departed Rear-Admiral Prota, for example (may she rest in the Flight Eternal). Not to speak ill of the dead, but she was assigned an entire sector for her research into enemy behavior. And what does she do with it? Cultural studies! Anthropology! As if the Amits have a culture worth sneezing at! They’ve been working with flint and wood since this primeval war of ours began, and they’ve never taken the hint. Meanwhile, we’ve finally gained the advantage of powder and artillery and mass-produceable gas masks.”
“One big push! That’s all it would take to clear the northern highlands. We have the men, the will and the technology to do it! The last thing we need is some starry-eyed academic telling us that the Amits have somehow found religion. I mean, really!” Colonel Leelan warmed to his subject, “Five thousand soldiers dedicated to safeguarding some blessed cave paintings, right on the frontlines, too! What a waste. Like you said: if you hadn’t led the Amits directly to them, someone else would have down the line.”
“We took steps to ensure they wouldn’t follow us. We tried, but they found the fear-death pheromones—”
“Steps?” Leelan pressed him mercilessly, “What steps, exactly?”
Deschane looked away and said nothing. Leelan sniffed, continuing:
“I thought so. As I was saying, Prota’s project was doomed from the start. It was an ill-conceived, harebrained mission, and now the Admiralty will have to explain to Fleet Command and the general public how it lost an entire regiment in the name of some woman’s flight of fancy. But there is a silver lining to all this. Seeing as how we recaptured what was left of Mound 13 within mere hours of it falling, we think there’s a way to salvage the situation after all. You can be part of that, Deschane. Every victory may have its price, but it must also have its heroes.”
Leelan sipped his honeydew, waiting for the offer he’d made to sink in. Deschane smiled, a humorless crack in his granite features.
“You’re going to make me a hero?” he asked. Leelan nudged the other glass towards him, shrugging:
“And why not? Someone has to wear the medals. ‘Lone Survivor of Desperate Last Stand’,” Leelan exclaimed, dramatically forecasting the future headlines, “He tried to warn them, but did they listen? You get the rest, I imagine. We’ll have to improve some of the details, of course. Like how it was the 3rd Pathfinder Regiment which held back the flood of Amits in the final hour and ignited the fortress’ ammo depot—”
“We never did that,” Deschane objected, rudely cutting off Leelan’s train of thought, “It was the Divine Engine. I saw it with my own eyes. It broke out of Mound 13 and slaughtered the enemy.”
Leelan sighed.
“Not this again. Deschane, I’d appreciate it if you’d save your hallucinations for the regimental shrink. Think, man! The honor of our unit is at stake here. You have a chance to redeem the men of your platoon, even if you can never truly redeem yourself.”
“I saw it,” Deschane growled, and for a moment Leelan almost reached for his ceremonial saber hanging by its belt on his coatrack, “Sir, it left footprints the size of—”
“For heaven’s sake, you witless worm, the earthquake was felt all the way in the Southern Delta! Not very big one, but certainly enough to account for the avalanches and landslides that took place around Mound 13, not to mention the sinkhole we found you snoring in! It’s certainly not the first time an uncontrolled detonation triggered a seismic event. Deschane, I’ll only say this once: either you get your story straight or by thunder, I’ll bury you so deep in shit you’ll start to think you’re made of it! And you are! If you breathe a word of this delirious vision of yours to the press, you’ll not only receive no medals, but I’ll have you court-martialed faster than you can say ‘diddly-squat’. Which is precisely what you’ll be left with unless you jump like a good boy and ask how high. No honor, no rank, no reputation, no pension. Nothing! Do you understand?”
Colonel Leelan wrathfully thrust the glass at Deschane, spilling most of it in the process.
“Well, do you?”
Deschane hobbled out of the tent, escorted by a pair of grenadiers in fluffy white shakos. They sealed the adhesive lining of the tent airlock after him and the Navigator went on his way, the taste of honeydew lingering on his tongue like a bitter poison. He lifted his mask and hawked up a gob of spit that eloquently described his opinion of the colonel, wiping his scowling mouth with the back of his hand.
Ven was waiting for him with the crutches, a young and rather portly corporal with apple cheeks and a worried, pouting mouth. She helped Deschane as he made the slow and painful walk across the encampment to his field tent, the lord navigator deep in thought. Along the way they cut across the central avenue of the camp where a seemingly endless artillery train was lumbering its way up from the south and curving around the broad talus skirts of Gorgo Plateau, teams of scuttling myropods hitched to six or twelve-pounder guns, their hundreds of tiny legs threshing the soil into a quagmire. Behind them, plodding dejectedly into the rapidly liquefying mud, were ranks upon rank of fresh colonial levees, their brand-new sealant suits creaking loudly at the joints as they made what for most of them would be their first expedition into the surface world.
And what a foray it would prove to be. Almost two hundred thousand men amd women were mustered here at the edge of civilization, poised on the cusp of what was to be the largest surface offensive in recorded history. The Fleet had arrived in the Northern Hinterlands, and it had come to conquer.
"Gangway!" the levees hollered at Ven as she tried to cut a path for Deschane through the line, "Can't you see we's marching 'ere, ya stoopid bint?"
"He's an officer, ain't he?" she screamed back, pointing at the navigator.
Upon noticing the faded chevrons on Deschane's shoulders some of them clumsily snapped to attention, stopping in their tracks. Their comrades behind them, oblivious to this turn of events, bowled right into them, causing a minor stampede. Men and women cursed as they dropped their pristine muskets, never fired in the heat of battle, into the churning soup at their feet, or themselves went sprawling on their hands and knees. Baton-wielding sergeants descended on the mess, screaming for them to get back up, generously assisting them with a boot to the rump or a smack on the side of the head. Deschane looked back at the display for a long moment, as if considering something. Abruptly he grunted at Ven and they continued on their way to the outskirts where the Pathfinders were billeted.
She waited until they were inside the tent and Deschane was back in his sick bed, the navigator turning his back to her in stony silence. Cautiously, she ventured:
“What now, sir?”
“Draw up a list of volunteers,” he rasped, “But do it on the sly. We’re going back out there."
"Very good, sir," Ven squeaked, and went scurrying out of the navigator's chambers, sealing the tent flap softly behind her. She knew that tone and what it signified: the lord navigator had made up his mind, and heaven help whoever would stand in his way.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
submitted by hoggersbridge to HFY [link] [comments]
The Colonel’s tent was leaking again. Ordinarily such a mistake would’ve earned his adjutant an hour-long dressing down and possibly, if the Colonel was feeling particularly enthusiastic, a sharp backhanded slap across the face. After all, a leaky tent could hardly be said to be hermetically sealed, now could it? But this affront to his sensibilities paled in comparison to the utter travesty and exemplar of sheer incompetence that now sat before his desk, a sagging wreck of a man in the tattered uniform of a Fleet officer. Colonel Moch Leelan curled his lip at it and barked:
“Once more, if you please. And I don’t want this on record,” he added, darting a look at the clerk poised to take dictation in the corner of the room, “Not a word of this gets out. There’s been enough of a snafu already, and the brass won’t stop shitting down my neck about Mound 13 and the loss of Prota’s pestilential pet project. Did you hear me, man? I said start from the beginning!”
Outside the monsoon was intensifying into one of those proverbial downpours which prompted doddering old men to remark that it was ‘raining cats and dogs’, though what either a cat or a dog were, none could now say. A trickle of it seeped in like a string of winking glass beads, catching the orange glow of the gas lamp and turning into sparks of amber, into seeds of flame. They dripped on the bald man seated on the low footstool, and he raised his head to meet the scornful gaze of the Colonel, grey eyes unabashed and unafraid. He spoke then, in a hoarse voice that matched his pallid flesh and buzzard nose:
“It was the third day of reconnaissance. We were forced to abandon our pack-beasts in the mire. My assistant and I—”
“Name, rank and serial number!” Colonel Leelan interrupted, for the sole purpose of seeing the coward blink and quaver like the worm he was. But in that he was to be disappointed, for the man continued in the same flat tone:
“Sollem Deschane, Lord Navigator, 3rd Pathfinder Regiment, serial number 18911944. We received orders from the Admiralty and Fleet Command to reconnoiter the area around the enemy concentration designated as Mound Euler. I was to lead a platoon of twenty handpicked volunteers across the river Foss at its lowest point, then scale the outlying cliffs to get better readings as we mapped out the approaches to Mound Euler. It was the third day of reconnaissance. We were forced to abandon our myropods in the mud and carry our own gear. My assistant navigator Rene Louvoture and I noticed a discrepancy with our visually confirmed data and the aerial sketches of the Aeronautical Division. We quickly worked out that the enemy concentration far exceeded initial estimates by an order of magnitude. Mound Euler is an omega-class colony the likes of which the Fleet has faced only once in its entire existence, during the Scouring of Assail. It is my belief that—”
“Leave your hysterics for later and get on to meat of things,” Leelan snapped. Deschane straightened a bit in his seat and scowled as his layers of bandages shifted. The man was practically mummified by the sheer extent of his wounds that it was a wonder he had managed to limp into the tent in the first place. But the navigator had made a point of refusing to be debriefed in his sick bed and had insisted that he be given no further pain killers. This was to prove that his report was not at all influenced by the effects of opiates, as well as to underline the supposed importance of his eyewitness account as the sole survivor of the siege of Mound 13.
But Colonel Leelan was no fool. He knew the tactic for what it was: a bit of playacting by a soon-to-be-disgraced officer, a desperate attempt to pass himself off as a tragic hero rather than the author of the most monumental military cock-up of the decade.
You may very well get that wish, Deschane, Leelan smirked inwardly. If you play your cards right. You’ll find that I can put on a pantomime as well as the next man.
Deschane regarded him cooly, replying:
“You asked for my report, sir. I am stating the facts as I understand them.”
“Understand?” Leelan guffawed, “There’s precious little to understand about this debacle! Explain to me how a routine scouting mission winds up in the loss of 5,000 men, a Rear-Admiral and an entire frontline outpost! Explain to me how you not only got every last one of your own men slaughtered, but still managed to save your own sorry arse!”
Now that had an effect on the navigator’s bearing. He dropped the holier-than-thou attitude and even pretended to dab at some moisture in corners of his eye. For a moment his mask of iron cracked and he looked tired enough to sleep for a thousand years, never to waken. Then he seemed to recall that his career was at stake and had the temerity to argue with the Colonel:
“We were given faulty intelligence. I made mistakes, I’ll admit that here and now. We should never have continued after our pack animals were trapped in the mire. The gear slowed us down in enemy territory. I can’t wash my hands of the loss of my platoon. They were the best and bravest men I ever fought with, and I will carry the shame of losing them to my grave. The fact that I am still alive when none of them are breathing is an accident that was not of my choosing. As for Mound 13, it was only a matter of time before they were discovered and dealt with. They were only two day’s travel from Mound Euler. In fact, it was miracle they managed to exist for so long undetected.”
Magnificent deflection. Colonel Leelan had to admire the snake and his flawless attempt to pass the blame onto the shoulders of the dead Rear-Admiral Prota.
Yes, I think we can make an arrangement here, the Colonel thought wryly. He waved Deschane’s prattling aside and said:
“This omega-class colony of yours. A mound so large that is beggars belief, you say? Curious, then, that such an object should have escaped your keen senses for three whole days!”
“Visibility in that terrain and climate is poor. But yes, it was another one of my errors.”
“I’m so glad that you agree,” Leelan purred, his words dripping with condescension. He reached into the drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of fermented honeydew. Uncorking it with a loud pop, he poured out two glasses and lifted one to his lips, saying:
“On a related note, it’s funny how the fog of war can obscure so many important details. Even the best commanders can lose their bearings, lose sight of the greater picture, fixate on the wrong things. Take our dearly departed Rear-Admiral Prota, for example (may she rest in the Flight Eternal). Not to speak ill of the dead, but she was assigned an entire sector for her research into enemy behavior. And what does she do with it? Cultural studies! Anthropology! As if the Amits have a culture worth sneezing at! They’ve been working with flint and wood since this primeval war of ours began, and they’ve never taken the hint. Meanwhile, we’ve finally gained the advantage of powder and artillery and mass-produceable gas masks.”
“One big push! That’s all it would take to clear the northern highlands. We have the men, the will and the technology to do it! The last thing we need is some starry-eyed academic telling us that the Amits have somehow found religion. I mean, really!” Colonel Leelan warmed to his subject, “Five thousand soldiers dedicated to safeguarding some blessed cave paintings, right on the frontlines, too! What a waste. Like you said: if you hadn’t led the Amits directly to them, someone else would have down the line.”
“We took steps to ensure they wouldn’t follow us. We tried, but they found the fear-death pheromones—”
“Steps?” Leelan pressed him mercilessly, “What steps, exactly?”
Deschane looked away and said nothing. Leelan sniffed, continuing:
“I thought so. As I was saying, Prota’s project was doomed from the start. It was an ill-conceived, harebrained mission, and now the Admiralty will have to explain to Fleet Command and the general public how it lost an entire regiment in the name of some woman’s flight of fancy. But there is a silver lining to all this. Seeing as how we recaptured what was left of Mound 13 within mere hours of it falling, we think there’s a way to salvage the situation after all. You can be part of that, Deschane. Every victory may have its price, but it must also have its heroes.”
Leelan sipped his honeydew, waiting for the offer he’d made to sink in. Deschane smiled, a humorless crack in his granite features.
“You’re going to make me a hero?” he asked. Leelan nudged the other glass towards him, shrugging:
“And why not? Someone has to wear the medals. ‘Lone Survivor of Desperate Last Stand’,” Leelan exclaimed, dramatically forecasting the future headlines, “He tried to warn them, but did they listen? You get the rest, I imagine. We’ll have to improve some of the details, of course. Like how it was the 3rd Pathfinder Regiment which held back the flood of Amits in the final hour and ignited the fortress’ ammo depot—”
“We never did that,” Deschane objected, rudely cutting off Leelan’s train of thought, “It was the Divine Engine. I saw it with my own eyes. It broke out of Mound 13 and slaughtered the enemy.”
Leelan sighed.
“Not this again. Deschane, I’d appreciate it if you’d save your hallucinations for the regimental shrink. Think, man! The honor of our unit is at stake here. You have a chance to redeem the men of your platoon, even if you can never truly redeem yourself.”
“I saw it,” Deschane growled, and for a moment Leelan almost reached for his ceremonial saber hanging by its belt on his coatrack, “Sir, it left footprints the size of—”
“For heaven’s sake, you witless worm, the earthquake was felt all the way in the Southern Delta! Not very big one, but certainly enough to account for the avalanches and landslides that took place around Mound 13, not to mention the sinkhole we found you snoring in! It’s certainly not the first time an uncontrolled detonation triggered a seismic event. Deschane, I’ll only say this once: either you get your story straight or by thunder, I’ll bury you so deep in shit you’ll start to think you’re made of it! And you are! If you breathe a word of this delirious vision of yours to the press, you’ll not only receive no medals, but I’ll have you court-martialed faster than you can say ‘diddly-squat’. Which is precisely what you’ll be left with unless you jump like a good boy and ask how high. No honor, no rank, no reputation, no pension. Nothing! Do you understand?”
Colonel Leelan wrathfully thrust the glass at Deschane, spilling most of it in the process.
“Well, do you?”
Deschane hobbled out of the tent, escorted by a pair of grenadiers in fluffy white shakos. They sealed the adhesive lining of the tent airlock after him and the Navigator went on his way, the taste of honeydew lingering on his tongue like a bitter poison. He lifted his mask and hawked up a gob of spit that eloquently described his opinion of the colonel, wiping his scowling mouth with the back of his hand.
Ven was waiting for him with the crutches, a young and rather portly corporal with apple cheeks and a worried, pouting mouth. She helped Deschane as he made the slow and painful walk across the encampment to his field tent, the lord navigator deep in thought. Along the way they cut across the central avenue of the camp where a seemingly endless artillery train was lumbering its way up from the south and curving around the broad talus skirts of Gorgo Plateau, teams of scuttling myropods hitched to six or twelve-pounder guns, their hundreds of tiny legs threshing the soil into a quagmire. Behind them, plodding dejectedly into the rapidly liquefying mud, were ranks upon rank of fresh colonial levees, their brand-new sealant suits creaking loudly at the joints as they made what for most of them would be their first expedition into the surface world.
And what a foray it would prove to be. Almost two hundred thousand men amd women were mustered here at the edge of civilization, poised on the cusp of what was to be the largest surface offensive in recorded history. The Fleet had arrived in the Northern Hinterlands, and it had come to conquer.
"Gangway!" the levees hollered at Ven as she tried to cut a path for Deschane through the line, "Can't you see we's marching 'ere, ya stoopid bint?"
"He's an officer, ain't he?" she screamed back, pointing at the navigator.
Upon noticing the faded chevrons on Deschane's shoulders some of them clumsily snapped to attention, stopping in their tracks. Their comrades behind them, oblivious to this turn of events, bowled right into them, causing a minor stampede. Men and women cursed as they dropped their pristine muskets, never fired in the heat of battle, into the churning soup at their feet, or themselves went sprawling on their hands and knees. Baton-wielding sergeants descended on the mess, screaming for them to get back up, generously assisting them with a boot to the rump or a smack on the side of the head. Deschane looked back at the display for a long moment, as if considering something. Abruptly he grunted at Ven and they continued on their way to the outskirts where the Pathfinders were billeted.
She waited until they were inside the tent and Deschane was back in his sick bed, the navigator turning his back to her in stony silence. Cautiously, she ventured:
“What now, sir?”
“Draw up a list of volunteers,” he rasped, “But do it on the sly. We’re going back out there."
"Very good, sir," Ven squeaked, and went scurrying out of the navigator's chambers, sealing the tent flap softly behind her. She knew that tone and what it signified: the lord navigator had made up his mind, and heaven help whoever would stand in his way.
Link for all the chapters available here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
2024.05.16 21:38 Xsowski [Online][5e][Saturday 6PM CEST][Starting June 15] Unending Expanse. A game in a futuristic-renessaince setting about exploring and settling unknown lands.
The game is new player friendly, I have a lot of experience introducing players into different TTRPGs, so you can expect patience and understanding, as me and possibly my friend help new players learn how to play DnD 5e and use FoundryVTT to the best of our abilities.
The campaign is set in a world of renaissance inspired where after a great war the age of exploration has begun and people just started colonizing newly discovered lands, the titular Unending Expanse.
Tame the wild lands, that haven't been touched by men, or so you were told. After something has happened in your life you decided to give it a chance and embarked on a ship, that sailed towards the Unending Expanse, maybe running form something, maybe seeking a new life or just for fun. You wouldn't probably afford this normally, but you've picked a contract form a lesser known mercenary company that wanted you to escort a group of settlers on their journey towards the future settlement.
The campaign is for morally grey characters, that are willing to take risks and morally dubious decisions, for their own gain or to make sure the plan succeeds.
Don't prepare characters beforehand, because we'll be using mostly homebrew character options including classes, subclasses and spells. Despite that, the game is new player friendly and I'll gladly help new players learn the game in their own pace.
The game is mostly sandbox with a few central quests, but I'm used to running sandbox games including players in the world building allowing players to express themselves thru in game decisions and making their choices really matter and build world that they inhabit.
I'm looking mostly for mature players, that are over the age of 18, because the game will be adventure with horror elements and difficult decisions, so I need players, that will be ok with that and will understand a difference between real world and fiction. If there is something you would like omitted form the game, then probably my game is not for you, cos I often mention difficult topics, but I try to stay tactful.
We'll be using FoundryVTT, but you need no prior knowledge, I'll do on-boarding as good as I can.
submitted by Xsowski to lfg [link] [comments]
The campaign is set in a world of renaissance inspired where after a great war the age of exploration has begun and people just started colonizing newly discovered lands, the titular Unending Expanse.
Tame the wild lands, that haven't been touched by men, or so you were told. After something has happened in your life you decided to give it a chance and embarked on a ship, that sailed towards the Unending Expanse, maybe running form something, maybe seeking a new life or just for fun. You wouldn't probably afford this normally, but you've picked a contract form a lesser known mercenary company that wanted you to escort a group of settlers on their journey towards the future settlement.
The campaign is for morally grey characters, that are willing to take risks and morally dubious decisions, for their own gain or to make sure the plan succeeds.
Don't prepare characters beforehand, because we'll be using mostly homebrew character options including classes, subclasses and spells. Despite that, the game is new player friendly and I'll gladly help new players learn the game in their own pace.
The game is mostly sandbox with a few central quests, but I'm used to running sandbox games including players in the world building allowing players to express themselves thru in game decisions and making their choices really matter and build world that they inhabit.
I'm looking mostly for mature players, that are over the age of 18, because the game will be adventure with horror elements and difficult decisions, so I need players, that will be ok with that and will understand a difference between real world and fiction. If there is something you would like omitted form the game, then probably my game is not for you, cos I often mention difficult topics, but I try to stay tactful.
We'll be using FoundryVTT, but you need no prior knowledge, I'll do on-boarding as good as I can.
2024.05.16 17:10 AtlantiumAI SUPERLIGHT Episode 8
 | SUPERLIGHT Episode 8 submitted by AtlantiumAI to u/AtlantiumAI [link] [comments] By Roc Hatfield https://preview.redd.it/a7zv50601t0d1.png?width=1456&format=png&auto=webp&s=debf7ea73c5d775284f69dcc0a8412783256fd1e Excelsior Andriel and his staff move to the debark site on the blade where they will walk in space over to the Elo Eloahim. Ambassador Lucentel is awaiting the arrival of the group from the blade. He is speaking with the commander of his vessel as they look outside at the blade sitting 100 yards away. Commander, what do you make of this vessel, the blade? Ambassador, I am aware of this design. It is manifest and therefore has many exotic accoutrements and capabilities. It has a trans-time drive system and many highly accurate weapons. The commander pauses. Does it pose a threat to the Elo Eloahim, commander? Lucent Tell asks. As long as we are in the Aetherium domain, it poses no threat. If it were to transpose into the Matterverse, it would be potentially lethal to us. The commander and Lucentel can see Excelsior Andriel and a group of Aetherians walking in space toward the Elo Eloahim. Senator, I have Jason Anderson on the phone. Line one. You want to take it? Asked his assistant. Yes, thank you, Barks the senator. Jason, have you lost your fucking mind? Why are you talking to reporters? Well, if you must know, I am concerned about the effects of the Superlight device, and I think people should be aware. Besides, Hilliard fired me, so I have no allegiance, Jason adds. Whoa, whoa, whoa. A bunch of babies. You people are so dramatic. Where the fuck is Hilliard? We have looked everywhere, and not a sign of him or his team, the senator says. I don't know senator, but I did get a call from him this morning early. Where was the call from? Did you look? Asks Senator Abramson. Yes, I looked, and it was listed as caller unknown. He has gone into hiding and is using a burner or a call blocker. Get me that phone, Jason. I can get someone at NSA to trace it back. Maybe we can get a lead. Okay, senator, I can send it down express. It will be there tomorrow. You know, Jason, if you want that device in good hands, we have to find Hilliard. The senator huffs. I understand, Senator, Jason says. Send me that phone, and I will talk to you in a couple of days. The senator hangs up. Airman Johnson has collected Brad, Nancy, and Walter, escorting them to the mess hall. As they enter, they see Captain Carpenter and two men at a table. They stand and greet. Barbara introduces everyone. Brad, Nancy, Walter, I would like you to meet Steve Ruddin and Oscar Tillman. These guys are contractors to the Space Force Deep Black Division, the same guys that developed the TR-3 Black Manta you all flew on. They work on the infamous 17th floor, the bottom floor, and safest floor in the base. An intruder would have to navigate down through 16 floors through tight security to reach this floor and its secret projects. These guys are going to help you set up your device. I have approved this as a Halo-class project, which means no spending caps. So, whatever you need, just ask, and it will be provided to you. If the New Empire is interested in this thing, then we all are interested in it. Nancy, Walter, I know you may need some briefing to get you fully up to speed. Maybe Brad can fill you in later. After lunch, I am going to have Steve and Oscar give you the 10-cent tour. Well, some of the toys they have down there cost a significant portion of the U.S. budget, off-record budget, Barbara says. We have been talking with these greys for years. The Air Force prior to us. We never see the tall greys, always the little ones. That tells you something right there. Your little black box has them freaking out, so we need to know why, and how to leverage from it. My job here is to oversee development of space technologies. The greys are so far technologically ahead of us. It would take thousands of years for us to discover half of that stuff. We have asked them to help us for years, and they have given us an old depleted ship, and some elements that are not found on Earth, but that's about it. Even their old scout ships are impossible to reverse-engineer. We have been able to take a few components and use them. Back in the 50s, many of the big tech breakthroughs were reversed grey tech. They seem to be a race of thinkers and scientists. They use some kind of black magic. I just call it that. They call it manifest. They are able to tell the quantum to build a spaceship, and the thing just 3D prints itself into existence. That's why their tech is so hard to back-engineer. There are no signs of any manufacturing, it’s like a living metallic body, no seams, rivets, nothing. Just a wholly formed organic ship. Which brings me to the whole point of this meeting. If the superlight is an economic or ideological threat to the greys and their kind, we have a currency to trade in. I am certain they could build one in a minute, that's not the issue. They don't want us to have it. It is an existential threat to their economy and how they profit from us as a species. I have been thinking, since we were on that ship with the big grey Andriel, that the human race, and most likely many others, are creations, avatars, if you will made by the beings you are seeing with the superlight. It's all mind-melting information, but we need to learn more about these things, and how they affect our planet, and what threats they pose. You now have all the resources you need at your disposal. So, let's get some answers in fast. Our very survival could depend on it. Captain Carpenter concludes. The news of the superlight has been seen around the world. The news media have been featuring non-stop coverage of the story. Reporters have probed the White House, the Russians, the Chinese, the Vatican, just about every world leader for comment and analysis. U.S. President Andrew Walton Grant has fielded calls all day from far-flung world leaders. His chief of staff Ben Chambers is hovering nearby. The president is on a video call with Russian President Nikolai Brezhnev. President Grant, I am very concerned that the U.S. has such a powerful weapon. I have conferred with the Council on International Emergency Affairs, and they are quite concerned with the idea of this powerful device being in the hands of one country. Therefore, we demand in all manner possible that the United States bring this device to the Council, that we might understand this dangerous invention better. Sir, with all due respect. Oh no, Grant thinks under his breath. When they start in with the all due respect bullshit, it means there is actually no respect. Grant mutes the call and speaks into his chief of staff's ear. Do we even know where this fucking thing is? Chambers says, no sir, not really. Just stall him so we can figure this all out. Grant takes the mute off. Nikolai, I am going to need some time to sift through this situation. As you know, this device we are talking about is owned and developed by a private tech company, and I will need their cooperation. The U.S. government can't just take it away, not without a court battle. I am sure we can find a solution that benefits all parties. Thank you, Mr. President, Brezhnev says, adding, please notify us when possible regarding the whereabouts of the device. I have been briefed on the situation and know that it is in hiding somewhere, in the southwest part of your country. Believe me, Mr. President, I will be able to tell you with high accuracy where the device is in a day or so. Thank you, Mr. Brezhnev, I look forward to our next call. Benton, get the National Security Director and a couple Joint Chiefs, and Andy Newhall, Secretary of Defense up here, ASAP. We need a plan, the whole flippin' world is pissed off at us right now. Oh, and who was that senator in those news reports you showed me? The President's asks. Senator Arthur Abramson, Democrat from Massachusetts, says the Chief of Staff. Fine, let's get them all up here so we can sort this thing out, says President Grant. The Grand Hall of the Elo Eloahim is opulent, jewel-like, rows of beautiful tables with hundreds of leaders and diplomats standing and seated. A large choir is singing on a grand stage. Thirty individuals are creating a sound so colorful and emotional that it brings intense pleasure to the listener. No rhythm, just a continuous wave of sound, like a chorus of Angels. Ambassador Lucentel walks into the ballroom, accompanied by Excelsior Andriel and his entourage. Everyone in the room stands, and the music gets louder and more state-like in texture. The group makes their way to the VIP table at the head of the room. Lucentel motions for everyone to be seated. He speaks to the gathering, be not afraid, power and glory to the one. Greetings and peace to all those who are gathered here now. I am delighted to introduce Excelsior Andriel, Commander of the Guardian and Excelsior of the New Empire. Boos and moans can be heard in the crowd. I am certain a number of you have concerns regarding the legitimacy of the New Empire, but must I remind you that it was and is the One that embraces this division in our society. We must embrace it as well. Excelsior, please a few words. Thank you, be not afraid. Power and glory unto the One. The two small greys that were sent to Earth to meet Barbara. Brad and Bill are trying different codes on an outside hatch at the bottom of the Elo Eloahim. They are using a small pad to break in. The hatch suddenly flips open, and the little greys enter the giant ship. Down on these lower levels, it is not so jewel-like, very plain, just utilitarian. They find a room with dozens of video monitors. They wave the pad in front of the video screens. Okay, let's go, one of them says. They quickly leave the way they came in. A half-mile above on the command bridge of the Elo Eloahim, an officer, sees something on his monitor. It is the two greys walking into the power room down below. Commander, take a look at this. The commander steps over and looks at the video screen. What is in that area? The commander asks. That is a distribution node for the converters. Could the converters be disabled from that location? The commander ponders. I don't think so, commander. However, the software that drives the matter converter is partially accessible from there. The commander calls out. Commander on duty to Ambassador Lucientel. Commander, this is not a good time right now. The ambassador says, speaking quietly. I am sorry, ambassador, but we have had an intrusion. Two New Empire operatives, dressed in maintenance robes, entered a very sensitive area of the ship. This could have the potential of putting us at a great disadvantage. Thank you, commander. Glory to the One. Commander, make urgent plans to return to Aetheria. Top speed. It shall be so, ambassador. The sound of the old barge, moving up to speed, can be heard in the ballroom. The choir sing louder in order to be heard above the engine noise. Excelsior Andriel leans to Ambassador Lucientel and says, so this is all an elaborate kidnapping scheme, ambassador. The ambassador chuckles, no, not at all Excelsior, but it was a real chance to collaborate. But your operatives broke into a sensitive part of the ship, and we feel it prudent to return to Aetheria. Don't worry. I will provide you and your party a shuttle to return to your vessel. It has to be before we cross the border net, as I am sure you are aware. Go now. My staff will escort you to the hangar deck, snaps Lucentel The blade is now pulled alongside the Elo Eloahim and is pacing it. Andriel and his group have boarded the shuttle and are exiting the Elo Eloahim. They can see a bright red net just ahead of them. The border net, only authorized Aetherians can cross over it into Old Dominion territory. |
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2024.05.16 15:36 Yurii_S_Kh Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh and His Ministry in the UK
 | Archpriest Maxim Nikolsky lives in the UK and has served in parishes of the Moscow Patriarchate in this country for many decades. He has talked about his ministry and the people who influenced him. submitted by Yurii_S_Kh to SophiaWisdomOfGod [link] [comments] —Father Maxim, your blessing. Please tell us about yourself. How did you end up in the UK? —I was born in Kiev. During the Second World War, when the Germans entered the city, my parents, like many others, left Kiev. And through Europe they eventually got to England. It was easy for me to learn English. It is not difficult for any child to learn a language, and after a few months you already can communicate with other children. Then I graduated from school and a university here, and became a teacher. I grew up in ROCOR. During my youth, there were very few Orthodox churches in the country, and we only traveled there for the major feasts several times a year. When I was in ROCOR, I got to know the Moscow Patriarchate and met Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh. But it was much later, when I started working and teaching. Archpriest Maxim Nikolsky —How did you decide to become a priest? —When I was thirty, I decided to go and study again. And then I met Associate Professor Sergei Hackel, the future archpriest, with whom we later became friends. But at that time I was not yet acquainted with Vladyka Anthony. I met him when I graduated from the second university and we moved to live elsewhere. We attended a ROCOR church, where Archbishop Nicodemus (Nagaev; 1883-1976) served. He was a general in the First World War, then became a priest and archbishop. But when we moved, we started attending the nearest church—it was in Oxford. And Oxford is the Moscow Patriarchate. We attended it, and on the great feasts we went to the Holy Annunciation Convent (ROCOR). It was headed by Mother Abbess Elisabeth (Ampenoff; 1908-1999). I met Vladyka Anthony in the Moscow Patriarchate, and over time he ordained me deacon. So I served as a deacon in Oxford. And a few years later, he ordained me priest. We had a joint church with the Greeks in Oxford. It was originally consecrated by a Greek bishop, Vladyka Anthony and a Serbian bishop. At that time we served together, there was a very friendly and good atmosphere there. But I also traveled to London regularly to serve with Vladyka. —Were you his spiritual child? —Yes, I was. —Please tell us about him. How would you describe his personality? Can you remember how he stood before God at the Liturgy, how he prayed? —Of course, it’s very easy. He was a man of prayer. Clergy rarely pray this way, with such depth. When he prayed, there were no conversations in the sanctuary—something that unfortunately does happen. He himself didn’t talk. Like many hierarchs, he prayed without a service book, because he knew all the services by heart and did not need prompting. And he would often stand with his eyes closed between his exclamations. In his declining years he leaned on his staff because it was hard for him to maintain balance—he was ill towards the end of his life. He had a very pleasant voice, which he raised when he gave exclamations or preached a sermon. He never raised his voice at anyone. However, there was one occasion when he scolded the whole congregation from the ambo after the Liturgy, after someone had offended a mother with a child in the middle of the church the previous week. The child was crying, making noise, and someone told his mother rather rudely to leave the church because the child was hindering his prayer. Vladyka said that it must never happen again and that the parishioner in question had not prayed enough if he could do this. But Vladyka, as I said, always insisted that there should be silence and a prayerful state in church, and not noise. Vladyka Anthony at the Diocesan youth camp in 1961. When Vladyka came to the UK, he did not know English. He knew Russian, French and German, but did not speak English and learned it after moving to the UK. And when he became a bishop, he decided that since he was in Britain, he should preach in English. He would write his sermons on paper, writing down what he wanted to say. And one day a parishioner told him (everyone called him “father”, although he was a hierarch, because he was a father to everyone): “Father Anthony, we are very bored listening to you.” Vladyka was surprised, “Really?” The parishioner replied, “You know, yes, it’s boring. You’d better speak without a paper.” Vladyka wondered, “But why? After all, I make mistakes when I speak.” The parishioner answered, “Yes, but when you make mistakes, it’s so funny and interesting to us.” Vladyka took it into account and began to speak without a paper. And after this, he had brilliant English. —What was his pastoral approach to people? What was his attitude towards the sacrament of confession? —When I came to his parish, he rarely heard confessions, and he heard confessions only of specific people, not the whole congregation. He had a very careful attitude towards this sacrament and showed understanding to every individual person. Everybody who spoke with Vladyka felt that he was the most important person for Vladyka at that moment. A film was made about him, called, The Apostle of Love. He really treated everyone with love. He could be strict, but love always came first. Vladyka felt people keenly. If someone had a really serious problem, he had access to Vladyka; although of course, as an archpastor he was busy. —Do you think he acquired this love, or did he always have it? —I didn’t know his mother. Perhaps he inherited some traits from his father—an understanding of life, people and God Himself. If you recall, his meeting with the Savior took place when he was a young man. After listening to one theological lecture, he was indignant: “How is it? It’s impossible!” Then he went home and said: “Mom, do we have a Gospel?” Of course, they had one at home. He opened the Gospel of Mark, and as he would often later recall, he began to read it, read several chapters and suddenly felt that Christ was standing next to him… Before that, he hadn’t wanted to go to church, being an interesting young student. But at that moment, he felt Him. He couldn’t see, but He knew that Christ was there.… He had knowledge, wisdom, and love. It seems to me that we have no other archpastor who would speak so simply and so deeply at the same time. He spoke directly, like a close friend and a father. And it is love too. Unfortunately, we don’t feel it everywhere… Vladyka Anthony at the diocesan conference in May 1985. —Father Maxim, could you share with us what else you learned from him? —Of course, Vladyka’s influence on everyone who served in London was great. He ordained all the clergy in the cathedral. He knew everyone very well. And you could just see how he lived. And he lived very modestly. He cooked for himself and cleaned himself his small cell, which was at the cathedral. Many people were happy to give him a lift whenever needed: sometimes he called them when there were urgent matters, and several people were always ready to give him a lift. But mostly he traveled on his own, on foot. Over time, people throughout the country held him in great esteem. He spoke on the BBC, on the radio, on some channels that broadcast abroad. People in the Soviet Union listened to him often, although those broadcasts were jammed. Fr. Sergii Hackel worked for the BBC, and Vladyka would come to him. Many universities invited him to give talks; he had many honorary doctorates from different universities. Major hospitals invited him to talk about pastoral care and medicine as well. After all, he himself had once been a doctor. —Did he convert many Brits to Orthodoxy? —Surely, a lot of them, including many influential figures. At the very beginning, the services were only in Church Slavonic, and then they began to celebrate in English. Once a month, he held services entirely in English. And even those who did not convert to Orthodoxy venerated Vladyka. Later, I personally met many people who, being British, remembered Metropolitan Anthony’s words he had spoken in Anglican seminaries, to which he had been invited. He came there and talked about Christianity, but from an Orthodox perspective. He would say: “I’m talking about Christianity. I am a Christian, a Russian to the core, an Orthodox Christian.” Undoubtedly, there were those who converted to Orthodoxy thanks to him. And those who did not convert remembered him all their lives; many of them used his sermons. But, you know, he didn’t write his sermons or books—all his books are his living word. —Have you met other spiritual people in your life who have influenced you? —Personally, I did not communicate, because I felt shy and thought how it would be if I approached him, since he saw right through me—I’m talking about St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco. —Did you see him in person? —Yes. He would come to London. But I didn’t dare approach him. Once I was at a Liturgy that he served. But to my shame, I did not come up to him when he gave the cross to kiss at the end of the service. I was a student then. Later I began to learn more and more about him... And there was Elder Sophrony (Sakharov), who founded the Monastery of St. John the Baptist in Essex. I spoke with him, knew him, and visited his monastery in my time. —What can you tell readers about him? —He was a man of prayer. He had a sense of humor. When I first came there, he was already very old. Many people flocked to him. People came from everywhere, especially on weekends, and there were always many people there. People could approach him and talk to him. —What did Vladyka Anthony think about Elder Sophrony? They probably knew each other. —They certainly did. They were quite close at one time. I met Elder Sophrony at the London Cathedral just when he was having a meeting with Metropolitan Anthony. Coincidentally, I arrived there when Fr. Sophrony was leaving with Vladyka, who escorted him out of the cathedral. At that time, I didn’t actually know about this monastery. The elder said, “Come to us.” And Metropolitan Anthony added, “Yes, it’s nice there.” It was really very good there—there was a truly Athonite spirit. This is a unique monastery, because it is a monastery for monks, where there were also nuns. Of course, they lived as separate communities. And it’s very much like a family, with love. Unfortunately, we are not in communion with them now, since the monastery belongs to the Patriarchate of Constantinople. Archimandrite Sophrony (Sakharov) —Please tell us about your priestly ministry. —I have served at the London Cathedral for over twenty years now. I have two other small parishes, and one of them is situated in the south of England, by the sea. I serve once a month in one, and once a month in the other. I mostly serve at the London Cathedral. Since the disintegration of the Soviet Union, many people have come to us. Over the past two years, many people have also come from Russia and Ukraine. Many have lost their homes and left everything, and we should pastor them too. We serve in two languages. —Father Maxim, there is a theological academy at the Moscow Sretensky Monastery. What advice would you give to future clergy? In your opinion, what is the most important thing in this ministry? —In my view, in addition to understanding, knowing the services and prayers, the most important thing is not to feel that you have suddenly received some special gift and can now lead or rule people. Unfortunately, this happens sometimes. In the Russian Church, very young men become priests. I know that young priests are ordained in the Church of Greece as well, but they do not have the right to hear people’s confessions for some time because they have no experience. But in the Russian Church, they can do it right away. And there are some incautious young priests who can even say something rude. Of course, this is bad. We should learn from Vladyka Anthony and other good archpastors to treat everyone with love. You can mutter a rude word, and this can offend someone. And this person will say, “I will go to a place where I am well received.” —In conclusion, can you please give believers living in Russia some edifying words? —It’s difficult because I don’t live in Russia and haven’t been there for so many years. I think it’s important to stay true to your heart, your conscience, and not be afraid. Everybody should define their values and turn to God: “If it is from Thee, O Lord, help me act, speak and think accordingly. And if not, enlighten me as to how and what I should do.” —Thank you for your answers. Alexandra Kalinovskaya spoke with Archpriest Maxim Nikolsky Source: OrthoChristian |
2024.05.16 14:41 Arbrand The Trickster's Veil
As far back as I can remember, I had always been passionate about the great outdoors. My love for the wilderness began when I joined the scouts, exploring the diverse landscapes of Southern California, Nevada, Arizona, and Utah. I was never a huge fan of the dry, barren landscapes, but camping provided a much-needed escape from the monotony of Orange County suburbia.
The first time I visited the Pacific Northwest, I was enchanted. The scenery was breathtaking—majestic mountains, lush fields, and meandering rivers. It was clear that anyone who praised the desert's beauty had never laid eyes on the Cascades. Seeing grass and wildflowers growing without irrigation was practically a revelation.
When I was old enough, I moved to Washington state, immersing myself in nature every weekend. My adventures took me hiking through dense forests, camping by serene lakes, and occasionally taking mushrooms under peaceful waterfalls.
I joined several online forums dedicated to outdoor enthusiasts. One community that particularly fascinated me was the Northwest Tomb Raiders. This group of history buffs and thrill-seekers was dedicated to uncovering artifacts, whether Native American relics or treasures hidden in modern ruins. Many members were collectors, fencing their finds to museums and archaeologists, which made it a rather profitable side gig, should you be lucky enough.
In the fall of 2009, an intriguing post appeared on the forum. A user named Lokk claimed to have discovered a cache of artifacts with Scandinavian origins. He couldn't carry everything back due to the treacherous terrain and his age, so he shared the coordinates, hoping someone else could retrieve the items. I scrolled down to see a few posts of people planning to loot it in the Spring, when the paths have reopened. One user, Patagooner, planned on going as early as possible.
Excited by the prospect, I gathered my two friends, Carl and Noah, for the expedition. They weren't as enthusiastic about camping as I was, but after I told them how much a single arrowhead goes for on the black market, they were on board. It was the start of winter now, which had its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, the rangers would have a harder time spotting us. On the downside, the harsh conditions posed a serious challenge for two inexperienced hikers.
I must’ve blown about four grand at REI on gear for them, justifying it with the knowledge of how much more I would make with two extra packs. That is of course assuming there really were as many artifacts as Lokk had said, and Patagooner hadn’t beaten me there.
The journey began like any other. We met in the pre-dawn darkness and went over our supplies, ensuring we had everything we needed. By mid-morning, we were on our way, my pickup truck winding up the mountain paths. The roads of Olympic National Park were the epitome of the raw, untamed beauty of the Pacific Northwest.
They snake through ancient forests, where towering Douglas firs and Western hemlocks create a verdant canopy overhead. Mist clings to the trees, giving the landscape an ethereal quality. Occasionally, the forest would open up to reveal breathtaking vistas of snow-capped peaks and deep, shadowy valleys.
As we climbed higher, the landscape grew increasingly desolate. The dense forest thinned out, replaced by rugged terrain and jagged rock formations. The air grew colder, and the first flurries of snow began to fall, dusting the ground in a thin, white layer. The road became narrower and more treacherous, winding precariously along the edge of steep cliffs.
Finally, a road closure blockade signaled the end of our journey in the truck. We unloaded three dirt bikes—one mine, two rentals—and continued up the trail. The bikes roared to life, carrying us several more miles into the wilderness. The trail twisted and turned, cutting through dense underbrush and over fallen logs. The snow began to fall more heavily, blanketing the forest floor and muffling the sound of our engines. The world around us grew quieter, more isolated.
Eventually, the snow became too deep to traverse by bike. We dismounted and prepared to continue on foot. The silence of the forest was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches in the wind. I checked my modern GPS, its screen displaying the coordinates and a relief map of our destination.
The cold air bit into our cheeks as we trudged through the snow-laden forest. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the crunch of our footsteps and the occasional call of distant wildlife. The GPS indicated we were close to our destination, but the dense underbrush and uneven terrain made progress slow.
Suddenly, Carl's excited whisper cut through the stillness. "Hey, look at that!"
He pointed to a small, furry creature ambling through the trees. It took a moment to realize what it was—a bear cub, innocently exploring its surroundings.
My heart sank. "Carl, get back," I hissed, my voice low but urgent. "Where there's a cub, there's a..."
Before I could finish, a massive shape exploded from the trees. The mother bear, easily three times the size of the cub, charged at Carl with a ferocity. She was a blur of dark fur and powerful muscles, her roar echoing through the forest.
"Run!" I yelled, but it was too late. The bear was upon Carl, swiping at him with her massive paws. He screamed as he fell to the ground, the bear towering over him. Desperation and adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest heavy branch and swung it at the bear, hoping to distract her.
Noah joined in, shouting and waving his arms. We had to be careful; one wrong move and she would turn on us. The bear snarled, turning her attention away from Carl for just a moment. It was enough for him to scramble backwards, clutching his bleeding arm.
"We have to get him out of here," I shouted to Noah, who nodded, fear etched on his face. The bear, still enraged, seemed torn between attacking us and protecting her cub.
Using the brief respite, we hauled Carl to his feet. His face was white, and he was clearly in shock. Blood soaked his sleeve, dripping onto the snow. "There's a ranger station about two miles from here," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to get him there. Now."
We half-carried, half-dragged Carl through the forest, every shadow and sound heightening our paranoia.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the small, wooden structure of the ranger station came into view. We had been avoiding the rangers to keep our expedition secret, but now it was our only hope.
Pounding on the door, I prayed for a quick response. The door creaked open, and a weathered face appeared. "What happened?" the ranger demanded, taking in the sight of Carl's bloodied form.
"Bear attack," I gasped. "We need help."
The ranger's expression shifted from suspicion to urgency. "Get him inside. We've got a first aid kit and a radio."
As we eased Carl onto a makeshift bed, the ranger inspected his wounds. "You're lucky," he said after a moment. "The cuts are deep, but they missed any major arteries. He'll need stitches, but we can handle that here. No need for an airlift."
The ranger's face darkened as he turned to me. "What the hell are you boys doing out here?”
I hesitated, "We... we were just exploring."
The ranger's eyes narrowed, his anger palpable. "Exploring? In a restricted area? In the middle of winter? Are you out of your minds?"
He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and stitching Carl's wounds. Carl winced but stayed silent, his eyes closed in pain.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?" the ranger continued, his voice rising. "The storm, the wildlife... This area is off-limits for a reason! You should have known better." he said, pushing a finger into my chest.
"We'll stay here for the night," he continued, "The storm's getting worse, and it's too dangerous to move him now. We'll reassess in the morning. And count yourself lucky I don't arrest your asses."
Night fell quickly, the storm outside growing more ferocious with each passing minute. The howling wind battered the small ranger station, and the walls creaked under the pressure. We huddled in the main room, the tension thick in the air.
The ranger looked at us sternly. "I need to check the perimeter and make sure everything is secure. There are things out there you don’t want to encounter, especially in this storm."
"Things? What do you mean?" Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ranger's expression hardened. "Just stay put. No matter what you see or hear, do not leave this cabin. Understood?"
We nodded, the seriousness in his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll stay put," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The ranger grabbed his coat and shotgun. "I'll be back in an hour. Do not leave this cabin." With that, he opened the door and stepped into the raging storm, disappearing into the darkness.
As soon as the door closed, I turned to Noah. "We need to go. Now."
Noah's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? He said to stay put."
"If we wait until morning, we'll be escorted out of here and lose our chance. This might be our only opportunity to find those artifacts."
Noah hesitated with uncertainty "But... what about Carl?"
"He'll be fine here. The ranger can take care of him. We have to do this now."
Reluctantly, Noah nodded. "Alright. Let's take what we can and go."
We quickly looted extra gear from the cabin. I checked the GPS one last time before we slipped out into the storm, the cold wind battering us.
The snow fell heavily, obscuring our vision as we slogged through the forest. The ranger was nowhere in sight as we made our way towards the our destination, each step filled with trepidatious excitement.
The storm began to die down as we approached the coordinates. We stepped into a clearing where the undisturbed snow lay like a pristine white blanket. In the center stood an ancient, weathered stone altar, encircled by intricate wooden carvings, delicate metalwork, and beautifully crafted statues. The sight was breathtaking, a treasure trove, a veritable museum of paganism.
Noah and I exchanged glances, our eyes wide with amazement. "Do you see this?" I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
"We're going to be rich," Noah replied, his voice trembling with awe. "These must be worth a fortune!"
We approached cautiously, as if the vision before us might disappear. The craftsmanship was stunning. I reached out to touch a carved wooden idol, marveling at the detail. "This is incredible," I said, my voice barely audible.
We began to load our packs with as many artifacts as we could carry, each one more exquisite than the last. It was beyond our wildest dreams. We were so engrossed in our task that we didn't notice the small figure watching us from the ridge.
It wasn't until I turned to leave that I saw her. A young girl, maybe eight years old, stood there, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. She was dressed in simple, rustic clothing, her blonde straight hair blowing gently in the wind. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Noah," I whispered urgently, nudging him. "Look."
He turned, his eyes following my gaze. "What the...?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
The girl took a tentative step forward, her eyes fixed on the items in our hands. There was no fear in her gaze, only a quiet intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She tilted her head slightly. "My name is Sigyn."
"What are you doing out here, Sigyn?" Noah asked, his voice shaky.
"I live here,"
"You live here?" I echoed, incredulous. "Is there anyone else around?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Where?" Noah demanded, looking around nervously.
"Everywhere," she said with a giggle.
The way she said it, so matter-of-factly, bothered me deeply. Noah and I exchanged a look, both of us trying to figure out what to do next.
"We can't take her back to the ranger," Noah started, "We'll lose everything."
I nodded, my mind racing. "Sigyn," I said slowly, "we need to know who else is here. Can you help us?"
She looked at me with her piercing blue eyes, then said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Noah asked.
"For what's going to happen to you," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
"You need to tell us what's going on," Noah said, grabbing her arm roughly. "Why are you out here alone?"
She looked up at him, unperturbed. "I am not alone," she said softly.
Before we could press her further, a loud, guttural mooing sound echoed through the clearing. We turned towards the direction the girl had come from, and there, emerging from the shadows, was the silhouette of an elk. As it approached, my stomach dropped. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of life and decay. Its skull was fully exposed, the eye sockets dark and empty. Large patches of its ribs were visible, the flesh around them rotted away.
The elk's movements were slow and deliberate, its head swaying as if in a trance. It walked directly towards us, its hollow eyes fixed on Sigyn. The closer it got, the more the stench of death filled the air—a nauseating mix of decay and earth. I fought the urge to retch.
Sigyn stood up, her expression calm. The monster sniffed her gently, its nostrils flaring. Without a word, she climbed onto its back, mounting it like a horse. It was a surreal and horrifying scene ripped straight from a nightmare.
As she settled onto the elk, she looked back at us, "A thief in the night shall reap what he sows," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. "Beware the price of stolen dreams."
With that, the beast turned and began to walk away, Sigyn riding it into the shadows of the forest. We stood there, frozen in place. The realization that we were in far over our heads began to sink in. This started to feel like a trap.
We need to get out of here," My voice trembling. "Now."
We turned to leave, our packs heavy with the pilfered goods. But as we took our first steps, the forest around us seemed to come alive. Shadows moved among the trees, and whispers floated on the wind. I quickened my pace, glancing nervously over my shoulder.
"Did you hear that?" Noah asked sharply,
"Just keep moving," I commanded.
A figure emerged from the shadows, blocking our path. It was a man, tall and gaunt, his eyes burning with an intense light. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
"We're leaving," I stammered. "We didn't mean any harm."
The man smirked, and with a swift motion, he raised his hand. More figures appeared, closing in on us from all sides. We were surrounded.
"Run!" I shouted, shoving Noah forward.
We sprinted through the forest, branches whipping at our faces and legs. The figures pursued us, their footsteps silent and relentless.
Noah stumbled and fell, his pack spilling open. Statues scattered across the ground, glinting in the moonlight. "Help!" he cried, scrambling to gather the items.
"Leave them!" I shouted, pulling him to his feet. "We have to keep moving!"
But it was too late, their hands seizing us. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but their grips were too strong. They forced us to the ground, binding our hands with rough, coarse ropes.
"Please," I begged, "Don't hurt us."
The man who had first appeared stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "A thief in the night," he mocked.
They dragged us through the forest, the trees closing in around us like a cage. We were at their mercy.
In the distance, I could see the elk standing at the edge of the clearing, Sigyn still astride its back. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pity. But then they turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.
We were dragged into the heart of the forest, our struggles futile against the unyielding grip of our captors. As we broke through the treeline, a massive bonfire came into view, its flames licking the night sky. Shadows danced around the clearing, cast by the flickering light. A woman stood at the forefront, her presence commanding.
Her eyes were milk white, devoid of pupils, and her long, flowing white hair cascaded down her back. She was completely naked, her skin pale and marked with intricate symbols. Atop her head, she wore an elk skull, its antlers extending like eerie, skeletal fingers. She beat a drum emblazoned with more of the same cryptic symbols, each thud resonating deep within my chest.
Around the fire, about two dozen people stood, all drinking from crude, horned cups. Their faces were solemn, eyes fixed on the woman as she led them in a haunting chant. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of reverence and intoxication.
We were forced to our knees before the woman, who paused her drumming to look down at us. Her gaze was haunting, as if she could see into the very depths of our souls.
"Who are you?" Noah demanded, his voice trembling.
The woman ignored him, raising her arms to the sky. The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drum faster and more frenzied. The air around us seemed to vibrate with energy, the flames of the bonfire growing higher and more intense.
I glanced at Noah, fear mirrored in his eyes. The woman began to speak, her voice low and melodic, but filled with power, in a language I couldn't understand. Suddenly, she stopped, lowering her arms. The chanting ceased, and an silence fell over the clearing. She looked directly at me, her white eyes unblinking.
En tjuv i natten skördar vad han sår, akta dig för drömmar som du stjäl och får.
Hans skratt bevakar lundens gömda stig, där skuggor sveper över skogens liv.
För varje stulet andetag och svek, måste en tjuv möta sitt smärtsamma ödelek.
Tricksterns vilja, vår ande här, så i hans nåd, våra liv bär.
I was terrified and confused. She started again, softer, in a way I could understand.
A thief in the night shall reap what he sows, beware the price of stolen dreams.
His laughter guards our hidden groves, where shadows cloak the forest's seams.
For every stolen breath and lie, a thief must meet his painful end.
The tricksters will, our spirits tie, so in his grace, our lives suspend.
The crowd surged forward, grabbing Noah first. He screamed, his terror echoing through the trees as they pulled him towards a makeshift altar beside the bonfire. The woman chanted louder, her voice rising in a hypnotic rhythm as they began their gruesome work.
They stripped him of his shirt and bound his arms to a wooden frame. I tried to move, to help him, but the grip on my shoulders tightened, pinning me to the ground.
The woman approached Noah, holding a knife with a blade that gleamed in the firelight. She started to slice into his back, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Noah's screams pierced the night as she methodically carved the shape of wings into his flesh.
Blood poured from the wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. The crowd's chant grew louder, almost drowning out his cries. I watched in horror as the woman reached into the incisions, breaking the ribs and pulling them outward, creating a parody of wings.
Noah's agony was unbearable to witness. His screams turned to whimpers, his body convulsing in pain. The woman didn't stop until the work was complete, his lungs exposed and hanging grotesquely from his back.
They lifted Noah's broken body and placed him over the fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, making me gag. His life ebbed away as the flames consumed him, the once vibrant light in his eyes fading to nothing.
The woman turned to me, her expression devoid of mercy. "You will meet the same fate," she said, "He demands it."
The smell of burning flesh and the sight of his broken body over the fire was seared into my mind. Despair settled over me as I closed my eyes.
A deafening blast shattered the night. My eyes flew open to see the shaman stumbling backward, a gaping wound in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her white eyes staring lifelessly into the void.
The villagers turned in shock as another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the men holding me. I twisted free from their grasp and saw the park ranger standing at the edge of the clearing, a pump-action shotgun in his hands. He fired again, the sound echoing through the forest, before one of them tackled him to the ground.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice raw and desperate. "Get the hell out of here!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted into the darkness, the chaos of the clearing fading behind me. Branches whipped at my face, and the snow underfoot made every step a struggle. I could hear the sounds of fighting and gunshots, but I forced myself to keep moving.
The cold air burned in my lungs, but adrenaline pushed me forward. I didn't stop until I reached the station, my legs threatening to give out from under me. I burst through the door and slammed it behind me.
Inside, Carl lay where we had left him, his face pale and twisted in pain. I stumbled to the radio, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the controls.
"Mayday, mayday!" I yelled into the microphone. "This is an emergency! We need help! Please, someone, come quickly!"
Static filled the room, punctuated by my ragged breaths. I repeated the call, my voice growing more frantic with each passing second. Finally, a voice crackled through the speaker. "This is Ranger Station Bravo. What's your location? Over."
I could barely form the words. "Olympic National Park! The ranger station near mount Christie! We're under attack! Please, send help!"
"Copy that. Help is on the way. Stay put and stay safe. Over."
I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. Carl moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. "What… What happened? Where's Noah?”
Tears streamed down my face and I found myself choked up. “He’s gone, man. Help is coming.”
The minutes stretched into an eternity as we waited. The wind howled around the station, and every creak and groan of the structure set my nerves on edge. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the forest itself was closing in on us.
The radio crackled again, this time with a different voice. "Helicopter en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare for extraction."
I glanced at Carl, his eyes filled with confusion. "Hang on. We're getting out of here."
As the minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but think about the ranger. He had saved my life, but he hadn't made it back. My mind conjured up images of what might have happened to him, the cultists overwhelming him in the darkness. A sense of guilt gnawed at me, knowing he had sacrificed himself for us.
The sound of rotors cut through the night, growing louder as the helicopter approached. I ran to the window and saw its searchlight piercing the treetops, scanning for the station.
I helped Carl to his feet, supporting his weight as we made our way to the hatch. The helicopter hovered above, lowering a rescue basket. The wind from the rotors whipped the snow into a frenzy, but I didn't care. Salvation was finally here.
We secured Carl in the basket first, and I watched as he was hoisted up, disappearing into the safety of the helicopter. My turn was next. I realized that I was now alone and exposed. Fear coursing through me as I scanned around the edge of the forest, expecting to be grabbed and taken seconds before my rescue. But the moment never came. As I gripped the rope, I took one last look at the forest below. The flames of the bonfire still flickered in the distance.
I was lifted into the air, the ground falling away beneath me. The helicopter's crew pulled me inside, and I collapsed onto the floor still holding onto my pack, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. The doors closed, and the helicopter banked away, leaving the horrors of the park behind.
Weeks had passed since the harrowing events, but the memories clung to me like the bitter cold. I had returned to civilization, seeking solace in the familiar chaos of the city. I found a wealthy collector through a network of contacts. The artifacts fetched a price tenfold the cost of gear. The money was substantial, but as I held the cash, it felt like a hollow victory.
Noah's absence weighed heavily on me. His disappearance was chalked up as a missing persons case, and despite my best efforts to explain what had happened, no one believed me. The authorities conducted a search of the area, but they found no trace of the cult, the artifacts, or the clearing. It was as if the forest had swallowed up all the evidence.
I returned to the site where we had parked the truck. The dirt bikes were gone, stolen by opportunistic thieves, but the truck remained. I drove back in silence, the road winding through the dense forest. For a moment, I thought I saw the girl watching me from atop a ridge until I realized it was just paranoia. I stepped on the gas a little harder.
Back home, I checked the Tomb Raiders forum again. The post that had led us into the forest was gone, deleted without a trace. I messaged the mods, but apparently, they don’t keep records to maintain confidentiality. I wrote about our experience, detailing every terrifying moment, but the responses were skeptical at best. Most dismissed it as a work of fiction or a desperate cry for attention.
Time passed, and I tried to return to a semblance of normalcy. Yet, the wilderness called to me stronger than ever. It was my sanctuary, the only place where I could find peace amidst the turmoil. I spent more and more time outdoors than ever before, but now it always felt like I was just running from something.
Determined to prove what had happened, I returned to the forest with a camera and recording equipment. This time, I documented every step, capturing footage of the trees, the snow, and the eerie silence that hung in the air. I retraced our path, hoping to find the clearing again. But each night, as I reviewed the footage, something strange would happen. The files would be corrupted or entire segments missing.
I pressed on. I found the site where Noah had fallen, the ground still bearing faint traces of what had happened. I set up the camera and began to speak, recounting the events in detail. As I spoke, a cold wind swept through the clearing, and the camera's screen flickered. I finished my account and turned to check the recording, only to find the file corrupted once again, the footage replaced by static and a faint, mocking laughter.
I returned home, defeated and exhausted. My attempts to share what I had experienced were met with disbelief and ridicule. The files I managed to save were corrupted beyond recognition. It was as if the forest itself was conspiring against me.
Almost exactly one year later, as I browsed the forums, a new post caught my eye. It was cryptic, eerily similar to the one that had led us into the nightmare. It spoke of another trove of artifacts, hidden deep within the wilderness, waiting to be claimed.
The post was signed with a new name: Skygge. Different handle, same style. Another trap. They had taken so much from me, left scars that would never heal. I opened my drawer, my fingers brushing over the cold metal of my weapons. This was the moment I had been waiting for. This time, I'll be ready.
The forest’s secrets won't remain hidden forever.
submitted by Arbrand to nosleep [link] [comments]
The first time I visited the Pacific Northwest, I was enchanted. The scenery was breathtaking—majestic mountains, lush fields, and meandering rivers. It was clear that anyone who praised the desert's beauty had never laid eyes on the Cascades. Seeing grass and wildflowers growing without irrigation was practically a revelation.
When I was old enough, I moved to Washington state, immersing myself in nature every weekend. My adventures took me hiking through dense forests, camping by serene lakes, and occasionally taking mushrooms under peaceful waterfalls.
I joined several online forums dedicated to outdoor enthusiasts. One community that particularly fascinated me was the Northwest Tomb Raiders. This group of history buffs and thrill-seekers was dedicated to uncovering artifacts, whether Native American relics or treasures hidden in modern ruins. Many members were collectors, fencing their finds to museums and archaeologists, which made it a rather profitable side gig, should you be lucky enough.
In the fall of 2009, an intriguing post appeared on the forum. A user named Lokk claimed to have discovered a cache of artifacts with Scandinavian origins. He couldn't carry everything back due to the treacherous terrain and his age, so he shared the coordinates, hoping someone else could retrieve the items. I scrolled down to see a few posts of people planning to loot it in the Spring, when the paths have reopened. One user, Patagooner, planned on going as early as possible.
Excited by the prospect, I gathered my two friends, Carl and Noah, for the expedition. They weren't as enthusiastic about camping as I was, but after I told them how much a single arrowhead goes for on the black market, they were on board. It was the start of winter now, which had its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, the rangers would have a harder time spotting us. On the downside, the harsh conditions posed a serious challenge for two inexperienced hikers.
I must’ve blown about four grand at REI on gear for them, justifying it with the knowledge of how much more I would make with two extra packs. That is of course assuming there really were as many artifacts as Lokk had said, and Patagooner hadn’t beaten me there.
The journey began like any other. We met in the pre-dawn darkness and went over our supplies, ensuring we had everything we needed. By mid-morning, we were on our way, my pickup truck winding up the mountain paths. The roads of Olympic National Park were the epitome of the raw, untamed beauty of the Pacific Northwest.
They snake through ancient forests, where towering Douglas firs and Western hemlocks create a verdant canopy overhead. Mist clings to the trees, giving the landscape an ethereal quality. Occasionally, the forest would open up to reveal breathtaking vistas of snow-capped peaks and deep, shadowy valleys.
As we climbed higher, the landscape grew increasingly desolate. The dense forest thinned out, replaced by rugged terrain and jagged rock formations. The air grew colder, and the first flurries of snow began to fall, dusting the ground in a thin, white layer. The road became narrower and more treacherous, winding precariously along the edge of steep cliffs.
Finally, a road closure blockade signaled the end of our journey in the truck. We unloaded three dirt bikes—one mine, two rentals—and continued up the trail. The bikes roared to life, carrying us several more miles into the wilderness. The trail twisted and turned, cutting through dense underbrush and over fallen logs. The snow began to fall more heavily, blanketing the forest floor and muffling the sound of our engines. The world around us grew quieter, more isolated.
Eventually, the snow became too deep to traverse by bike. We dismounted and prepared to continue on foot. The silence of the forest was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches in the wind. I checked my modern GPS, its screen displaying the coordinates and a relief map of our destination.
Suddenly, Carl's excited whisper cut through the stillness. "Hey, look at that!"
He pointed to a small, furry creature ambling through the trees. It took a moment to realize what it was—a bear cub, innocently exploring its surroundings.
My heart sank. "Carl, get back," I hissed, my voice low but urgent. "Where there's a cub, there's a..."
Before I could finish, a massive shape exploded from the trees. The mother bear, easily three times the size of the cub, charged at Carl with a ferocity. She was a blur of dark fur and powerful muscles, her roar echoing through the forest.
"Run!" I yelled, but it was too late. The bear was upon Carl, swiping at him with her massive paws. He screamed as he fell to the ground, the bear towering over him. Desperation and adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest heavy branch and swung it at the bear, hoping to distract her.
Noah joined in, shouting and waving his arms. We had to be careful; one wrong move and she would turn on us. The bear snarled, turning her attention away from Carl for just a moment. It was enough for him to scramble backwards, clutching his bleeding arm.
"We have to get him out of here," I shouted to Noah, who nodded, fear etched on his face. The bear, still enraged, seemed torn between attacking us and protecting her cub.
Using the brief respite, we hauled Carl to his feet. His face was white, and he was clearly in shock. Blood soaked his sleeve, dripping onto the snow. "There's a ranger station about two miles from here," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to get him there. Now."
We half-carried, half-dragged Carl through the forest, every shadow and sound heightening our paranoia.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the small, wooden structure of the ranger station came into view. We had been avoiding the rangers to keep our expedition secret, but now it was our only hope.
Pounding on the door, I prayed for a quick response. The door creaked open, and a weathered face appeared. "What happened?" the ranger demanded, taking in the sight of Carl's bloodied form.
"Bear attack," I gasped. "We need help."
The ranger's expression shifted from suspicion to urgency. "Get him inside. We've got a first aid kit and a radio."
As we eased Carl onto a makeshift bed, the ranger inspected his wounds. "You're lucky," he said after a moment. "The cuts are deep, but they missed any major arteries. He'll need stitches, but we can handle that here. No need for an airlift."
The ranger's face darkened as he turned to me. "What the hell are you boys doing out here?”
I hesitated, "We... we were just exploring."
The ranger's eyes narrowed, his anger palpable. "Exploring? In a restricted area? In the middle of winter? Are you out of your minds?"
He worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and stitching Carl's wounds. Carl winced but stayed silent, his eyes closed in pain.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?" the ranger continued, his voice rising. "The storm, the wildlife... This area is off-limits for a reason! You should have known better." he said, pushing a finger into my chest.
"We'll stay here for the night," he continued, "The storm's getting worse, and it's too dangerous to move him now. We'll reassess in the morning. And count yourself lucky I don't arrest your asses."
The ranger looked at us sternly. "I need to check the perimeter and make sure everything is secure. There are things out there you don’t want to encounter, especially in this storm."
"Things? What do you mean?" Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The ranger's expression hardened. "Just stay put. No matter what you see or hear, do not leave this cabin. Understood?"
We nodded, the seriousness in his tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll stay put," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The ranger grabbed his coat and shotgun. "I'll be back in an hour. Do not leave this cabin." With that, he opened the door and stepped into the raging storm, disappearing into the darkness.
As soon as the door closed, I turned to Noah. "We need to go. Now."
Noah's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? He said to stay put."
"If we wait until morning, we'll be escorted out of here and lose our chance. This might be our only opportunity to find those artifacts."
Noah hesitated with uncertainty "But... what about Carl?"
"He'll be fine here. The ranger can take care of him. We have to do this now."
Reluctantly, Noah nodded. "Alright. Let's take what we can and go."
We quickly looted extra gear from the cabin. I checked the GPS one last time before we slipped out into the storm, the cold wind battering us.
The snow fell heavily, obscuring our vision as we slogged through the forest. The ranger was nowhere in sight as we made our way towards the our destination, each step filled with trepidatious excitement.
Noah and I exchanged glances, our eyes wide with amazement. "Do you see this?" I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
"We're going to be rich," Noah replied, his voice trembling with awe. "These must be worth a fortune!"
We approached cautiously, as if the vision before us might disappear. The craftsmanship was stunning. I reached out to touch a carved wooden idol, marveling at the detail. "This is incredible," I said, my voice barely audible.
We began to load our packs with as many artifacts as we could carry, each one more exquisite than the last. It was beyond our wildest dreams. We were so engrossed in our task that we didn't notice the small figure watching us from the ridge.
It wasn't until I turned to leave that I saw her. A young girl, maybe eight years old, stood there, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. She was dressed in simple, rustic clothing, her blonde straight hair blowing gently in the wind. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
"Noah," I whispered urgently, nudging him. "Look."
He turned, his eyes following my gaze. "What the...?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
The girl took a tentative step forward, her eyes fixed on the items in our hands. There was no fear in her gaze, only a quiet intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She tilted her head slightly. "My name is Sigyn."
"What are you doing out here, Sigyn?" Noah asked, his voice shaky.
"I live here,"
"You live here?" I echoed, incredulous. "Is there anyone else around?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Where?" Noah demanded, looking around nervously.
"Everywhere," she said with a giggle.
The way she said it, so matter-of-factly, bothered me deeply. Noah and I exchanged a look, both of us trying to figure out what to do next.
"We can't take her back to the ranger," Noah started, "We'll lose everything."
I nodded, my mind racing. "Sigyn," I said slowly, "we need to know who else is here. Can you help us?"
She looked at me with her piercing blue eyes, then said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Noah asked.
"For what's going to happen to you," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
She looked up at him, unperturbed. "I am not alone," she said softly.
Before we could press her further, a loud, guttural mooing sound echoed through the clearing. We turned towards the direction the girl had come from, and there, emerging from the shadows, was the silhouette of an elk. As it approached, my stomach dropped. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of life and decay. Its skull was fully exposed, the eye sockets dark and empty. Large patches of its ribs were visible, the flesh around them rotted away.
The elk's movements were slow and deliberate, its head swaying as if in a trance. It walked directly towards us, its hollow eyes fixed on Sigyn. The closer it got, the more the stench of death filled the air—a nauseating mix of decay and earth. I fought the urge to retch.
Sigyn stood up, her expression calm. The monster sniffed her gently, its nostrils flaring. Without a word, she climbed onto its back, mounting it like a horse. It was a surreal and horrifying scene ripped straight from a nightmare.
As she settled onto the elk, she looked back at us, "A thief in the night shall reap what he sows," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. "Beware the price of stolen dreams."
With that, the beast turned and began to walk away, Sigyn riding it into the shadows of the forest. We stood there, frozen in place. The realization that we were in far over our heads began to sink in. This started to feel like a trap.
We turned to leave, our packs heavy with the pilfered goods. But as we took our first steps, the forest around us seemed to come alive. Shadows moved among the trees, and whispers floated on the wind. I quickened my pace, glancing nervously over my shoulder.
"Did you hear that?" Noah asked sharply,
"Just keep moving," I commanded.
A figure emerged from the shadows, blocking our path. It was a man, tall and gaunt, his eyes burning with an intense light. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
"We're leaving," I stammered. "We didn't mean any harm."
The man smirked, and with a swift motion, he raised his hand. More figures appeared, closing in on us from all sides. We were surrounded.
"Run!" I shouted, shoving Noah forward.
We sprinted through the forest, branches whipping at our faces and legs. The figures pursued us, their footsteps silent and relentless.
Noah stumbled and fell, his pack spilling open. Statues scattered across the ground, glinting in the moonlight. "Help!" he cried, scrambling to gather the items.
"Leave them!" I shouted, pulling him to his feet. "We have to keep moving!"
But it was too late, their hands seizing us. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but their grips were too strong. They forced us to the ground, binding our hands with rough, coarse ropes.
"Please," I begged, "Don't hurt us."
The man who had first appeared stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "A thief in the night," he mocked.
They dragged us through the forest, the trees closing in around us like a cage. We were at their mercy.
In the distance, I could see the elk standing at the edge of the clearing, Sigyn still astride its back. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pity. But then they turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.
Her eyes were milk white, devoid of pupils, and her long, flowing white hair cascaded down her back. She was completely naked, her skin pale and marked with intricate symbols. Atop her head, she wore an elk skull, its antlers extending like eerie, skeletal fingers. She beat a drum emblazoned with more of the same cryptic symbols, each thud resonating deep within my chest.
Around the fire, about two dozen people stood, all drinking from crude, horned cups. Their faces were solemn, eyes fixed on the woman as she led them in a haunting chant. The atmosphere was thick with a mix of reverence and intoxication.
We were forced to our knees before the woman, who paused her drumming to look down at us. Her gaze was haunting, as if she could see into the very depths of our souls.
"Who are you?" Noah demanded, his voice trembling.
The woman ignored him, raising her arms to the sky. The chanting grew louder, the rhythm of the drum faster and more frenzied. The air around us seemed to vibrate with energy, the flames of the bonfire growing higher and more intense.
I glanced at Noah, fear mirrored in his eyes. The woman began to speak, her voice low and melodic, but filled with power, in a language I couldn't understand. Suddenly, she stopped, lowering her arms. The chanting ceased, and an silence fell over the clearing. She looked directly at me, her white eyes unblinking.
En tjuv i natten skördar vad han sår, akta dig för drömmar som du stjäl och får.
Hans skratt bevakar lundens gömda stig, där skuggor sveper över skogens liv.
För varje stulet andetag och svek, måste en tjuv möta sitt smärtsamma ödelek.
Tricksterns vilja, vår ande här, så i hans nåd, våra liv bär.
I was terrified and confused. She started again, softer, in a way I could understand.
A thief in the night shall reap what he sows, beware the price of stolen dreams.
His laughter guards our hidden groves, where shadows cloak the forest's seams.
For every stolen breath and lie, a thief must meet his painful end.
The tricksters will, our spirits tie, so in his grace, our lives suspend.
The crowd surged forward, grabbing Noah first. He screamed, his terror echoing through the trees as they pulled him towards a makeshift altar beside the bonfire. The woman chanted louder, her voice rising in a hypnotic rhythm as they began their gruesome work.
They stripped him of his shirt and bound his arms to a wooden frame. I tried to move, to help him, but the grip on my shoulders tightened, pinning me to the ground.
The woman approached Noah, holding a knife with a blade that gleamed in the firelight. She started to slice into his back, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Noah's screams pierced the night as she methodically carved the shape of wings into his flesh.
Blood poured from the wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. The crowd's chant grew louder, almost drowning out his cries. I watched in horror as the woman reached into the incisions, breaking the ribs and pulling them outward, creating a parody of wings.
Noah's agony was unbearable to witness. His screams turned to whimpers, his body convulsing in pain. The woman didn't stop until the work was complete, his lungs exposed and hanging grotesquely from his back.
They lifted Noah's broken body and placed him over the fire. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, making me gag. His life ebbed away as the flames consumed him, the once vibrant light in his eyes fading to nothing.
The woman turned to me, her expression devoid of mercy. "You will meet the same fate," she said, "He demands it."
A deafening blast shattered the night. My eyes flew open to see the shaman stumbling backward, a gaping wound in her chest. She collapsed to the ground, her white eyes staring lifelessly into the void.
The villagers turned in shock as another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the men holding me. I twisted free from their grasp and saw the park ranger standing at the edge of the clearing, a pump-action shotgun in his hands. He fired again, the sound echoing through the forest, before one of them tackled him to the ground.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice raw and desperate. "Get the hell out of here!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted into the darkness, the chaos of the clearing fading behind me. Branches whipped at my face, and the snow underfoot made every step a struggle. I could hear the sounds of fighting and gunshots, but I forced myself to keep moving.
The cold air burned in my lungs, but adrenaline pushed me forward. I didn't stop until I reached the station, my legs threatening to give out from under me. I burst through the door and slammed it behind me.
Inside, Carl lay where we had left him, his face pale and twisted in pain. I stumbled to the radio, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the controls.
"Mayday, mayday!" I yelled into the microphone. "This is an emergency! We need help! Please, someone, come quickly!"
Static filled the room, punctuated by my ragged breaths. I repeated the call, my voice growing more frantic with each passing second. Finally, a voice crackled through the speaker. "This is Ranger Station Bravo. What's your location? Over."
I could barely form the words. "Olympic National Park! The ranger station near mount Christie! We're under attack! Please, send help!"
"Copy that. Help is on the way. Stay put and stay safe. Over."
I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. Carl moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. "What… What happened? Where's Noah?”
Tears streamed down my face and I found myself choked up. “He’s gone, man. Help is coming.”
The minutes stretched into an eternity as we waited. The wind howled around the station, and every creak and groan of the structure set my nerves on edge. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the forest itself was closing in on us.
The radio crackled again, this time with a different voice. "Helicopter en route, ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare for extraction."
I glanced at Carl, his eyes filled with confusion. "Hang on. We're getting out of here."
As the minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but think about the ranger. He had saved my life, but he hadn't made it back. My mind conjured up images of what might have happened to him, the cultists overwhelming him in the darkness. A sense of guilt gnawed at me, knowing he had sacrificed himself for us.
The sound of rotors cut through the night, growing louder as the helicopter approached. I ran to the window and saw its searchlight piercing the treetops, scanning for the station.
I helped Carl to his feet, supporting his weight as we made our way to the hatch. The helicopter hovered above, lowering a rescue basket. The wind from the rotors whipped the snow into a frenzy, but I didn't care. Salvation was finally here.
We secured Carl in the basket first, and I watched as he was hoisted up, disappearing into the safety of the helicopter. My turn was next. I realized that I was now alone and exposed. Fear coursing through me as I scanned around the edge of the forest, expecting to be grabbed and taken seconds before my rescue. But the moment never came. As I gripped the rope, I took one last look at the forest below. The flames of the bonfire still flickered in the distance.
I was lifted into the air, the ground falling away beneath me. The helicopter's crew pulled me inside, and I collapsed onto the floor still holding onto my pack, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. The doors closed, and the helicopter banked away, leaving the horrors of the park behind.
Noah's absence weighed heavily on me. His disappearance was chalked up as a missing persons case, and despite my best efforts to explain what had happened, no one believed me. The authorities conducted a search of the area, but they found no trace of the cult, the artifacts, or the clearing. It was as if the forest had swallowed up all the evidence.
I returned to the site where we had parked the truck. The dirt bikes were gone, stolen by opportunistic thieves, but the truck remained. I drove back in silence, the road winding through the dense forest. For a moment, I thought I saw the girl watching me from atop a ridge until I realized it was just paranoia. I stepped on the gas a little harder.
Back home, I checked the Tomb Raiders forum again. The post that had led us into the forest was gone, deleted without a trace. I messaged the mods, but apparently, they don’t keep records to maintain confidentiality. I wrote about our experience, detailing every terrifying moment, but the responses were skeptical at best. Most dismissed it as a work of fiction or a desperate cry for attention.
Time passed, and I tried to return to a semblance of normalcy. Yet, the wilderness called to me stronger than ever. It was my sanctuary, the only place where I could find peace amidst the turmoil. I spent more and more time outdoors than ever before, but now it always felt like I was just running from something.
Determined to prove what had happened, I returned to the forest with a camera and recording equipment. This time, I documented every step, capturing footage of the trees, the snow, and the eerie silence that hung in the air. I retraced our path, hoping to find the clearing again. But each night, as I reviewed the footage, something strange would happen. The files would be corrupted or entire segments missing.
I pressed on. I found the site where Noah had fallen, the ground still bearing faint traces of what had happened. I set up the camera and began to speak, recounting the events in detail. As I spoke, a cold wind swept through the clearing, and the camera's screen flickered. I finished my account and turned to check the recording, only to find the file corrupted once again, the footage replaced by static and a faint, mocking laughter.
I returned home, defeated and exhausted. My attempts to share what I had experienced were met with disbelief and ridicule. The files I managed to save were corrupted beyond recognition. It was as if the forest itself was conspiring against me.
Almost exactly one year later, as I browsed the forums, a new post caught my eye. It was cryptic, eerily similar to the one that had led us into the nightmare. It spoke of another trove of artifacts, hidden deep within the wilderness, waiting to be claimed.
The post was signed with a new name: Skygge. Different handle, same style. Another trap. They had taken so much from me, left scars that would never heal. I opened my drawer, my fingers brushing over the cold metal of my weapons. This was the moment I had been waiting for. This time, I'll be ready.
The forest’s secrets won't remain hidden forever.
2024.05.16 14:02 maximusaemilius Empyrean Iris: 2-183 The best outcome (by Charlie Star)
FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
*Starts to cry* I am so so happy! Isn’t that great? Finally some good news and great things to go forward!
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Breaking News tonight from the Apollo 11 memorial landing site, as Admiral Adam Vir and Captains Warren Richards and Mary Chavez were rescued from the Pacific Ocean, following a journey that was supposed to be historical, turned harrowing. Amy Grey comes to us this morning with the story.
Thank you Julie, it was only a week ago here on the historic Cape Canaveral launch site, that the reconstructed Saturn V rocket was launched by the UNSC International Space and Aeronautics Division on the two thousand and fifty first anniversary of the original Apollo 11 mission. On board The reconstructed rocket were astronauts Fleet Admiral Adam Vir, head of the UNSC deep space exploration division, Captain Warren Richards five year veteran and historical aeronautics expert, and Mary Chavez, six year shuttle pilot veteran, and communications specialist.
The reconstructed Saturn V rocket took off thirty minutes behind schedule at 10:03 GMT July 16 after delays attributed to engineering standbys. However, reports by UNSC investigation early this morning indicate that the delays were called for by engineering head Jade Clein who noticed something strange during her final checks of the Saturn V recreated rocket.
In an interview early today, flight director, Aaliyah Seif of the Apollo re-creation mission informed outlets that there was evidence of attempted tampering on the hull of the Saturn V rocket. The tampering case in the shape of these small silver tape strips covering loosened bolts along one of the Saturn V side panels. Engineers stated that the tape was not heat resistant and would have burned off in time to rattle the bolts loose and, likely, cause a devastating spin that would destroy the rocket.
While this attempted tampering was thwarted, the mission would only become more dire. A sudden and shocking report by Mericanda News 5 showed an uncut image of an unknown alien hybrid woman claiming that the UN President had ordered the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, in conjunction with an audio recording by Admiral Colter Massie, Head of the Galactic intelligence division and known isolationist, that admitted to the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, and the acquisition of twenty Thunderhawk’s, which were used to harry the Saturn V on its way to the moon. Admiral Kelly, longtime friend of Admiral Vir, corroborated the story, saying she caught General Massie just after he ordered the deployment of the twenty Thunderhawk’s. During their conversion, he attempted to kill her, before being detained by two members of Admiral Vir's crew, and was later seen being escorted into custody by Military Police.
Indeed, footage has been captured from the hull of the Saturn V, showing approximately twenty Thunderhawk’s attempting to destroy the rocket while Rundi remote piloted drones and an unknown group of what appear to be racing jets, fought back to delay the attack, while word was sent to the UNSC to deploy F-90 Darkfire pilots to assist. This all after communications between Houston and the rocket were sabotaged shortly after leaving orbit. The F-90 Darkfire pilots were able to arrive on time to rescue the rocket, though a hole was reportedly torn in the hull, sucking Admiral Vir out into space. Luckily, he was later recovered and returned to his ship without any injuries. Patch teams were then able to repair the torn hull and the astronauts completed their mission landing to crowds on the moon and returning to earth on time, landing in the Pacific Ocean only nine miles away from the waiting ship.
All three astronauts were recovered and are reported to be in good health.
The investigation into the UN president's involvement is still ongoing at this time, however preliminary reports from the Global Bureau of Investigation suggest evidence is both staggering and damning to the current UN president, who earlier today, attempted to cut all ties to the sabotage efforts, saying she was framed. Political experts report that, even assuming her innocence, she will likely not last to the end of her term.
International News Network was able to interview Admiral Vir shortly after his landing while still on board the rescuing ship UNSS Victory.
Here is what the Admiral had to say:
"I find it... Really very disheartening that someone we all trusted, and someone that we all should have looked up to could do something like this. It really is a heinous demonstration of what political corruption can lead people to do."
"And how do you feel, personally about all of this?"
"Personally, I... well to be honest I am hurt and appalled. Not to mention that I fear for the safety of my family and my friends. Every day I wonder if my involvement with them is going to get someone I love killed... The thought haunts me, but I hope after all of this is over I... and all of us can breathe a little easier."
"Were you scared?"
"I don't think that even needs to be a question. Of course I was scared, getting sucked out of your spaceship isn't ideal."
"What do you hope will happen now?"
"I hope that justice can be upheld to those who deserve it."
"What do you have to say to the UN president."
”...”
”So?”
"I have nothing to say. Wouldn't want to waste the air.”
[…]
What followed would be one of the largest scandals in recent political history. At some point an unknown number of classified government documents was leaked onto the internet, and after that it was all over for the Presidency. Thousands of enterprising humans, and aliens alike, viewed the documents to discover all the underhanded and dirty things which had been going on in the UN governmental body over the past few years. Forensic accounting experts (mostly Tesraki), uncovered plenty of fiscal tampering which shed light on plenty of isolationist related projects and bank accounts. There was even evidence that they had something to do with the original assassination attempt against Admiral Vir so many months ago. The drama had even managed to capture the attention of Rundi political experts and Vrul computer science geniuses, and together they unearthed a world of unfathomable, but not unexpected corruption. The process to remove the UN president from office was probably one of the fastest movements of human government ever seen by UN congressional leaders, who were likely trying their very best to distance themselves from association with the president, who despite not being the only one involved, had become the political scapegoat for everyone else that had a supposed link with isolationism.
Even the VP fell under suspicion and was watched closely for the rest of his term.
Admiral Massie and the UN President were placed under arrest and set up for court dates in the nearing future, though everyone saw a long and arduous litigation process ahead. Even Ramirez's family had filed for damages against the government after the news came to light, confirming that their son had been shot as collateral in one of the UN presidents plans to assassinate Admiral Vir. They settled out of court to the tune of an unknown, but impressive sum of money.
No one really knew how much, but a couple months later Ramirez's younger sister was seen training at one of the most prestigious Olympic academies on earth.
Ramirez himself was suddenly able to afford housing on the moon in a condo just next door to his best friend, though no one else inquired further.
The Rundi chairwoman came forward with her own investigation, admitting to being suspicious for a long time though she feared accusations without proper proof. Admiral Vir was seen having lunch with her not so many months after the events took place, suggesting that the trust between the two of them had not been completely dissolved. With much of the isolationist element gone from government, public policy began to lean heavily towards integration with the alliance. The occasional isolationist demonstration or protest was held, but none of them managed to gain traction.
Admiral Vir was finding himself more important than ever, though it was to his chagrin that his ship was grounded for the intervening months while the investigation continued.
No one was entirely sure what the future held.
[…]
Admiral Vir stepped into Admiral Kelly's office. The last time he had actually visited her here had been over a few years ago, before his promotion to captain of the Harbinger. It seemed so distant now, and he never expected to walk into her office with a star on his shoulder. She stood as he entered, and the two of them shook hands, ignoring all the stuffy formalities that usually come with the meeting of two military officers.
The wall behind her was decorated with a myriad of metals and awards she had received over her career, and he couldn't help but note the slight tinge of grey he could see forming in her hair. He knew that feeling, he was going prematurely white much to his chagrin. She stood and the two of them shook hands.
"Vir."
"Kelly."
She motioned him to sit, and he sat, sighing lightly as he had been on his feet all day consulting with political figures and other members of the UNSC.
"A strange couple months wouldn't you say?”
"Tell me about it."
Kelly reached under her desk and withdrew an amber bottle which she placed between them,
"I always forget; do you drink?"
"On occasion."
"Well consider this an occasion."
She said, popping off the top and pouring two glasses for them. She handed his across the desk and he leaned back in his seat cupping the cool glass in both hands.
She swirled the amber liquid around in her glass,
"So what are your plans after all this?”
He took a sip of water warmed by the burning liquid,
"Hoping things will go back to normal and I can go back to traveling the galaxy."
Kelly grunted,
"A simple man with simple motivations."
He laughed,
"Sometimes I think a stupid man with simple motivations."
She chuckled then grew serious,
"A lot of people make the mistake of assuming simple people don't have the intelligence to match. Some people assume that trusting means gullible means dumb. Just because we are trusting and expect others to do the right thing is not necessarily a fault. I believe there is a kind of beauty in assuming the fundamental goodness of humanity."
Admiral Vir shook his head,
"How can you after seeing what we have seen?”
"How can you not?"
She shrugged,
"We always knew that politicians were corrupt, but think about everything else we have seen."
Admiral Vir nodded slowly,
"The enthusiasm for the Apollo 11 recreation mission, the people who flew up to help us. All of those people who went digging through years of information just to uncover the truth."
She raised her glass,
"Precisely. Goodness in humanity is all around us, but we tend to overlook the good in favor of the bad."
She placed her hat on the desk and sighed,
"It is up to good people to keep their goodness going even when it might seem easier to give into the bad. I have and will always believe in the fundamental good of humanity. Some may call it naive, or even stupid. Others have said I have a romanticized view of a species that is fundamentally broken."
She turned her head to look out the window, a contemplative expression on her face before turning back to look at Adam.
"You understand me, I think."
He nodded slowly.
"People need to be believed in. You tell someone for long enough that they are fundamentally bad at their core and they will begin to believe you. For thousands of years pessimists have gotten it into our heads that we are no better than animals, worse even since animals don't fight in wars. But I believe that is wrong, I have seen people, I have met people, and I have interacted with people who prove to me that humanity cannot just be fundamentally bad or else these people wouldn't exist."
She tapped her nails against the glass,
"I think it is easier to corrupt purity than wash away a stain."
He listened quietly as she continued.
"Humans are born good, Adam, and life stains us. We aren't born stained while some of us are wiped clean."
She shook her head,
"Doesn't make sense to me."
She caught him with a look, pinning him to the spot with her intense stare,
"People like you convince me of this every day."
"Me!?..."
She held up a hand.
"Adam Vir, I am convinced that the best outcome this universe ever had, was when a happy go lucky science fiction freak was lucky enough to be the first man to meet aliens. Any other way things would have gone horribly wrong."
She leaned across her desk,
"The universe needs men and women like you, and not only that but the universe needs people who are going to support men and women like you."
She sat back,
"Which is why I have made a decision…"
He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, not entirely sure where this could be going.
She smiled,
"I have decided to run for UN President."
He nearly spit his mouthful of expensive scotch onto the table, but managed to choke it mostly down.
Eyes wide he set his glass down,
"Are you serious?”
She smiled,
"Seriously serious."
"Well shit, you have my vote for sure."
He raised his glass to her,
"I couldn't think of a better outcome."
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.
submitted by maximusaemilius to HFY [link] [comments]
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
*Starts to cry* I am so so happy! Isn’t that great? Finally some good news and great things to go forward!
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Thank you Julie, it was only a week ago here on the historic Cape Canaveral launch site, that the reconstructed Saturn V rocket was launched by the UNSC International Space and Aeronautics Division on the two thousand and fifty first anniversary of the original Apollo 11 mission. On board The reconstructed rocket were astronauts Fleet Admiral Adam Vir, head of the UNSC deep space exploration division, Captain Warren Richards five year veteran and historical aeronautics expert, and Mary Chavez, six year shuttle pilot veteran, and communications specialist.
The reconstructed Saturn V rocket took off thirty minutes behind schedule at 10:03 GMT July 16 after delays attributed to engineering standbys. However, reports by UNSC investigation early this morning indicate that the delays were called for by engineering head Jade Clein who noticed something strange during her final checks of the Saturn V recreated rocket.
In an interview early today, flight director, Aaliyah Seif of the Apollo re-creation mission informed outlets that there was evidence of attempted tampering on the hull of the Saturn V rocket. The tampering case in the shape of these small silver tape strips covering loosened bolts along one of the Saturn V side panels. Engineers stated that the tape was not heat resistant and would have burned off in time to rattle the bolts loose and, likely, cause a devastating spin that would destroy the rocket.
While this attempted tampering was thwarted, the mission would only become more dire. A sudden and shocking report by Mericanda News 5 showed an uncut image of an unknown alien hybrid woman claiming that the UN President had ordered the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, in conjunction with an audio recording by Admiral Colter Massie, Head of the Galactic intelligence division and known isolationist, that admitted to the attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, and the acquisition of twenty Thunderhawk’s, which were used to harry the Saturn V on its way to the moon. Admiral Kelly, longtime friend of Admiral Vir, corroborated the story, saying she caught General Massie just after he ordered the deployment of the twenty Thunderhawk’s. During their conversion, he attempted to kill her, before being detained by two members of Admiral Vir's crew, and was later seen being escorted into custody by Military Police.
Indeed, footage has been captured from the hull of the Saturn V, showing approximately twenty Thunderhawk’s attempting to destroy the rocket while Rundi remote piloted drones and an unknown group of what appear to be racing jets, fought back to delay the attack, while word was sent to the UNSC to deploy F-90 Darkfire pilots to assist. This all after communications between Houston and the rocket were sabotaged shortly after leaving orbit. The F-90 Darkfire pilots were able to arrive on time to rescue the rocket, though a hole was reportedly torn in the hull, sucking Admiral Vir out into space. Luckily, he was later recovered and returned to his ship without any injuries. Patch teams were then able to repair the torn hull and the astronauts completed their mission landing to crowds on the moon and returning to earth on time, landing in the Pacific Ocean only nine miles away from the waiting ship.
All three astronauts were recovered and are reported to be in good health.
The investigation into the UN president's involvement is still ongoing at this time, however preliminary reports from the Global Bureau of Investigation suggest evidence is both staggering and damning to the current UN president, who earlier today, attempted to cut all ties to the sabotage efforts, saying she was framed. Political experts report that, even assuming her innocence, she will likely not last to the end of her term.
International News Network was able to interview Admiral Vir shortly after his landing while still on board the rescuing ship UNSS Victory.
Here is what the Admiral had to say:
"I find it... Really very disheartening that someone we all trusted, and someone that we all should have looked up to could do something like this. It really is a heinous demonstration of what political corruption can lead people to do."
"And how do you feel, personally about all of this?"
"Personally, I... well to be honest I am hurt and appalled. Not to mention that I fear for the safety of my family and my friends. Every day I wonder if my involvement with them is going to get someone I love killed... The thought haunts me, but I hope after all of this is over I... and all of us can breathe a little easier."
"Were you scared?"
"I don't think that even needs to be a question. Of course I was scared, getting sucked out of your spaceship isn't ideal."
"What do you hope will happen now?"
"I hope that justice can be upheld to those who deserve it."
"What do you have to say to the UN president."
”...”
”So?”
"I have nothing to say. Wouldn't want to waste the air.”
What followed would be one of the largest scandals in recent political history. At some point an unknown number of classified government documents was leaked onto the internet, and after that it was all over for the Presidency. Thousands of enterprising humans, and aliens alike, viewed the documents to discover all the underhanded and dirty things which had been going on in the UN governmental body over the past few years. Forensic accounting experts (mostly Tesraki), uncovered plenty of fiscal tampering which shed light on plenty of isolationist related projects and bank accounts. There was even evidence that they had something to do with the original assassination attempt against Admiral Vir so many months ago. The drama had even managed to capture the attention of Rundi political experts and Vrul computer science geniuses, and together they unearthed a world of unfathomable, but not unexpected corruption. The process to remove the UN president from office was probably one of the fastest movements of human government ever seen by UN congressional leaders, who were likely trying their very best to distance themselves from association with the president, who despite not being the only one involved, had become the political scapegoat for everyone else that had a supposed link with isolationism.
Even the VP fell under suspicion and was watched closely for the rest of his term.
Admiral Massie and the UN President were placed under arrest and set up for court dates in the nearing future, though everyone saw a long and arduous litigation process ahead. Even Ramirez's family had filed for damages against the government after the news came to light, confirming that their son had been shot as collateral in one of the UN presidents plans to assassinate Admiral Vir. They settled out of court to the tune of an unknown, but impressive sum of money.
No one really knew how much, but a couple months later Ramirez's younger sister was seen training at one of the most prestigious Olympic academies on earth.
Ramirez himself was suddenly able to afford housing on the moon in a condo just next door to his best friend, though no one else inquired further.
The Rundi chairwoman came forward with her own investigation, admitting to being suspicious for a long time though she feared accusations without proper proof. Admiral Vir was seen having lunch with her not so many months after the events took place, suggesting that the trust between the two of them had not been completely dissolved. With much of the isolationist element gone from government, public policy began to lean heavily towards integration with the alliance. The occasional isolationist demonstration or protest was held, but none of them managed to gain traction.
Admiral Vir was finding himself more important than ever, though it was to his chagrin that his ship was grounded for the intervening months while the investigation continued.
No one was entirely sure what the future held.
Admiral Vir stepped into Admiral Kelly's office. The last time he had actually visited her here had been over a few years ago, before his promotion to captain of the Harbinger. It seemed so distant now, and he never expected to walk into her office with a star on his shoulder. She stood as he entered, and the two of them shook hands, ignoring all the stuffy formalities that usually come with the meeting of two military officers.
The wall behind her was decorated with a myriad of metals and awards she had received over her career, and he couldn't help but note the slight tinge of grey he could see forming in her hair. He knew that feeling, he was going prematurely white much to his chagrin. She stood and the two of them shook hands.
"Vir."
"Kelly."
She motioned him to sit, and he sat, sighing lightly as he had been on his feet all day consulting with political figures and other members of the UNSC.
"A strange couple months wouldn't you say?”
"Tell me about it."
Kelly reached under her desk and withdrew an amber bottle which she placed between them,
"I always forget; do you drink?"
"On occasion."
"Well consider this an occasion."
She said, popping off the top and pouring two glasses for them. She handed his across the desk and he leaned back in his seat cupping the cool glass in both hands.
She swirled the amber liquid around in her glass,
"So what are your plans after all this?”
He took a sip of water warmed by the burning liquid,
"Hoping things will go back to normal and I can go back to traveling the galaxy."
Kelly grunted,
"A simple man with simple motivations."
He laughed,
"Sometimes I think a stupid man with simple motivations."
She chuckled then grew serious,
"A lot of people make the mistake of assuming simple people don't have the intelligence to match. Some people assume that trusting means gullible means dumb. Just because we are trusting and expect others to do the right thing is not necessarily a fault. I believe there is a kind of beauty in assuming the fundamental goodness of humanity."
Admiral Vir shook his head,
"How can you after seeing what we have seen?”
"How can you not?"
She shrugged,
"We always knew that politicians were corrupt, but think about everything else we have seen."
Admiral Vir nodded slowly,
"The enthusiasm for the Apollo 11 recreation mission, the people who flew up to help us. All of those people who went digging through years of information just to uncover the truth."
She raised her glass,
"Precisely. Goodness in humanity is all around us, but we tend to overlook the good in favor of the bad."
She placed her hat on the desk and sighed,
"It is up to good people to keep their goodness going even when it might seem easier to give into the bad. I have and will always believe in the fundamental good of humanity. Some may call it naive, or even stupid. Others have said I have a romanticized view of a species that is fundamentally broken."
She turned her head to look out the window, a contemplative expression on her face before turning back to look at Adam.
"You understand me, I think."
He nodded slowly.
"People need to be believed in. You tell someone for long enough that they are fundamentally bad at their core and they will begin to believe you. For thousands of years pessimists have gotten it into our heads that we are no better than animals, worse even since animals don't fight in wars. But I believe that is wrong, I have seen people, I have met people, and I have interacted with people who prove to me that humanity cannot just be fundamentally bad or else these people wouldn't exist."
She tapped her nails against the glass,
"I think it is easier to corrupt purity than wash away a stain."
He listened quietly as she continued.
"Humans are born good, Adam, and life stains us. We aren't born stained while some of us are wiped clean."
She shook her head,
"Doesn't make sense to me."
She caught him with a look, pinning him to the spot with her intense stare,
"People like you convince me of this every day."
"Me!?..."
She held up a hand.
"Adam Vir, I am convinced that the best outcome this universe ever had, was when a happy go lucky science fiction freak was lucky enough to be the first man to meet aliens. Any other way things would have gone horribly wrong."
She leaned across her desk,
"The universe needs men and women like you, and not only that but the universe needs people who are going to support men and women like you."
She sat back,
"Which is why I have made a decision…"
He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, not entirely sure where this could be going.
She smiled,
"I have decided to run for UN President."
He nearly spit his mouthful of expensive scotch onto the table, but managed to choke it mostly down.
Eyes wide he set his glass down,
"Are you serious?”
She smiled,
"Seriously serious."
"Well shit, you have my vote for sure."
He raised his glass to her,
"I couldn't think of a better outcome."
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.
2024.05.16 05:44 Entire_Nectarine8662 Poly bdsm recs with banter / hierarchy between subs
I read {The Dominant Bastard Duology by Sparrow Beckett} recently and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Its MMF with a dom(M), switch (M) and sub (F).
There is a specific scene where they were sort of arguing over which of the sub has superiorty since they both submit to the dom.
Another example is {Sir by N.R. Walker} which is MMM where the first sub is “superior” to the other since he was first acquired first so he is in charge of the second sub when the dom is not there. I DNF’d this because I did not like the setting (the fact that they lived in a world where masteslave are the norm).
Also {The Sharp Edge of Bliss by Sorcha Black}. This is MMF. Dom (M) hires escort(F) who basically becomes his sub’s (M) girlfriend. The F is submissive to both men while the male sub only submits to the dom (therefore there is a hierarchy between the subs) but her and the male sub have a relationship between themselves too.
These are the only books that I know has this dynamic and I know its a bit specific so I’m open to any book you think would fit.
YES TO: 1. 24/7 dynamic would be a bonus but its fine without 2. hierarchy between submissives is kinda specific so I would be ok with some sort of relationship between the subs outside of serving the dom. It could be some banter, them hanging out on their own, maybe shit talking the dom as a joke or just anything thats between them 3. Size difference between characters (larger dom, smaller subs), strict roles (dom top; subs bottom) 4. Can be omegaverse, fantasy, contemporary etc. 5. It would be a bonus if the subs form a relationship when they enter the relationship with the dom instead of an established relationship between the subs where a dom joins. ALTHOUGH, an established d/s relationship where the other sub joins would be fine.
Again, I know this is VERY specific and the chance of lucking out are very high, so if you have read a book that matches the vibe but may not be EXACTLY what I want then I would be eternally grateful.
submitted by Entire_Nectarine8662 to MM_RomanceBooks [link] [comments]
There is a specific scene where they were sort of arguing over which of the sub has superiorty since they both submit to the dom.
Another example is {Sir by N.R. Walker} which is MMM where the first sub is “superior” to the other since he was first acquired first so he is in charge of the second sub when the dom is not there. I DNF’d this because I did not like the setting (the fact that they lived in a world where masteslave are the norm).
Also {The Sharp Edge of Bliss by Sorcha Black}. This is MMF. Dom (M) hires escort(F) who basically becomes his sub’s (M) girlfriend. The F is submissive to both men while the male sub only submits to the dom (therefore there is a hierarchy between the subs) but her and the male sub have a relationship between themselves too.
These are the only books that I know has this dynamic and I know its a bit specific so I’m open to any book you think would fit.
YES TO: 1. 24/7 dynamic would be a bonus but its fine without 2. hierarchy between submissives is kinda specific so I would be ok with some sort of relationship between the subs outside of serving the dom. It could be some banter, them hanging out on their own, maybe shit talking the dom as a joke or just anything thats between them 3. Size difference between characters (larger dom, smaller subs), strict roles (dom top; subs bottom) 4. Can be omegaverse, fantasy, contemporary etc. 5. It would be a bonus if the subs form a relationship when they enter the relationship with the dom instead of an established relationship between the subs where a dom joins. ALTHOUGH, an established d/s relationship where the other sub joins would be fine.
Again, I know this is VERY specific and the chance of lucking out are very high, so if you have read a book that matches the vibe but may not be EXACTLY what I want then I would be eternally grateful.
2024.05.16 02:40 firefighter_raven Last Charge of the Roanoke
The Terran Union Heavy Cruiser, Roanoke, had spent the last 6 months raiding Naalx supply lines in the Flores sector.
They were finally returning to Terran Space for some much-needed refit and some R&R. But first, they were stopping at the Bateri space station orbiting Emsar IV.
She would be meeting a Terran Union squadron to escort her prizes back to the Couster system. 4 freighters, a massive ore hauler, and a damaged Naalx corvette that answered a distress call sooner than expected.
The Roanoke was one of the new Grenville class heavy cruisers, faster and more heavily armed than the other heavy cruiser classes operating as part of a Terran Union fleet.
They were designed as solo raiders able to operate deep in enemy space, raiding enemy supply lines and facilities.
Their design included several newly developed systems, including a new style of radiator for dumping excess heat.
At 500 m long and painted black as night, she was very intimidating to see on visual screens and even more so at close range. Her CrCoNi (chromium, cobalt, and nickel) hull was covered in 12” of ablative armor covered in a black laser-resistant material able to reduce the effectiveness of enemy sensors and target locks.
The experimental Baxter radiators efficiently released excess heat into space but still left them exposed to radiation detection sensors.
Captain Josef Král had been hand-picked to command the Roanoke when she came into service 18 months ago. He was a popular officer with 20 years of combat experience on just about every ship in the Terran Union’s navy.
He’d also provided technical assistance during its design phase so his familiarity with the ship made him the best choice for putting the ship through her paces. This would be the very first voyage behind enemy lines as a raider.
And it’d been a rousing success, hitting targets deep in Naalx space as reprisal for Naalxian raids on Terran border colonies. The First Naalx-Terran war had devastated both species and left them vulnerable to outside forces. The war wasn’t won so much as winding down to a series of raids and counter-raiding. A gentleman’s agreement to prevent raids and border skirmishes from turning into another full-scale war and the earlier consequences.
And Captain Král was very good at approaching that line in the sand without going over it. Several centuries earlier he’d have been a Privateer sailing the oceans on Earth.
This even led to the revival of the old pirate movies of the 20th century but Captain Král preferred likening it to the submarine warfare of the first half of the 20th century. That didn’t stop his crew from giving him a robot parrot.
He claims to hate it but everyone knows he’s been teaching it his extensive vocabulary of curse words, in dozens of languages, that he loved it.
And if you call him out on him walking around with it on his shoulder, he’ll claim he was just humoring the crew.
Captain Král was relieved to see the Terran squadron had arrived before him and ordered his little fleet to dock. It would be good to be able to get off the ship and move around without weapons.
As Captain Král exited the ship, he was surprised to see Commodore Allen waiting for him. It’d been several years since he last saw his friend and previous XO. Taking his prerogative as a Captain, he skipped the formalities, shook hands, and gave Commodore Allen a friendly slap on the back.
“Mike? What the hell are you doing here? This is escort job is for a Lt. to do” He asked
“I was in the neighborhood and volunteered. I wanted to see this new ship of yours and it’s been too long since we got a drink together.” Mike replied
Captain Král took a glance back to his ship and wasn’t surprised to see his current XO, Lt. Commander Nana Ricci had the resupply well in hand.
With a big grin, Captain Král said, “Let me see to my guests and we can see if we can scandalize the ratings like we used to.”
Captain Král approached the waiting station manager. The Bateri bowed in the formal greeting of her people. Not having the tentacles needed to return the bow, he just saluted her.
“Greetings Captain Král of the Terrans, how may we be of service?” The Bateri asked.
“Greetings Ananu of the Bateri. We request the use of your services,” he replied, finishing the ritual greeting.
“I see you returned successful in your raiding,” Ananu said, “How many bunks will you need?”
Unsurprised that the Bateri knew his mission, he replied “ 72 bunks with 3 more for your med bay, if you have the room.”
One of the most important functions provided by the Bateri was allowing for the return of captives taken in raids. This helped to keep things calmer by freely releasing captives to limit the amount of bad blood created during the raids and conflicts.
Crates of supplies, ammo, missiles, and the various other things needed to keep the ship functioning were being transferred from the smaller Terran ships. With her weapon complement being only slightly smaller than a battleship, she could go through a lot of ammunition. Even without being in serious combat, he liked to run frequent gunnery drills. Some Captains would just let their tactical computers handle operating the weapon systems and just have the gunnery crews handle reloads. But some hard lessons taught him that having the gunnery crews able to take direct control, as needed, was essential. He preferred to use up as much ammunition as needed during training to save lives later in combat.
Seeing everything in hand, he walked back to join his friend for a drink. They caught up on the doings of old friends and Mike’s family, toasts to fallen comrades, and eventually to the Roanoke.
‘How did she operate on her first long-range mission?” Mike asked
Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Captain Král took a sip of his drink. “She handled better than expected. The new engine behaved itself, surprising for being just off the drawing board, the Baxters were damn efficient.”
Taking another sip before continuing, “ We didn’t use the torpedoes or the turreted railguns in combat but the rest performed as expected. That Corvette didn’t stand a chance so we didn’t get a full test of all the combat systems.”
“Going by the number of munitions I brought with me, you’d think I was resupplying a battleship” Mike joked
“Just about,” Captain Král chuckled. “During the design phase, I had to argue for such an increase of armament.” “It seemed to take forever for them to get it through their thick skulls that we’d be out there all alone and couldn’t call for reinforcements.” “So I convinced them to put the 2 particle beam systems in the bow of the ship and give me the 4 torpedo tubes. They had no problem with the pair at the bow but they couldn’t figure out why I wanted a pair aft. I swear I thought about launching them out of a tube.”
“At least they were starting to get it when I up-gunned the turrets to carry two large railguns. They did get upset at wanting to put on a turret in the middle of the ventral side but were relieved I left the other turret on the dorsal side ahead of the command structures”
Commodore Allen asked,” From the glimpse I got as you docked, it looked like you doubled the usual weapon systems?”
“She still has them 10 secondary batteries but I went with dual medium railguns for them” Captain Král replied, “ I put 4 of the quad-mounted autocannons on each side of the ship.”
“ It should let us save wear and tear on the railguns when we catch unarmed ships or against incoming fighters.”
“ I understand and it also saves on missiles, which with 4 heavy and 8 medium is a lot of missiles to carry.” Commodore Allen replied.
“I’ve also heard you were running tests on a more powerful deflector array to do more than just protect against radiation and small debris. Like maybe actual shields that would work on anything smaller than a battleship?”
“Yeah but not with any success,” Captain Král answered, “Anytime we tried to go past the standard low-power output, it played hell with our sensors.”
It was at that moment when Captain Král’s wrist communicator beeped for his attention.
“Just a second Mike,” he said as he keyed the communicator. “ Král, go ahead”
The sound of Lt. Commander Ricci’s voice came through the speaker, “ Priority message from the bridge Captain.”
“ What is the message?” Captain Král asked, not liking the way Ricci’s voice sounded worried
“ Sensor buoy reports large Naalx fleet dropping out of FTL, 2 million km out,” Ricci reported
Commodore Allen gave Captain Král the same concerned look that he was sure was on his face. “How many?” The captain asked
Ricci hesitated for a moment before answering “37 ships with more arriving every couple of minutes.”
Commodore Allen swore
Captain Král looked at his friend, “How long until you get your crews and get out of here?”
Commodore Allen thought for a moment, “ Maybe 20 minutes at the minimum.”
Captain Král muttered to himself, “They’ll be here before that.”
Both men got up, signaled to any of their personnel in the bar, and started out the door. “I’ll buy you the time but I’ll need to undock as soon as I get aboard my ship, maybe I can catch them off-guard. “ Captain Král
Commodore Allen replied, “That’s a suicide mission, there are too many for one ship to handle”
“Yeah, I know, old friend but if I don’t then we all die.” Captain Král explained, “ Do me a favor, I’m going to send you my non-essential personnel, take them and those still on the station with you. Get them home.”
Reaching the hatch to the docking bay, both men stopped to shake hands. “Of course, Josef.” Commodore Allen replied, “But if anyone can find a way out of it, it’s you, my friend.”
After a final salute, both men parted ways to reach their ship. As Captain Král jogged down the docking bay, he sent orders for Ricci to send all non-essential personnel to Commodore Allen and asked if they had sufficient hands to man all combat stations.
Ricci’s reply reassured him, “ Aye Sir, most of the crew on the station are from the 2nd watch, and the few people from the first watch are non-essential.”
“Be ready to launch as soon as I get aboard.” He ordered.
He passed several members of his crew, en route to join Commodore Allen. He stopped to return their salute. At the disappointed look in their eyes, he told them. “I know you don’t want to leave the ship but the Commodore needs some real sailors to get out on time. You know how those logistic guys are. They’ll get lost trying to find their own bridge”
That look reassured them and after a final salute, they headed down the dock to join Commodore Allen
Captain Král reached the cargo ramp and started up it, calling Ricci and telling her to shove off and he’d be on the bridge shortly.
He sprinted down the corridor, leaping over the lower lips of the vacuum-tight doors.
“Captain on the Bridge!” rang out from one of the bridge techs. Aside from the guards and his XO, the rest of the bridge crew kept working. Nodding his approval at their knowing when to discard ceremony for action. He walked over toward his console before speaking.
“What do we have, Lt. Commander?”
Turning to face him, Captain Král could see just how worried she was. “Current count is 48 ships.” Touching the console’s keys to bring up a list of ships before continuing, “ 18 capital ships and a mix of sub-caps, still trying to ID them.”
“They’re just maintaining position for now.” Ricci finished, her voice slightly puzzled.
“They’re waiting for something or someone,” Captain Král answered the unasked question.
“How many crew did we leave behind?”
“641, Sir” the XO replied
“ Helm, are we clear of the station's shielding?”
“Almost Sir,” The helmsman answered.
“Thank you.” Captain Král returned.
Turning to another tech, he said, “Sound Battlestations”
“Sir,” one of his sensor techs spoke up, “We have 2 more ships arriving.”
“ Thank you, Ensign.” Captain Král returned
“What class are they?” Lt Commander Ricci asked
After looking at her monitor again the tech replied, “1 heavy cruiser and something much bigger, waiting for the computer to ID it.”
Captain Král moved to look over the tech’s shoulder before standing up and facing his XO.
“Fleet Command Ship” he informed the tech and his XO.
Lt. Commander Ricci replied, “What the hell is one doing out here?”
“Good Question.” he answered, “And now that the players are on the field, the game can begin.”
Bringing up the sensor information to his console, Captain Král pointed at the enemy fleet. “They haven’t begun to deploy into battle formation yet.”
“That could be our chance.” Raising his head to look at his XO. “If we jump now we can land close and surprise them. After we land, we drive into the center of their formation and head for that big bastard.” He explained
“But Sir, We haven’t fully tested the jump drive!” the XO exclaimed
“No time like the present, “ Captain Král joked
“We’ll let the railguns and autocannon crews pick targets of opportunity, while we engage the command ship with our particle cannons, heavy railguns, and torpedoes,” he stated
“What about its point defense system, won’t it pick off the torps?” the XO asked
“We’re going to launch all the Hammerheads at it. It should overwhelm the system and let the torps through.” He answered before continuing, “I’m going to save the heavy missiles for now.”
“You’ll need to calculate the launch time of the Hammerheads to hit the point defense system as close to the time for the torpedoes to sneak through.” he ordered, “ But not so far they take out the Hammerheads too soon and let them hit the torps but not so close they set them off either.”
Looking at his XO, “You better get down to tactical Nana, this is going to get ugly, and it’s best we split up.” Captain Král commanded
Exchanging salutes, Ricci simply replied “Aye Sir.” and started for the hatch. Just before stepping through, she turned and said, “Good Luck, Sir.
“What’s the status of the Commodore’s squad?” Captain Král asked
One of his communication techs spoke up, “ They need 10 more minutes”
“Let me know the minute they are clear.” Captain Král ordered
Captain Král turned to comms tech and ordered, “Intraship comms if you please ensign”
“Aye sir” the tech replied before turning to his console and speaking into the mic,” Now hear this, Now hear this. Message from the Captain.”
“ Well folks, this isn’t the fight I wanted but this is the fight we got” Captain Král started
“ I’m sure you’ve heard scuttlebutt about the situation but here it is. We are facing a superior force numbering 49 ships. And we need to give the Commodore’s squadron time to go to FTL and get the hell out of here.” he paused before continuing, “ The plan is to mix it up with the enemy at close range. They aren’t in battle formation yet so we can hurt them.”
“Good luck and let’s make them regret fucking with the Roanoke.”
The sounds of cheers came back over the speakers.
“Helm, are we clear of the station shielding?” the Captain asked
At the affirmative given by the helmsmen, he just nodded
Touching a button on his console, he asked, “Are you in place XO?”
“Aye Sir.” the Lt. Commander replied
“ As soon as we land, be ready to open up with the dual and quad mounts.” He ordered
The XO replied with an affirmative.
“Helm, at my command, jump between 25-50 km to the starboard of the fleet.”
“As soon as we land, hard to port and get us in the middle of them. Be ready for rapid maneuvers, maybe we can throw off their laser battery tracking systems. Might let us survive a little longer” Captain Král ordered. “Aye Sir” the helmsman replied
Taking a quick look around to make sure his crew was ready, he turned back to wait for the signal the jump drive was ready.
At the signal, he ordered “Jump”
He felt the ship lurch forward and shudder. It took less than 5 seconds to jump from the station to within the targeted range, but it felt like forever.
And then they were less than 5 km from an enemy battleship.
“Oh shit!” exclaimed the helmsman and steered to avoid it. Captain Král hid a moment of panic with a joke, “ Someone make note that the jump drive targeting system needs work.”
His joke brought a chuckle from his crew and got them back to focus on the taste.
Stabbing a button on his console, he ordered “XO, fire secondary batteries,”
There was nothing to see or hear from the massive volleys of the secondary batteries coming to life. But he knew the gun crews were already raining devastation on enemy warships. “Helm, Hard to Port!” he ordered, not tearing his view away from the main viewscreen.
Captain Král looked at his console at the images sent to the bridge from the various gun cameras.
He could see the flashes of light from projectiles hitting their shields. He watched as other high-velocity projectiles punched through their hulls. He could just make out the impact of the explosive-tipped slugs fired by the autocannons.
Captain Král turned back to the main viewscreen. “Hard to starboard!”
“Head for that big son of a bitch!” he ordered
The Naalx were slow to respond but they began to return fire with some trying to gain some distance to clear the line of fire of other ships. The helmsman’s evasive maneuvers were also giving the enemy’s gunners fits from repeated misses.
But the damage sensors on the armor told of an increasing number of hits as the Naalx began to respond in an organized manner. The resistance coating reduced the damage from the Naalx laser batteries but didn’t completely nullify it. “Helm, get me a clear shot at the command ship.” the Captain ordered
A bright flash to starboard marked the death of an enemy cruiser. Status reports listed 2 sub-capitals holed and venting atmosphere. Dead or damaged, they were out of the fight.
One capital ship was dead in space with another missing its bow.
5 down too damn many to go The captain muttered
He watched and waited, ignoring damage alarms and the occasional shudder as shots began to get through the armor and explosively decompress a compartment when they penetrated the hull.
He finally saw what he wanted, an unobstructed line of fire to the command ship.
His finger smashed down on the console button. “ XO, Launch Torpedoes. Take the gloves off the main batteries. Drop the hammer!”
He watched the glitter of the particle beams as they bridged the gap between the Roanoke and the Naalx ship. In a moment, he caught sight of the torpedoes' thrusters as they left the tubes and picked up momentum. Holes and brief explosions marked the impact of his weapons. But the sheer volume of Naalxian fire was beginning to take its toll. The armor was failing or had failed in over a dozen spots. 3 autocannon and 1 railgun mount were out of commission.
2 minutes after they launched the torpedoes, the sight of more than 100 Hammerhead missiles was marked by the flare of their drives. Another volley of Hammerheads was launched the moment new missiles were lifted into the racks.
Captain Král called down to tactical, “XO, hold off on another volley for hammerheads.”
Checking his console, “Launch Shrikes at targets of opportunity with no shields, rear tubes target enemy capital ships and hope those torpedoes get through.” he ordered.
Multiple small explosions let him know the point defense systems were taking on the Hammerheads. And a moment later, a pair of massive explosions told him the nuclear-tipped torpedoes had hit their target.
“Captain, The Commodore’s squadron has escaped.” one of his techs announced.
“Thank you,” he answered
“Distance to command ship?” he asked
“ 250 km Sir” was the reply
“Helm, continue advancing on the command ship and pass her on our port side. We’ll give her a broadside and go to FTL after we clear.”
A tech from the damage control position spoke up, “Captain! FTL is down and jump drive is destroyed”
“Ahh hell’ cried the Captain.
“Damage report!” he ordered
“ Ventral turret destroyed, railgun mounts 2 and 5 destroyed, mount 9 damaged but functional. Autocannon mounts 11,13, 23 and 25 destroyed. Hammerhead launchers 3 and 8 destroyed.” The tech checked the screen before continuing, “ Explosive decompressions on decks 3 and 5. Explosive decompression in Med Bay. Ablative armor badly damaged and penetrated in around 20 spots. Engine #3 is down. Power unstable in many areas of the ship”
“FTL down, engineering needs an hour to fix. The jump drive is destroyed. Long-range comms are down” The tech finished.
“Casualty reports!” Captain Král ordered
A different tech replied, “249 dead, roughly 800 wounded with 327 too injured to fight.”
“Thank you.” he returned. Doing the math in his head he had just over 1300 combat effective and 482 of those were his Marines, the other 18 were left behind.
After thinking a moment, “Helm, same course as before but since we can’t go to FTL, circle to the aft of the command ship and lessen the incoming fire for the moment”
Looking over to the comms tech, “ Get me the chief engineer on the horn.”
Tapping the switch on the console, he called down to tactical. “ XO, I’m taking us around to the aft of the command ship and play peek-a-boo.”
“We’ll pass on her port side and I want a broadside from all batteries that can hit it and launch half the Shrikes we have left at it.”
“After we get to their rear, target enemy aft batteries, I want them all hunks of twisted metal.” Captain Král ordered
“Aye Sir.” Lt. Commander Ricci replied. “Ammo count update Sir.”
“Go ahead,” he replied
“Only the two forward tubes are loaded, aft tubes empty, railgun and autocannon are down to 30%. Dorsal turret is at 10% but they are working on transferring surviving ammo from the Ventral turret.
We can launch 4 more full racks of Shrikes and 5+ Hammerheads.” She finished
“Understood. Thank you” Captain Král replied
“Captain, Chief Engineer on the line” a tech relayed
“Route it to my console,” he ordered
“ I need you to place charges on the computer core, all the experimental equipment, engines, and fire suppression control. If we go down, I don’t want them getting a damn thing but blood and pain.”
“Aye Sir.” The Chief replied.
Captain Král turned back to watch as the Roanoke passed the command ship to port. He watched as massive explosions rippled across the enemy flank and dorsal surface. They were too close for the point defense to pick off the majority of the Shrikes.
As the Roanoke got behind and slightly below the enemy command ship, she slowed and allowed her surviving batteries to silence the command ship's aft batteries.
Captain Král called down to tactical, “XO, fire half our remaining hammerheads into her engines.”
“Affirmative,” replied the XO
Captain Král watched as the hammerheads impacted the command ship’s engines and saw the thrust nozzles dim as the engines went offline. The enemy batteries stopped firing and she began to drift.
“Helm, get us 500 km from the command ship and line up to fire our last 2 avalanche torpedoes.” Captain Král ordered
“Aye Sir, 500km bow towards the enemy” the helmsman repeated
The Captain called down to tactical ” Nana, We’re positioning the ship to line up the front tubes and we’re going to kill that bastard. Stay on the line and fire on my order.”
“Aye Sir, we’re ready.” The XO answered
“Helm?” Captain Král asked
“ 3 seconds Captain.” the helmsman replied
Captain Král watched and as soon as he got the angle he wanted, “Fire Torpedoes!” he commanded
The whole bridge crew watched and waited for the impact. Both torpedoes struck amidships and tore massive holes in the hull. As they watched, lines of explosions traveled across the hull and began to rip the ship in half. The bridge crew let out a yell and the rest of the ship after the Captain had the information broadcast over the intercom.
“ Helm, get us the hell out of here. Maybe we can outrun the bigger ships and buy time to fix the FTL.” Captain Král ordered
But before the helmsman could act, there was a massive jolt.
“What the hell?” he yelled
A tech answered, “ We were rammed by a Naalx cruiser and several smaller ships are closing in.“
But instead of ramming the Roanoke, they launched breeching pods.
His finger stabbed down to open the intercom. “ All hands, Prepare to Repel Boarders! Security teams, tactical will relay their access position. “ He ordered
He pulled out his sidearm and checked that it was ready. Several other techs did the same, while his security detachment moved to defensive positions to watch the hatch.
“Target those pods!” Captain Král ordered but he didn’t need to say it, his gunnery crews were on it. Here and there a brief flash of light marked the destruction of a pod.
“XO, fire all remaining missiles. Pick your targets,” he commanded “All batteries, open fire.”
He left the tac net open to track the status of the enemy boarding parties.
He listened to the cacophony of noises coming over the tac net.
“Security team alpha to section 7, level 3. Bravo team section 2 level 1, Charlie team section 12, level 5” Lt. Commander Ricci ordered.
“There’s too many, fall back to position 2…” an unidentified voice ordered
Another voice firmly stated, “Hold your ground, nothing gets past us.”
“Theta team down, a handful of Naalx heading for engineering!” a panicked voice exclaimed
And dozens of others just like it, always with the sound of combat in the background.
“Captain, more breaching pods en route!” a tech exclaimed
“Get me the Chief Engineer!” the Captain ordered
At the Chief Engineer’s response, he ordered “Detonate all sabotage charges except the main computer. Set that one on a manual trigger at my console with a 20-minute timer as a backup. And then set the reactors to overload, we’re not going to hold the ship much longer. And set a charge to breach the hull and decompress Engineering as soon as you are clear”
“Affirmative, Captain. She was a good ship” the Chief replied
Turning to his bridge crew, “Give the order to abandon ship. Have all the pods head for the station.”
The Captain called tactical, “Lt. Commander Ricci, all hands abandon ship. Get as many of them home as you can.”
“ I understand, Sir.” She answered, “I’ll see you at the station.” she said hopefully
“I'm afraid not, Nana. I’m the Captain and I’m going down with my ship.” he stated, “And someone needs to make sure they can’t shut down the overload.”
“Transfer all fire controls to my station and get the hell out of here.”
“Aye Sir, It’s been an honor” the XO replied
“The honor is all mine. You are going to make an excellent Captain. Goodbye my friend” Captain Král finished.
His bridge crew tried to convince him to go with them but he declined and ordered security to get them into the escape pods.
Then he sat and watched as his consoles began reporting each pod as it launched. He also kept an eye on his sensors and concentrated fire on any Naalx ship that was moving to intercept the pods. They knew better than to fire on them but nothing said they couldn’t capture them.
He also prepared a probe with all the ship logs and combat data and fired it toward human-held territory. It would run silently until it exited the system and then begin broadcasting a coded signal for pickup.
He was dismayed at how few pods had left the ship and regretted so many young lives had been cut short.
As he saw the last pod clear the battlefield, he sat back for a moment and then triggered the charge on the main computer.
A hard pounding came from the other side of the hatchway. But there wasn’t enough power to open it. He guessed the pinging on the door was them firing their lasers and trying to blast it open.
He wondered if it would work but a huge rumble, a bright flash, interrupted, and the long career of Captain Král was finally over.
News of the Roanoke’s final battle flashed across news channels on hundreds of worlds. Her courageous and foolhardy charge at a superior force. The damage she did to the Naalx fleet before her destruction. How, of the 1859 members of the crew that went into the battle, only 108 survived.
The videos taken from both sides during the battle played over and over again.
How the Naalx picked up all the escape pods and released them on the station immediately.
And even recovered the bodies of any human they found while gathering their dead.
Naalx losses were the command ship, 2 capital ships, 9 sub-capitals destroyed, and a dozen other vessels damaged in one form or another. Naalx casualties were over 50,000 dead
Only the Naalx’s immense respect for courage, audacity, and bravery in the face of danger kept the skirmish from blowing up into a war.
The Naalx rendered full military honors as they turned the Human dead over to Lt. Commander Ricci.
The Captain Král, A Grenville-class cruiser, was launched 2 years later. Captain Nana Ricci in command.
Authors note- I hope you enjoyed this story. It's based on a historical event. Which according to an idiot on youtube is plagiarism.
If you feel like leaving a tip https://ko-fi.com/tomcarey
submitted by firefighter_raven to HFY [link] [comments]
They were finally returning to Terran Space for some much-needed refit and some R&R. But first, they were stopping at the Bateri space station orbiting Emsar IV.
She would be meeting a Terran Union squadron to escort her prizes back to the Couster system. 4 freighters, a massive ore hauler, and a damaged Naalx corvette that answered a distress call sooner than expected.
The Roanoke was one of the new Grenville class heavy cruisers, faster and more heavily armed than the other heavy cruiser classes operating as part of a Terran Union fleet.
They were designed as solo raiders able to operate deep in enemy space, raiding enemy supply lines and facilities.
Their design included several newly developed systems, including a new style of radiator for dumping excess heat.
At 500 m long and painted black as night, she was very intimidating to see on visual screens and even more so at close range. Her CrCoNi (chromium, cobalt, and nickel) hull was covered in 12” of ablative armor covered in a black laser-resistant material able to reduce the effectiveness of enemy sensors and target locks.
The experimental Baxter radiators efficiently released excess heat into space but still left them exposed to radiation detection sensors.
Captain Josef Král had been hand-picked to command the Roanoke when she came into service 18 months ago. He was a popular officer with 20 years of combat experience on just about every ship in the Terran Union’s navy.
He’d also provided technical assistance during its design phase so his familiarity with the ship made him the best choice for putting the ship through her paces. This would be the very first voyage behind enemy lines as a raider.
And it’d been a rousing success, hitting targets deep in Naalx space as reprisal for Naalxian raids on Terran border colonies. The First Naalx-Terran war had devastated both species and left them vulnerable to outside forces. The war wasn’t won so much as winding down to a series of raids and counter-raiding. A gentleman’s agreement to prevent raids and border skirmishes from turning into another full-scale war and the earlier consequences.
And Captain Král was very good at approaching that line in the sand without going over it. Several centuries earlier he’d have been a Privateer sailing the oceans on Earth.
This even led to the revival of the old pirate movies of the 20th century but Captain Král preferred likening it to the submarine warfare of the first half of the 20th century. That didn’t stop his crew from giving him a robot parrot.
He claims to hate it but everyone knows he’s been teaching it his extensive vocabulary of curse words, in dozens of languages, that he loved it.
And if you call him out on him walking around with it on his shoulder, he’ll claim he was just humoring the crew.
Captain Král was relieved to see the Terran squadron had arrived before him and ordered his little fleet to dock. It would be good to be able to get off the ship and move around without weapons.
As Captain Král exited the ship, he was surprised to see Commodore Allen waiting for him. It’d been several years since he last saw his friend and previous XO. Taking his prerogative as a Captain, he skipped the formalities, shook hands, and gave Commodore Allen a friendly slap on the back.
“Mike? What the hell are you doing here? This is escort job is for a Lt. to do” He asked
“I was in the neighborhood and volunteered. I wanted to see this new ship of yours and it’s been too long since we got a drink together.” Mike replied
Captain Král took a glance back to his ship and wasn’t surprised to see his current XO, Lt. Commander Nana Ricci had the resupply well in hand.
With a big grin, Captain Král said, “Let me see to my guests and we can see if we can scandalize the ratings like we used to.”
Captain Král approached the waiting station manager. The Bateri bowed in the formal greeting of her people. Not having the tentacles needed to return the bow, he just saluted her.
“Greetings Captain Král of the Terrans, how may we be of service?” The Bateri asked.
“Greetings Ananu of the Bateri. We request the use of your services,” he replied, finishing the ritual greeting.
“I see you returned successful in your raiding,” Ananu said, “How many bunks will you need?”
Unsurprised that the Bateri knew his mission, he replied “ 72 bunks with 3 more for your med bay, if you have the room.”
One of the most important functions provided by the Bateri was allowing for the return of captives taken in raids. This helped to keep things calmer by freely releasing captives to limit the amount of bad blood created during the raids and conflicts.
Crates of supplies, ammo, missiles, and the various other things needed to keep the ship functioning were being transferred from the smaller Terran ships. With her weapon complement being only slightly smaller than a battleship, she could go through a lot of ammunition. Even without being in serious combat, he liked to run frequent gunnery drills. Some Captains would just let their tactical computers handle operating the weapon systems and just have the gunnery crews handle reloads. But some hard lessons taught him that having the gunnery crews able to take direct control, as needed, was essential. He preferred to use up as much ammunition as needed during training to save lives later in combat.
Seeing everything in hand, he walked back to join his friend for a drink. They caught up on the doings of old friends and Mike’s family, toasts to fallen comrades, and eventually to the Roanoke.
‘How did she operate on her first long-range mission?” Mike asked
Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Captain Král took a sip of his drink. “She handled better than expected. The new engine behaved itself, surprising for being just off the drawing board, the Baxters were damn efficient.”
Taking another sip before continuing, “ We didn’t use the torpedoes or the turreted railguns in combat but the rest performed as expected. That Corvette didn’t stand a chance so we didn’t get a full test of all the combat systems.”
“Going by the number of munitions I brought with me, you’d think I was resupplying a battleship” Mike joked
“Just about,” Captain Král chuckled. “During the design phase, I had to argue for such an increase of armament.” “It seemed to take forever for them to get it through their thick skulls that we’d be out there all alone and couldn’t call for reinforcements.” “So I convinced them to put the 2 particle beam systems in the bow of the ship and give me the 4 torpedo tubes. They had no problem with the pair at the bow but they couldn’t figure out why I wanted a pair aft. I swear I thought about launching them out of a tube.”
“At least they were starting to get it when I up-gunned the turrets to carry two large railguns. They did get upset at wanting to put on a turret in the middle of the ventral side but were relieved I left the other turret on the dorsal side ahead of the command structures”
Commodore Allen asked,” From the glimpse I got as you docked, it looked like you doubled the usual weapon systems?”
“She still has them 10 secondary batteries but I went with dual medium railguns for them” Captain Král replied, “ I put 4 of the quad-mounted autocannons on each side of the ship.”
“ It should let us save wear and tear on the railguns when we catch unarmed ships or against incoming fighters.”
“ I understand and it also saves on missiles, which with 4 heavy and 8 medium is a lot of missiles to carry.” Commodore Allen replied.
“I’ve also heard you were running tests on a more powerful deflector array to do more than just protect against radiation and small debris. Like maybe actual shields that would work on anything smaller than a battleship?”
“Yeah but not with any success,” Captain Král answered, “Anytime we tried to go past the standard low-power output, it played hell with our sensors.”
It was at that moment when Captain Král’s wrist communicator beeped for his attention.
“Just a second Mike,” he said as he keyed the communicator. “ Král, go ahead”
The sound of Lt. Commander Ricci’s voice came through the speaker, “ Priority message from the bridge Captain.”
“ What is the message?” Captain Král asked, not liking the way Ricci’s voice sounded worried
“ Sensor buoy reports large Naalx fleet dropping out of FTL, 2 million km out,” Ricci reported
Commodore Allen gave Captain Král the same concerned look that he was sure was on his face. “How many?” The captain asked
Ricci hesitated for a moment before answering “37 ships with more arriving every couple of minutes.”
Commodore Allen swore
Captain Král looked at his friend, “How long until you get your crews and get out of here?”
Commodore Allen thought for a moment, “ Maybe 20 minutes at the minimum.”
Captain Král muttered to himself, “They’ll be here before that.”
Both men got up, signaled to any of their personnel in the bar, and started out the door. “I’ll buy you the time but I’ll need to undock as soon as I get aboard my ship, maybe I can catch them off-guard. “ Captain Král
Commodore Allen replied, “That’s a suicide mission, there are too many for one ship to handle”
“Yeah, I know, old friend but if I don’t then we all die.” Captain Král explained, “ Do me a favor, I’m going to send you my non-essential personnel, take them and those still on the station with you. Get them home.”
Reaching the hatch to the docking bay, both men stopped to shake hands. “Of course, Josef.” Commodore Allen replied, “But if anyone can find a way out of it, it’s you, my friend.”
After a final salute, both men parted ways to reach their ship. As Captain Král jogged down the docking bay, he sent orders for Ricci to send all non-essential personnel to Commodore Allen and asked if they had sufficient hands to man all combat stations.
Ricci’s reply reassured him, “ Aye Sir, most of the crew on the station are from the 2nd watch, and the few people from the first watch are non-essential.”
“Be ready to launch as soon as I get aboard.” He ordered.
He passed several members of his crew, en route to join Commodore Allen. He stopped to return their salute. At the disappointed look in their eyes, he told them. “I know you don’t want to leave the ship but the Commodore needs some real sailors to get out on time. You know how those logistic guys are. They’ll get lost trying to find their own bridge”
That look reassured them and after a final salute, they headed down the dock to join Commodore Allen
Captain Král reached the cargo ramp and started up it, calling Ricci and telling her to shove off and he’d be on the bridge shortly.
He sprinted down the corridor, leaping over the lower lips of the vacuum-tight doors.
“Captain on the Bridge!” rang out from one of the bridge techs. Aside from the guards and his XO, the rest of the bridge crew kept working. Nodding his approval at their knowing when to discard ceremony for action. He walked over toward his console before speaking.
“What do we have, Lt. Commander?”
Turning to face him, Captain Král could see just how worried she was. “Current count is 48 ships.” Touching the console’s keys to bring up a list of ships before continuing, “ 18 capital ships and a mix of sub-caps, still trying to ID them.”
“They’re just maintaining position for now.” Ricci finished, her voice slightly puzzled.
“They’re waiting for something or someone,” Captain Král answered the unasked question.
“How many crew did we leave behind?”
“641, Sir” the XO replied
“ Helm, are we clear of the station's shielding?”
“Almost Sir,” The helmsman answered.
“Thank you.” Captain Král returned.
Turning to another tech, he said, “Sound Battlestations”
“Sir,” one of his sensor techs spoke up, “We have 2 more ships arriving.”
“ Thank you, Ensign.” Captain Král returned
“What class are they?” Lt Commander Ricci asked
After looking at her monitor again the tech replied, “1 heavy cruiser and something much bigger, waiting for the computer to ID it.”
Captain Král moved to look over the tech’s shoulder before standing up and facing his XO.
“Fleet Command Ship” he informed the tech and his XO.
Lt. Commander Ricci replied, “What the hell is one doing out here?”
“Good Question.” he answered, “And now that the players are on the field, the game can begin.”
Bringing up the sensor information to his console, Captain Král pointed at the enemy fleet. “They haven’t begun to deploy into battle formation yet.”
“That could be our chance.” Raising his head to look at his XO. “If we jump now we can land close and surprise them. After we land, we drive into the center of their formation and head for that big bastard.” He explained
“But Sir, We haven’t fully tested the jump drive!” the XO exclaimed
“No time like the present, “ Captain Král joked
“We’ll let the railguns and autocannon crews pick targets of opportunity, while we engage the command ship with our particle cannons, heavy railguns, and torpedoes,” he stated
“What about its point defense system, won’t it pick off the torps?” the XO asked
“We’re going to launch all the Hammerheads at it. It should overwhelm the system and let the torps through.” He answered before continuing, “I’m going to save the heavy missiles for now.”
“You’ll need to calculate the launch time of the Hammerheads to hit the point defense system as close to the time for the torpedoes to sneak through.” he ordered, “ But not so far they take out the Hammerheads too soon and let them hit the torps but not so close they set them off either.”
Looking at his XO, “You better get down to tactical Nana, this is going to get ugly, and it’s best we split up.” Captain Král commanded
Exchanging salutes, Ricci simply replied “Aye Sir.” and started for the hatch. Just before stepping through, she turned and said, “Good Luck, Sir.
“What’s the status of the Commodore’s squad?” Captain Král asked
One of his communication techs spoke up, “ They need 10 more minutes”
“Let me know the minute they are clear.” Captain Král ordered
Captain Král turned to comms tech and ordered, “Intraship comms if you please ensign”
“Aye sir” the tech replied before turning to his console and speaking into the mic,” Now hear this, Now hear this. Message from the Captain.”
“ Well folks, this isn’t the fight I wanted but this is the fight we got” Captain Král started
“ I’m sure you’ve heard scuttlebutt about the situation but here it is. We are facing a superior force numbering 49 ships. And we need to give the Commodore’s squadron time to go to FTL and get the hell out of here.” he paused before continuing, “ The plan is to mix it up with the enemy at close range. They aren’t in battle formation yet so we can hurt them.”
“Good luck and let’s make them regret fucking with the Roanoke.”
The sounds of cheers came back over the speakers.
“Helm, are we clear of the station shielding?” the Captain asked
At the affirmative given by the helmsmen, he just nodded
Touching a button on his console, he asked, “Are you in place XO?”
“Aye Sir.” the Lt. Commander replied
“ As soon as we land, be ready to open up with the dual and quad mounts.” He ordered
The XO replied with an affirmative.
“Helm, at my command, jump between 25-50 km to the starboard of the fleet.”
“As soon as we land, hard to port and get us in the middle of them. Be ready for rapid maneuvers, maybe we can throw off their laser battery tracking systems. Might let us survive a little longer” Captain Král ordered. “Aye Sir” the helmsman replied
Taking a quick look around to make sure his crew was ready, he turned back to wait for the signal the jump drive was ready.
At the signal, he ordered “Jump”
He felt the ship lurch forward and shudder. It took less than 5 seconds to jump from the station to within the targeted range, but it felt like forever.
And then they were less than 5 km from an enemy battleship.
“Oh shit!” exclaimed the helmsman and steered to avoid it. Captain Král hid a moment of panic with a joke, “ Someone make note that the jump drive targeting system needs work.”
His joke brought a chuckle from his crew and got them back to focus on the taste.
Stabbing a button on his console, he ordered “XO, fire secondary batteries,”
There was nothing to see or hear from the massive volleys of the secondary batteries coming to life. But he knew the gun crews were already raining devastation on enemy warships. “Helm, Hard to Port!” he ordered, not tearing his view away from the main viewscreen.
Captain Král looked at his console at the images sent to the bridge from the various gun cameras.
He could see the flashes of light from projectiles hitting their shields. He watched as other high-velocity projectiles punched through their hulls. He could just make out the impact of the explosive-tipped slugs fired by the autocannons.
Captain Král turned back to the main viewscreen. “Hard to starboard!”
“Head for that big son of a bitch!” he ordered
The Naalx were slow to respond but they began to return fire with some trying to gain some distance to clear the line of fire of other ships. The helmsman’s evasive maneuvers were also giving the enemy’s gunners fits from repeated misses.
But the damage sensors on the armor told of an increasing number of hits as the Naalx began to respond in an organized manner. The resistance coating reduced the damage from the Naalx laser batteries but didn’t completely nullify it. “Helm, get me a clear shot at the command ship.” the Captain ordered
A bright flash to starboard marked the death of an enemy cruiser. Status reports listed 2 sub-capitals holed and venting atmosphere. Dead or damaged, they were out of the fight.
One capital ship was dead in space with another missing its bow.
5 down too damn many to go The captain muttered
He watched and waited, ignoring damage alarms and the occasional shudder as shots began to get through the armor and explosively decompress a compartment when they penetrated the hull.
He finally saw what he wanted, an unobstructed line of fire to the command ship.
His finger smashed down on the console button. “ XO, Launch Torpedoes. Take the gloves off the main batteries. Drop the hammer!”
He watched the glitter of the particle beams as they bridged the gap between the Roanoke and the Naalx ship. In a moment, he caught sight of the torpedoes' thrusters as they left the tubes and picked up momentum. Holes and brief explosions marked the impact of his weapons. But the sheer volume of Naalxian fire was beginning to take its toll. The armor was failing or had failed in over a dozen spots. 3 autocannon and 1 railgun mount were out of commission.
2 minutes after they launched the torpedoes, the sight of more than 100 Hammerhead missiles was marked by the flare of their drives. Another volley of Hammerheads was launched the moment new missiles were lifted into the racks.
Captain Král called down to tactical, “XO, hold off on another volley for hammerheads.”
Checking his console, “Launch Shrikes at targets of opportunity with no shields, rear tubes target enemy capital ships and hope those torpedoes get through.” he ordered.
Multiple small explosions let him know the point defense systems were taking on the Hammerheads. And a moment later, a pair of massive explosions told him the nuclear-tipped torpedoes had hit their target.
“Captain, The Commodore’s squadron has escaped.” one of his techs announced.
“Thank you,” he answered
“Distance to command ship?” he asked
“ 250 km Sir” was the reply
“Helm, continue advancing on the command ship and pass her on our port side. We’ll give her a broadside and go to FTL after we clear.”
A tech from the damage control position spoke up, “Captain! FTL is down and jump drive is destroyed”
“Ahh hell’ cried the Captain.
“Damage report!” he ordered
“ Ventral turret destroyed, railgun mounts 2 and 5 destroyed, mount 9 damaged but functional. Autocannon mounts 11,13, 23 and 25 destroyed. Hammerhead launchers 3 and 8 destroyed.” The tech checked the screen before continuing, “ Explosive decompressions on decks 3 and 5. Explosive decompression in Med Bay. Ablative armor badly damaged and penetrated in around 20 spots. Engine #3 is down. Power unstable in many areas of the ship”
“FTL down, engineering needs an hour to fix. The jump drive is destroyed. Long-range comms are down” The tech finished.
“Casualty reports!” Captain Král ordered
A different tech replied, “249 dead, roughly 800 wounded with 327 too injured to fight.”
“Thank you.” he returned. Doing the math in his head he had just over 1300 combat effective and 482 of those were his Marines, the other 18 were left behind.
After thinking a moment, “Helm, same course as before but since we can’t go to FTL, circle to the aft of the command ship and lessen the incoming fire for the moment”
Looking over to the comms tech, “ Get me the chief engineer on the horn.”
Tapping the switch on the console, he called down to tactical. “ XO, I’m taking us around to the aft of the command ship and play peek-a-boo.”
“We’ll pass on her port side and I want a broadside from all batteries that can hit it and launch half the Shrikes we have left at it.”
“After we get to their rear, target enemy aft batteries, I want them all hunks of twisted metal.” Captain Král ordered
“Aye Sir.” Lt. Commander Ricci replied. “Ammo count update Sir.”
“Go ahead,” he replied
“Only the two forward tubes are loaded, aft tubes empty, railgun and autocannon are down to 30%. Dorsal turret is at 10% but they are working on transferring surviving ammo from the Ventral turret.
We can launch 4 more full racks of Shrikes and 5+ Hammerheads.” She finished
“Understood. Thank you” Captain Král replied
“Captain, Chief Engineer on the line” a tech relayed
“Route it to my console,” he ordered
“ I need you to place charges on the computer core, all the experimental equipment, engines, and fire suppression control. If we go down, I don’t want them getting a damn thing but blood and pain.”
“Aye Sir.” The Chief replied.
Captain Král turned back to watch as the Roanoke passed the command ship to port. He watched as massive explosions rippled across the enemy flank and dorsal surface. They were too close for the point defense to pick off the majority of the Shrikes.
As the Roanoke got behind and slightly below the enemy command ship, she slowed and allowed her surviving batteries to silence the command ship's aft batteries.
Captain Král called down to tactical, “XO, fire half our remaining hammerheads into her engines.”
“Affirmative,” replied the XO
Captain Král watched as the hammerheads impacted the command ship’s engines and saw the thrust nozzles dim as the engines went offline. The enemy batteries stopped firing and she began to drift.
“Helm, get us 500 km from the command ship and line up to fire our last 2 avalanche torpedoes.” Captain Král ordered
“Aye Sir, 500km bow towards the enemy” the helmsman repeated
The Captain called down to tactical ” Nana, We’re positioning the ship to line up the front tubes and we’re going to kill that bastard. Stay on the line and fire on my order.”
“Aye Sir, we’re ready.” The XO answered
“Helm?” Captain Král asked
“ 3 seconds Captain.” the helmsman replied
Captain Král watched and as soon as he got the angle he wanted, “Fire Torpedoes!” he commanded
The whole bridge crew watched and waited for the impact. Both torpedoes struck amidships and tore massive holes in the hull. As they watched, lines of explosions traveled across the hull and began to rip the ship in half. The bridge crew let out a yell and the rest of the ship after the Captain had the information broadcast over the intercom.
“ Helm, get us the hell out of here. Maybe we can outrun the bigger ships and buy time to fix the FTL.” Captain Král ordered
But before the helmsman could act, there was a massive jolt.
“What the hell?” he yelled
A tech answered, “ We were rammed by a Naalx cruiser and several smaller ships are closing in.“
But instead of ramming the Roanoke, they launched breeching pods.
His finger stabbed down to open the intercom. “ All hands, Prepare to Repel Boarders! Security teams, tactical will relay their access position. “ He ordered
He pulled out his sidearm and checked that it was ready. Several other techs did the same, while his security detachment moved to defensive positions to watch the hatch.
“Target those pods!” Captain Král ordered but he didn’t need to say it, his gunnery crews were on it. Here and there a brief flash of light marked the destruction of a pod.
“XO, fire all remaining missiles. Pick your targets,” he commanded “All batteries, open fire.”
He left the tac net open to track the status of the enemy boarding parties.
He listened to the cacophony of noises coming over the tac net.
“Security team alpha to section 7, level 3. Bravo team section 2 level 1, Charlie team section 12, level 5” Lt. Commander Ricci ordered.
“There’s too many, fall back to position 2…” an unidentified voice ordered
Another voice firmly stated, “Hold your ground, nothing gets past us.”
“Theta team down, a handful of Naalx heading for engineering!” a panicked voice exclaimed
And dozens of others just like it, always with the sound of combat in the background.
“Captain, more breaching pods en route!” a tech exclaimed
“Get me the Chief Engineer!” the Captain ordered
At the Chief Engineer’s response, he ordered “Detonate all sabotage charges except the main computer. Set that one on a manual trigger at my console with a 20-minute timer as a backup. And then set the reactors to overload, we’re not going to hold the ship much longer. And set a charge to breach the hull and decompress Engineering as soon as you are clear”
“Affirmative, Captain. She was a good ship” the Chief replied
Turning to his bridge crew, “Give the order to abandon ship. Have all the pods head for the station.”
The Captain called tactical, “Lt. Commander Ricci, all hands abandon ship. Get as many of them home as you can.”
“ I understand, Sir.” She answered, “I’ll see you at the station.” she said hopefully
“I'm afraid not, Nana. I’m the Captain and I’m going down with my ship.” he stated, “And someone needs to make sure they can’t shut down the overload.”
“Transfer all fire controls to my station and get the hell out of here.”
“Aye Sir, It’s been an honor” the XO replied
“The honor is all mine. You are going to make an excellent Captain. Goodbye my friend” Captain Král finished.
His bridge crew tried to convince him to go with them but he declined and ordered security to get them into the escape pods.
Then he sat and watched as his consoles began reporting each pod as it launched. He also kept an eye on his sensors and concentrated fire on any Naalx ship that was moving to intercept the pods. They knew better than to fire on them but nothing said they couldn’t capture them.
He also prepared a probe with all the ship logs and combat data and fired it toward human-held territory. It would run silently until it exited the system and then begin broadcasting a coded signal for pickup.
He was dismayed at how few pods had left the ship and regretted so many young lives had been cut short.
As he saw the last pod clear the battlefield, he sat back for a moment and then triggered the charge on the main computer.
A hard pounding came from the other side of the hatchway. But there wasn’t enough power to open it. He guessed the pinging on the door was them firing their lasers and trying to blast it open.
He wondered if it would work but a huge rumble, a bright flash, interrupted, and the long career of Captain Král was finally over.
News of the Roanoke’s final battle flashed across news channels on hundreds of worlds. Her courageous and foolhardy charge at a superior force. The damage she did to the Naalx fleet before her destruction. How, of the 1859 members of the crew that went into the battle, only 108 survived.
The videos taken from both sides during the battle played over and over again.
How the Naalx picked up all the escape pods and released them on the station immediately.
And even recovered the bodies of any human they found while gathering their dead.
Naalx losses were the command ship, 2 capital ships, 9 sub-capitals destroyed, and a dozen other vessels damaged in one form or another. Naalx casualties were over 50,000 dead
Only the Naalx’s immense respect for courage, audacity, and bravery in the face of danger kept the skirmish from blowing up into a war.
The Naalx rendered full military honors as they turned the Human dead over to Lt. Commander Ricci.
The Captain Král, A Grenville-class cruiser, was launched 2 years later. Captain Nana Ricci in command.
If you feel like leaving a tip https://ko-fi.com/tomcarey
2024.05.16 02:02 Traditional-River699 Sharing My Story - 1 Week After DD
Hi Everyone. I have been encouraged to share my story here, as SA situations are different to those of general affairs. Both incredibly hurtful and traumatic.
I have been with my (30F) SA parter (30M) for 8 years. We have been living together for 7.5 years now. Own a home. Have a dog.
Throuhout our relationship we have one recurring issue: I'm not sexual enough for him. When we first started seeing one another we were incredibly active. I was aroused, in love, and keen for fun. We didn't do anything crazy overly crazy, but it was passionate and frequent.
Fast forward as we move through out relationship. Theres additional work, life and financial stressors. I'm not 23 living at home anymore, and my sex drive has decreased. On top of this, when we have sex I at times have felt degraded and demoralised. I never feel like what I do is enough for him, and he is bothered by my lack of ability to relax and orgasm. It doesn't help a low sex drive improve.
But again and again we've had this issue where he is grumpy, shitty, in a bad mood. And it comes out that it's because we're not having enough sex. But when we do, it's not experimental enough. I'm not fulfilling his fantasies, and he wants me to work up to doing more things (public sex, multiple partners etc). As we go along I become more and more repressed. I'm borderline on the asexual spectrum now, and no idea how I got here. Maybe I always was? But I dont think so.
One important note is that throughout all of these arguments I've defaulted to "maybe we're just not right for each other". I maintained that he deserves someone with the same sex drive, as do I. I get hit back with outrage that I want to "give up". Im encouraged we can work through this, and off we go staying together.
Mid last year we purchased our first home. I felt our sex life was in a much better place. I was happy in all aspects of my life. We're renovating the home, with all the excitement of what our future looks like there.
And here we are. 7 Days Ago I thought I'd tidy up one of our rooms and in a box of stuff I found a burner sim card. Immediately I knew something was up. I looked on his desk and his old phone (after receiving a new work one) was sitting there. I turned it on. A message pops up, asking for "send pics" etc. I couldn't actually see any suspicious messages. I could see he had an unread message, but it wasn't in the app. Nothing at all there except for old work messages. Until I realised there is an "Archive" section.
Well low and behold a series of evidence that my partner has been contacting people off the internet, off the apps, arranging meetings, having sex, asking women if they squirt, exchanging photos, including selfies. I've found one really long chain where he talked with this girl for ages. Checking in, discussing life, her dog, her relationship. He told her I was asexual and agreed he could have fun on the side. That never happened.
I was pretty broken. I've been pretty broken since then. Lost on what to do. Unable to eat. Unable to sleep. Completely destroyed. Yet he lies next to me, sleeping soundly. How is this fair?
In his previous relationship he did the same things. He had told me about meeting regularly with one prostitute while he was with his ex GF. He told me about his group sex adventures. Sex with pregnant women etc. Meeting with older men for blowjobs and anal sex. All of this was during his relationship in his early 20s - his girlfriend at the time was who he lost his virginity with.
What an idiot I was to feel that was all in the past, that it was a younger boy exploring his sexuality.
He has been open with me that he loves chatting online, pretending to be someone he is not for the thrill of it. No mention of any meetups, although he had expressed maybe it could be a solution when i was comfortable. I wasn't comfortable yet and made that clear, although a part of me wondered if it would just be easier to give it a try (one day). I always felt it would destroy me, and wanted to try sex therapy and work on ourselves first.
I could put all the messages down to silly little text exchanges for the thrill. But unfortunately, there have been addresses exchanged, dashcam footage and call logs that all point to the fact he has been meeting with people for years.
I have no idea if reconciliation is possible. Yesterday I thought it was. Today I don't think it will be.
After a reassuring phone call with him during a breakdown I was having on Tues night (he was away for work), he reassured me he loved me, had been scared of losing me while I was so distant, and we could work through anything. Last night (Wed) he was texting escorts for his one night in Sydney for work next week. Clearly it was all empty words.
From here: I meet with a therapist today. I think I'm pretty close to having a confrontation with him. I need to set my boundaries, and am hoping to discuss that today.
I don't know if I can do this. But this is my story.
TL;DR: My boyfriend of 8 years has a sex addiction and has been meeting with people off the internet and lying about it for at least 4 years, but probably for our entire relationship.
submitted by Traditional-River699 to lovewithaSexAddict [link] [comments]
I have been with my (30F) SA parter (30M) for 8 years. We have been living together for 7.5 years now. Own a home. Have a dog.
Throuhout our relationship we have one recurring issue: I'm not sexual enough for him. When we first started seeing one another we were incredibly active. I was aroused, in love, and keen for fun. We didn't do anything crazy overly crazy, but it was passionate and frequent.
Fast forward as we move through out relationship. Theres additional work, life and financial stressors. I'm not 23 living at home anymore, and my sex drive has decreased. On top of this, when we have sex I at times have felt degraded and demoralised. I never feel like what I do is enough for him, and he is bothered by my lack of ability to relax and orgasm. It doesn't help a low sex drive improve.
But again and again we've had this issue where he is grumpy, shitty, in a bad mood. And it comes out that it's because we're not having enough sex. But when we do, it's not experimental enough. I'm not fulfilling his fantasies, and he wants me to work up to doing more things (public sex, multiple partners etc). As we go along I become more and more repressed. I'm borderline on the asexual spectrum now, and no idea how I got here. Maybe I always was? But I dont think so.
One important note is that throughout all of these arguments I've defaulted to "maybe we're just not right for each other". I maintained that he deserves someone with the same sex drive, as do I. I get hit back with outrage that I want to "give up". Im encouraged we can work through this, and off we go staying together.
Mid last year we purchased our first home. I felt our sex life was in a much better place. I was happy in all aspects of my life. We're renovating the home, with all the excitement of what our future looks like there.
And here we are. 7 Days Ago I thought I'd tidy up one of our rooms and in a box of stuff I found a burner sim card. Immediately I knew something was up. I looked on his desk and his old phone (after receiving a new work one) was sitting there. I turned it on. A message pops up, asking for "send pics" etc. I couldn't actually see any suspicious messages. I could see he had an unread message, but it wasn't in the app. Nothing at all there except for old work messages. Until I realised there is an "Archive" section.
Well low and behold a series of evidence that my partner has been contacting people off the internet, off the apps, arranging meetings, having sex, asking women if they squirt, exchanging photos, including selfies. I've found one really long chain where he talked with this girl for ages. Checking in, discussing life, her dog, her relationship. He told her I was asexual and agreed he could have fun on the side. That never happened.
I was pretty broken. I've been pretty broken since then. Lost on what to do. Unable to eat. Unable to sleep. Completely destroyed. Yet he lies next to me, sleeping soundly. How is this fair?
In his previous relationship he did the same things. He had told me about meeting regularly with one prostitute while he was with his ex GF. He told me about his group sex adventures. Sex with pregnant women etc. Meeting with older men for blowjobs and anal sex. All of this was during his relationship in his early 20s - his girlfriend at the time was who he lost his virginity with.
What an idiot I was to feel that was all in the past, that it was a younger boy exploring his sexuality.
He has been open with me that he loves chatting online, pretending to be someone he is not for the thrill of it. No mention of any meetups, although he had expressed maybe it could be a solution when i was comfortable. I wasn't comfortable yet and made that clear, although a part of me wondered if it would just be easier to give it a try (one day). I always felt it would destroy me, and wanted to try sex therapy and work on ourselves first.
I could put all the messages down to silly little text exchanges for the thrill. But unfortunately, there have been addresses exchanged, dashcam footage and call logs that all point to the fact he has been meeting with people for years.
I have no idea if reconciliation is possible. Yesterday I thought it was. Today I don't think it will be.
After a reassuring phone call with him during a breakdown I was having on Tues night (he was away for work), he reassured me he loved me, had been scared of losing me while I was so distant, and we could work through anything. Last night (Wed) he was texting escorts for his one night in Sydney for work next week. Clearly it was all empty words.
From here: I meet with a therapist today. I think I'm pretty close to having a confrontation with him. I need to set my boundaries, and am hoping to discuss that today.
I don't know if I can do this. But this is my story.
TL;DR: My boyfriend of 8 years has a sex addiction and has been meeting with people off the internet and lying about it for at least 4 years, but probably for our entire relationship.
2024.05.16 00:36 5h0rgunn The Confused Envoy (1551 – 1552) The Xin-Mei Wars Ch. 3.3
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The Treasure Fleet of 1551 arrived in the last week of July that year. One ship was particularly large, well-armed, and well-decorated with Ming imperial insignia. Onboard was a man named Cui Hejing, an envoy on a mission given to him directly by the Jiajing Emperor (though not in person, given how reclusive the emperor was). Cui was politically unconnected to either Yan Song or Xu Jie, meaning that he was, theoretically, neutral in the rivalry between them, and this is why he was chosen for this mission. His orders were clear: these 'Meixigou People' would have to be brought into China's orbit. During its heyday, the Chinese overseas empire had included tributaries from all over the western Pacific and the Indian Ocean too. Things had deteriorated since then, but the Ming's self-confidence had not. Surely, after the thrashing they received at Acapulco, Meixigou would be all too happy to send a tributary embassy to Beijing to talk things out and make a deal that would allow for the unimpeded flow of silver into China (and other goods as well: Yan Song was fond of a good cup of hot cocoa in the morning).
Any deal made with the Meixigou People would need to have the support of both Wei Chengjia and Bai Guguan in order for it to hold. It didn't please the emperor to have North Province and South Province sponsoring pirates to raid each other's shipping. Actually, to be honest, the emperor didn't care as long as he got the full tribute from both provinces every year—but currently that wasn't happening.
The first order of business, then, was to meet with the two governors.
Dongguang was the eastern terminus for the Treasure Fleet in those days, so Cui met first with Bai in Dongguang, then with Wei in Ningbo. Finally, the three met in Dongguang and hashed out what they could agree to. Without the NSS under his control, Bai Guguan had turned to piracy once again to obtain the silver he needed, and was still falling well short of what he owed the emperor (This was called the Third Silver War, a conflict on the high seas that began in 1550 with Wei's reinstatement). That would have to stop, Cui told him. Bai was happy to cease sponsoring pirates if Cui could convince the Meixigou People to let DSS members purchase silver. Cui asked Wei why he hadn't done more to convince the Meixigou People to remain peaceable, to which Wei responded by pointing out that Bai had sent a military expedition to wreck a Meixigou port. Bai countered with the accusation that Wei started the Silver Wars by attacking the Cabrillo Expedition under false flags, which Wei denied.
Cui Hejing sighed.
Negotiations carried on for several days in the first week of August, with Wei and Bai frequently arguing while Cui played the peacemaker. Wei Chengjia agreed to support South Province's right to trade with Meixigou in exchange for a concession near and dear to Bai Guguan's economic policy.
In 1450, the Treasure Fleet had officially been established as an annual convoy sailing between Xinguo and China, sanctioned by the imperial government and given a naval escort. The Jingtai Emperor who ruled China at the time set the fleet's terminus at Dongguang in order to hurt Wei Shuifu, whom the emperor deemed to be too powerful already. As the discoverer of Xinguo and the biggest proponent of settling the New World, Wei Shuifu had immense influence in the early colonisation period. Having the Treasure Fleet stop in Dongguang was of profound importance for the city's economy. Establishments such as hotels and pubs thrived on the business brought by the Fleet, farmers and fishermen sold their products to restock the Fleet for the return trip, and even Ningbo had to come to Dongguang to deliver its annual tribute to the Fleet, while NSS merchants had to come to purchase Asian wares for resale in Xinguo. All this gave Dongguang a significant edge over its rival. Over the years, the fleet had occasionally stopped in Ningbo instead, when emperors felt they needed to send a message to Dongguang, but they always switched it back to Dongguang within a few years. In 1551, however, Wei Chengjia's requirement for his support of a deal with Meixigou was that Ningbo be set as the permanent terminus for the Treasure Fleet. Bai Guguan agreed to this, albeit begrudgingly. Both men shook hands and signed a paper agreeing to these terms. Two copies were made of the paper, one of which was kept by each governor while Cui Hejing kept the original. No chances were to be taken on either man reneging on his side of the deal.
The hard part was done. Now it was time to deliver a message to the foreigners requiring their presence in Beijing at the earliest possible time.
Cui Hejing sailed his ship down to Acapulco, arriving on August 18th, 1551. Fortunately for him, Chinese ships arriving at Acapulco were an everyday occurrence so soon after the Treasure Fleet's arrival. Pirates were on a campaign of plunder all around Acapulco and the Spaniards still couldn't tell the difference between a North Province freighter, a South Province freighter, and a Wokou pirate ship. Sometimes, pirates pretended to be merchants until they got close, then opened fire. This made the Spaniards rather trigger happy for most of the year, wary as they were of ambushes. With so many North Province merchantmen showing up in the preceding week, however, Cui made it into the harbour without difficulty. The harbour was now overlooked by Fuerte de Oñate, a newly-constructed star fort on the west side of the bay named for Cristobal de Oñate himself. Colloquially, it was called Fuerte del Vasco, or Fort of the Basque, in reference to Oñate's heritage. In 1551, the fort was rather bare-bones and parts of it were still under construction, but eventually it would be expanded into a sprawling defensive network, making Acapulco the most heavily fortified city on the Pacific coast of Spanish America. It was home to a permanent garrison of 1,000 men and 8 warships, who were constantly on the lookout for pirates. Bai Guguan's privateers often ambushed ships exiting the bay or even sneaked into the port at night for a little moonlit robbery. The Spaniards had already picked up the word 'Wokou' from their North Province trading parters as 'Oacao,' which they applied indiscriminately to all pirates or privateers originating from north of Mexico and operating in the Pacific Ocean. In later centuries, 'Oacao' would even be applied to British, Portuguese, and Russian privateers in the Pacific.
Upon Cui Hejing's arrival, he introduced himself and his mission to the mayor of Acapulco. This was conveyed to Mexico City, where it was received by Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza. Mendoza invited Cui to the capital. Upon arrival, Cui Hejing delivered a letter inviting Meixigou to send a tributary embassy to Beijing so that they could establish diplomatic ties with the Ming Dynasty. This was standard Ming practice. No one could have diplomatic ties with China without bringing tribute for the emperor. The emperor would respond to the tribute with a gift of his own, although this part doesn't seem to have been communicated clearly enough.
The viceroy, however, didn't have the power to authorise such a mission on his own, so he penned a letter to Madrid and sent it, along with Cui's invitation (together with a Spanish translation), to Spain. Two months was the minimum time in which to expect a reply, but three was more realistic.
Cui Hejing was incensed upon being told he'd have to wait for three months, give or take. He decried this as an outrage—how dare a mere king like the ruler of Meixigou make the emperor's envoy sit and wait? Mendoza reminded Cui that he, Mendoza, was just a viceroy, and that he needed authorisation from Madrid to get such a thing done. Then he told Cui again to settle in and wait. Cui was given comfortable lodgings, but simply couldn't contain his anger at being forced to wait. Every day, he sent complaints to the viceroy's office along with requests to see the king of Meixigou.
In truth, Mendoza had no patience for Cui Hejing's antics. He was preoccuppied with making a choice he'd been given by Emperor Karl V of the Holy Roman Empire, who was also King Carlos I of Spain. Since the viceroy of Peru had been killed by rebels in 1546, Peru needed a new one, a position which had been offered to Mendoza. In fact, a week after Cui's arrival on the Pacific coast, a man from Spain arrived on the Atlantic coast with orders to take up whichever viceregal position Mendoza turned down.
There were plenty of other, more pressing matters on Mendoza's plate as well. The Chichimec War was still blazing, cutting into New Spain's potential silver output. The war was so expensive New Spain kept having to beg Madrid for money to pay for it. In addition, conquistadors were still pushing the frontiers ever northward and southward, Maya city-states on the Yucatan peninsula were giving them trouble, and there was the matter of the New Laws. When a conquistador conquered a new area, he effectively installed himself as feudal lord of that area. Madrid gave a stamp of approval to this practice by creating the encomienda system, which converted the indigenous population of the area into the conquistador's serfs. Madrid dislike the practice, however. Unlike China, Spain took an active role in colonial administration and was loathe to allow conquistadors to establish hereditary control of large swathes of the New World. Therefore, they'd introduced a series of laws in the 1540s in the hopes of curbing the power of the encomenderos. Enforcement of these laws in Peru led to the viceroy being killed. In New Spain, Antonio de Mendoza adopted a policy which he described thusly: “I obey, but I do not comply.” In other words, he applied the New Laws very carefully and very selectively, so as to avoid the fate of Peru's viceroy.
All in all, Cui Hejing had come at a bad time. Furthermore, he seems to have been profoundly confused by the situation. As discussed previously, 'Spain' was referred to by the Xinguans as 'Meixigou', or some variation thereof. This was taken from 'Mexica,' which was the Aztecs' name for themselves. Xinguans saw the Spaniards as being akin to a new dynasty ruling the same land that'd long been one of their prime sources of silver. The land was still Meixigou, and its people were still Meixigou People, regardless of who was ruling there. Thus, officials back in China were given the impression that 'Meixigou' was a kingdom existing in the New World presided over by a viceroy, whom they interpreted as the equivalent of a prime minister. Meixigou's king was, presumably, residing in Mexico City, or in a country house somewhere nearby. They had no concept of Meixigou's connection to Spain—not that they would've known what Spain was anyway. Despite an overwhelming air of superiority over all others, China has traditionally been a rather insular place that prefers to deal with its own matters and doesn't pay a lot of attention to things far from its own borders. Europe was very far away indeed, so China had little idea of the political geography of the continent. Europeans were likewise rather ignorant about Asia in the mid-16th century.
Hence Cui Hejing's angst. He seems to have been under the impression that Mendoza was making up a story about a capital city (Madrid) on the other side of another ocean purely to snub to Cui. There was no reason in Cui's eyes why he shouldn't be allowed to see the king of Meixigou, and it was making him madder by the day. Mendoza wasn't helping things either. He was busy with other matters and anyway, he was pretty confident Karl V wasn't about to send tribute on demand to another emperor on the other side of the globe (Mendoza also doesn't seem to have caught the part where the Jiajing Emperor would reciprocate the tribute with a gift of his own—or perhaps he simply didn't care).
On August 29th, Cui Hejing announced he wasn't going to wait any longer. He told his hosts that they'd be sorry they snubbed an envoy of the emperor, then he packed his bags, headed back to Acapulco, and set sail for Xinguo. Mendoza made no attempt to hinder his departure.
Upon his return to Xinguo, Cui Hejing considered what he'd done. Going back to China without accomplishing anything was out of the question. He didn't want to end up being banished to the western frontier like Lin Weishi and Peng Chao'an. That would end his career, or at best would be a long hiatus before he might be allowed to return. Therefore, Cui resolved to get at least half of his mission completed.
To that end, he met with Wei and Bai again and informed them about what'd happened in Acapulco. However, the fact of Meixigou's non-compliance didn't have to be a problem. Circumvention of Meixigou's ban on DSS merchants coming to Acapulco wouldn't be hard. All they needed was for NSS merchants to purchase twice as much silver as they needed and sell the excess to the DSS. That way, South Province could still get the silver it needed. Wei agreed readily, but he still wanted the Treasure Fleet to switch its destination to Ningbo. Bai took a day to mull it over before finally agreeing. There was one condition, however. Wei would purchase silver from the NSS merchants out of his own pocket and then sell it to Bai at cost. This would mean Bai wouldn't have to pay an exorbitant mark-up for the silver he needed to pay the tribute. Wei agreed. Once again, three sets of the agreement were written out and signed by both governors. It might as well have been a treaty between foreign nations.
Cui Hejing returned to China with the Treasure Fleet in July 1552, with the agreement between the two governors in hand. Although it wasn't strictly necessary for him to wait to return with the Fleet, he thought it best to present the emperor with news of his trip at the same time as he received full tribute from both provinces, including the back-tribute South Province owed from 1551 and '50. Yan Song was incensed at Cui Hejing's account of how he was treated in Mexico, as was the Jiajing Emperor when Yan relayed the story to him. They were also upset at Cui Hejing for his reckless initiative in coming up with a solution all on his own. That being said, the Jiajing Emperor was now getting what he wanted. Needless to say, tribute wasn't coming from Meixigou. However, Bai Guguan had agreed to stop sponsoring pirates, which put an end to the Third Silver War (1550 – 1552), and South Province was now able to meet its tribute obligations. This was... an acceptable outcome.
Far from the banishment he'd been fearing, Cui Hejing was rewarded with a position as permanent commissioner to Xinguo. A commissioner was a man who was given the power to represent the emperor in order to accomplish a specific mission. Typically, any such commission was temporary, but in Cui's case it was a permanent posting. He would travel to Xinguo every year to relay the emperor's will to the governors and collect their reports on happenings in the colonies before returning to China to hand these in to the emperor (or at least, to the senior grand secretary). True to his agreement with Wei Chengjia, Cui Hejing managed to convince Yan Song to divert the Treasure Fleet to Ningbo. It took some persuasion, but it wasn't too hard since Yan Song viewed Bai Guguan as an ally of his arch-rival Xu Jie ever since Lin Weishi's expedition.
[Next]
submitted by 5h0rgunn to HighEffortAltHistory [link] [comments]
The Treasure Fleet of 1551 arrived in the last week of July that year. One ship was particularly large, well-armed, and well-decorated with Ming imperial insignia. Onboard was a man named Cui Hejing, an envoy on a mission given to him directly by the Jiajing Emperor (though not in person, given how reclusive the emperor was). Cui was politically unconnected to either Yan Song or Xu Jie, meaning that he was, theoretically, neutral in the rivalry between them, and this is why he was chosen for this mission. His orders were clear: these 'Meixigou People' would have to be brought into China's orbit. During its heyday, the Chinese overseas empire had included tributaries from all over the western Pacific and the Indian Ocean too. Things had deteriorated since then, but the Ming's self-confidence had not. Surely, after the thrashing they received at Acapulco, Meixigou would be all too happy to send a tributary embassy to Beijing to talk things out and make a deal that would allow for the unimpeded flow of silver into China (and other goods as well: Yan Song was fond of a good cup of hot cocoa in the morning).
Any deal made with the Meixigou People would need to have the support of both Wei Chengjia and Bai Guguan in order for it to hold. It didn't please the emperor to have North Province and South Province sponsoring pirates to raid each other's shipping. Actually, to be honest, the emperor didn't care as long as he got the full tribute from both provinces every year—but currently that wasn't happening.
The first order of business, then, was to meet with the two governors.
Dongguang was the eastern terminus for the Treasure Fleet in those days, so Cui met first with Bai in Dongguang, then with Wei in Ningbo. Finally, the three met in Dongguang and hashed out what they could agree to. Without the NSS under his control, Bai Guguan had turned to piracy once again to obtain the silver he needed, and was still falling well short of what he owed the emperor (This was called the Third Silver War, a conflict on the high seas that began in 1550 with Wei's reinstatement). That would have to stop, Cui told him. Bai was happy to cease sponsoring pirates if Cui could convince the Meixigou People to let DSS members purchase silver. Cui asked Wei why he hadn't done more to convince the Meixigou People to remain peaceable, to which Wei responded by pointing out that Bai had sent a military expedition to wreck a Meixigou port. Bai countered with the accusation that Wei started the Silver Wars by attacking the Cabrillo Expedition under false flags, which Wei denied.
Cui Hejing sighed.
Negotiations carried on for several days in the first week of August, with Wei and Bai frequently arguing while Cui played the peacemaker. Wei Chengjia agreed to support South Province's right to trade with Meixigou in exchange for a concession near and dear to Bai Guguan's economic policy.
In 1450, the Treasure Fleet had officially been established as an annual convoy sailing between Xinguo and China, sanctioned by the imperial government and given a naval escort. The Jingtai Emperor who ruled China at the time set the fleet's terminus at Dongguang in order to hurt Wei Shuifu, whom the emperor deemed to be too powerful already. As the discoverer of Xinguo and the biggest proponent of settling the New World, Wei Shuifu had immense influence in the early colonisation period. Having the Treasure Fleet stop in Dongguang was of profound importance for the city's economy. Establishments such as hotels and pubs thrived on the business brought by the Fleet, farmers and fishermen sold their products to restock the Fleet for the return trip, and even Ningbo had to come to Dongguang to deliver its annual tribute to the Fleet, while NSS merchants had to come to purchase Asian wares for resale in Xinguo. All this gave Dongguang a significant edge over its rival. Over the years, the fleet had occasionally stopped in Ningbo instead, when emperors felt they needed to send a message to Dongguang, but they always switched it back to Dongguang within a few years. In 1551, however, Wei Chengjia's requirement for his support of a deal with Meixigou was that Ningbo be set as the permanent terminus for the Treasure Fleet. Bai Guguan agreed to this, albeit begrudgingly. Both men shook hands and signed a paper agreeing to these terms. Two copies were made of the paper, one of which was kept by each governor while Cui Hejing kept the original. No chances were to be taken on either man reneging on his side of the deal.
The hard part was done. Now it was time to deliver a message to the foreigners requiring their presence in Beijing at the earliest possible time.
Cui Hejing sailed his ship down to Acapulco, arriving on August 18th, 1551. Fortunately for him, Chinese ships arriving at Acapulco were an everyday occurrence so soon after the Treasure Fleet's arrival. Pirates were on a campaign of plunder all around Acapulco and the Spaniards still couldn't tell the difference between a North Province freighter, a South Province freighter, and a Wokou pirate ship. Sometimes, pirates pretended to be merchants until they got close, then opened fire. This made the Spaniards rather trigger happy for most of the year, wary as they were of ambushes. With so many North Province merchantmen showing up in the preceding week, however, Cui made it into the harbour without difficulty. The harbour was now overlooked by Fuerte de Oñate, a newly-constructed star fort on the west side of the bay named for Cristobal de Oñate himself. Colloquially, it was called Fuerte del Vasco, or Fort of the Basque, in reference to Oñate's heritage. In 1551, the fort was rather bare-bones and parts of it were still under construction, but eventually it would be expanded into a sprawling defensive network, making Acapulco the most heavily fortified city on the Pacific coast of Spanish America. It was home to a permanent garrison of 1,000 men and 8 warships, who were constantly on the lookout for pirates. Bai Guguan's privateers often ambushed ships exiting the bay or even sneaked into the port at night for a little moonlit robbery. The Spaniards had already picked up the word 'Wokou' from their North Province trading parters as 'Oacao,' which they applied indiscriminately to all pirates or privateers originating from north of Mexico and operating in the Pacific Ocean. In later centuries, 'Oacao' would even be applied to British, Portuguese, and Russian privateers in the Pacific.
Upon Cui Hejing's arrival, he introduced himself and his mission to the mayor of Acapulco. This was conveyed to Mexico City, where it was received by Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza. Mendoza invited Cui to the capital. Upon arrival, Cui Hejing delivered a letter inviting Meixigou to send a tributary embassy to Beijing so that they could establish diplomatic ties with the Ming Dynasty. This was standard Ming practice. No one could have diplomatic ties with China without bringing tribute for the emperor. The emperor would respond to the tribute with a gift of his own, although this part doesn't seem to have been communicated clearly enough.
The viceroy, however, didn't have the power to authorise such a mission on his own, so he penned a letter to Madrid and sent it, along with Cui's invitation (together with a Spanish translation), to Spain. Two months was the minimum time in which to expect a reply, but three was more realistic.
Cui Hejing was incensed upon being told he'd have to wait for three months, give or take. He decried this as an outrage—how dare a mere king like the ruler of Meixigou make the emperor's envoy sit and wait? Mendoza reminded Cui that he, Mendoza, was just a viceroy, and that he needed authorisation from Madrid to get such a thing done. Then he told Cui again to settle in and wait. Cui was given comfortable lodgings, but simply couldn't contain his anger at being forced to wait. Every day, he sent complaints to the viceroy's office along with requests to see the king of Meixigou.
In truth, Mendoza had no patience for Cui Hejing's antics. He was preoccuppied with making a choice he'd been given by Emperor Karl V of the Holy Roman Empire, who was also King Carlos I of Spain. Since the viceroy of Peru had been killed by rebels in 1546, Peru needed a new one, a position which had been offered to Mendoza. In fact, a week after Cui's arrival on the Pacific coast, a man from Spain arrived on the Atlantic coast with orders to take up whichever viceregal position Mendoza turned down.
There were plenty of other, more pressing matters on Mendoza's plate as well. The Chichimec War was still blazing, cutting into New Spain's potential silver output. The war was so expensive New Spain kept having to beg Madrid for money to pay for it. In addition, conquistadors were still pushing the frontiers ever northward and southward, Maya city-states on the Yucatan peninsula were giving them trouble, and there was the matter of the New Laws. When a conquistador conquered a new area, he effectively installed himself as feudal lord of that area. Madrid gave a stamp of approval to this practice by creating the encomienda system, which converted the indigenous population of the area into the conquistador's serfs. Madrid dislike the practice, however. Unlike China, Spain took an active role in colonial administration and was loathe to allow conquistadors to establish hereditary control of large swathes of the New World. Therefore, they'd introduced a series of laws in the 1540s in the hopes of curbing the power of the encomenderos. Enforcement of these laws in Peru led to the viceroy being killed. In New Spain, Antonio de Mendoza adopted a policy which he described thusly: “I obey, but I do not comply.” In other words, he applied the New Laws very carefully and very selectively, so as to avoid the fate of Peru's viceroy.
All in all, Cui Hejing had come at a bad time. Furthermore, he seems to have been profoundly confused by the situation. As discussed previously, 'Spain' was referred to by the Xinguans as 'Meixigou', or some variation thereof. This was taken from 'Mexica,' which was the Aztecs' name for themselves. Xinguans saw the Spaniards as being akin to a new dynasty ruling the same land that'd long been one of their prime sources of silver. The land was still Meixigou, and its people were still Meixigou People, regardless of who was ruling there. Thus, officials back in China were given the impression that 'Meixigou' was a kingdom existing in the New World presided over by a viceroy, whom they interpreted as the equivalent of a prime minister. Meixigou's king was, presumably, residing in Mexico City, or in a country house somewhere nearby. They had no concept of Meixigou's connection to Spain—not that they would've known what Spain was anyway. Despite an overwhelming air of superiority over all others, China has traditionally been a rather insular place that prefers to deal with its own matters and doesn't pay a lot of attention to things far from its own borders. Europe was very far away indeed, so China had little idea of the political geography of the continent. Europeans were likewise rather ignorant about Asia in the mid-16th century.
Hence Cui Hejing's angst. He seems to have been under the impression that Mendoza was making up a story about a capital city (Madrid) on the other side of another ocean purely to snub to Cui. There was no reason in Cui's eyes why he shouldn't be allowed to see the king of Meixigou, and it was making him madder by the day. Mendoza wasn't helping things either. He was busy with other matters and anyway, he was pretty confident Karl V wasn't about to send tribute on demand to another emperor on the other side of the globe (Mendoza also doesn't seem to have caught the part where the Jiajing Emperor would reciprocate the tribute with a gift of his own—or perhaps he simply didn't care).
On August 29th, Cui Hejing announced he wasn't going to wait any longer. He told his hosts that they'd be sorry they snubbed an envoy of the emperor, then he packed his bags, headed back to Acapulco, and set sail for Xinguo. Mendoza made no attempt to hinder his departure.
Upon his return to Xinguo, Cui Hejing considered what he'd done. Going back to China without accomplishing anything was out of the question. He didn't want to end up being banished to the western frontier like Lin Weishi and Peng Chao'an. That would end his career, or at best would be a long hiatus before he might be allowed to return. Therefore, Cui resolved to get at least half of his mission completed.
To that end, he met with Wei and Bai again and informed them about what'd happened in Acapulco. However, the fact of Meixigou's non-compliance didn't have to be a problem. Circumvention of Meixigou's ban on DSS merchants coming to Acapulco wouldn't be hard. All they needed was for NSS merchants to purchase twice as much silver as they needed and sell the excess to the DSS. That way, South Province could still get the silver it needed. Wei agreed readily, but he still wanted the Treasure Fleet to switch its destination to Ningbo. Bai took a day to mull it over before finally agreeing. There was one condition, however. Wei would purchase silver from the NSS merchants out of his own pocket and then sell it to Bai at cost. This would mean Bai wouldn't have to pay an exorbitant mark-up for the silver he needed to pay the tribute. Wei agreed. Once again, three sets of the agreement were written out and signed by both governors. It might as well have been a treaty between foreign nations.
Cui Hejing returned to China with the Treasure Fleet in July 1552, with the agreement between the two governors in hand. Although it wasn't strictly necessary for him to wait to return with the Fleet, he thought it best to present the emperor with news of his trip at the same time as he received full tribute from both provinces, including the back-tribute South Province owed from 1551 and '50. Yan Song was incensed at Cui Hejing's account of how he was treated in Mexico, as was the Jiajing Emperor when Yan relayed the story to him. They were also upset at Cui Hejing for his reckless initiative in coming up with a solution all on his own. That being said, the Jiajing Emperor was now getting what he wanted. Needless to say, tribute wasn't coming from Meixigou. However, Bai Guguan had agreed to stop sponsoring pirates, which put an end to the Third Silver War (1550 – 1552), and South Province was now able to meet its tribute obligations. This was... an acceptable outcome.
Far from the banishment he'd been fearing, Cui Hejing was rewarded with a position as permanent commissioner to Xinguo. A commissioner was a man who was given the power to represent the emperor in order to accomplish a specific mission. Typically, any such commission was temporary, but in Cui's case it was a permanent posting. He would travel to Xinguo every year to relay the emperor's will to the governors and collect their reports on happenings in the colonies before returning to China to hand these in to the emperor (or at least, to the senior grand secretary). True to his agreement with Wei Chengjia, Cui Hejing managed to convince Yan Song to divert the Treasure Fleet to Ningbo. It took some persuasion, but it wasn't too hard since Yan Song viewed Bai Guguan as an ally of his arch-rival Xu Jie ever since Lin Weishi's expedition.
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2024.05.15 23:34 clinical_Cynicism You did WHAT to my Sister?!
After the great scattering and the unification of Terra and the Sol system. The Emperor ventured out to conquer the galaxy and search for his Primarchs. During this great crusade many Primarchs were found, and despite some setbacks, reunited with their legions. His Primarchs were tasked with the further unification and subjugation of the fragmented remnants of humanity throughout the stars. In this they were told to keep a lookout for their fellow creations. Some Primarchs like Vulkania, Hathor and Sanguinia were devoting great efforts to find and rescue their lost Sisters while the more coldly pragmatic ones like Ferra, Perturaba and Ellanor treated this task as more of a chore with the expectation of unearthing a new weapon for the war effort. So in Year 888 of M 30 of the imperial standard calendar the blood angels legion and their primarch Sanguinia were carrying out the expansion efforts in the borderzone of the growing ultramar exclave. As it happened they came across a civilized human world, that its residence called Nuceria. Sanguinia, ever the charming diplomat, had first contact messages sent out on all possible vox channels and frequencies and even utilizing communication methods from the dark age of technologie in hopes of reaching the planetary authorities. After managing to establish a reliable method of communication she scheduled plans to send an envoy for a planetary landing and subsequent negotiations about the integration into the imperium. As they were loading up the landing crafts with gifts and weapons and diplomats and space marines, Sanguinia was walking across the main hangar bay of the Red Tear. Looking left and right over all the busy people, her wings swaying in the breeze of the air conditioning. At the end of the hangar hall she saw admiral Ares DuCade hurrying towards her with his entourage. She took a moment to stand still and look at him coming, her moment of peace would soon be over.
“There you are my lord, I have been looking for you all morning! You weren’t on the flight deck, you weren’t on the command deck nor on the Bridge nor in your personal quarters and not even on the observation deck could I find you. Landing group alpha primus were worried to terra and back, that their main asset wouldn’t show up in time for take off. First officer Morel almost cried at the thought of having lost a Primarch! Just what in the Imperiums name has possessed you to roam the lower bowes of the ship!” Sanguinia smiled and laughed: “Oh I just wanted to ensure that the ensins and marines of objective group two and three were well rested. I know they don’t mind doing the less glamorous security work but I don’t want them to feel left out just because they couldn’t take part in the parade today.” DuCarde sighed: “Please at least tell your personal security detail before going on such an unscheduled escapade”. He looked at his Primarch, then blushed and looked away. “But thank you for caring about the men”, he couldn’t stay mad at her, not with that smile. “Well then, let us proceed, before we cause a delay, If we go now we should just about make it in time”, Sanguinia winked at him and led the way.
As predicted the transport shuttles departed just in time and the descent to Nuceria was smooth and without issue. Group primus would head down towards the capitol and land just outside in a spectacular flight show before parading into the city where they would engage in the negotiations. Sanguinia knew the importance of making powerful and benevolent first impressions. Group secundus and tertius would make a less impressive descent and position themselves near the military, logistics and communications centers, just in case the talks went sour or the planetary authority would try to pull a fast one on the Legion. But so far everything went to plan, they were almost at the main square, their diplomats had engaged the planetary politicians and even though her personal honor guard was tense, looking for danger around every corner, Sanguinia made a calm and relaxed impression. She had to make a conscious effort for this impression but she knew as soon as this was done she could return to her beloved little dove and spend with them the time that was otherwise allocated for the conquest of this planet. The Desh’ean nobility welcomed Sanguinia and one man stepped forward and introduced himself as lord Thal’kr, leader of the ruling clan. His pompous attitude suggested he saw himself as an equal to Sanguinia, from one lord to another, this was a nuisance that she would just have to deal with. Usually putting pretentious mortals in their place wasn’t an issue for any primarch and she could do it tactfully too, but something about this seemed to give the red angel a headache. Regardless they followed the planetary customs to the necessary degree and were soon invited to a spectacle in the colosseum. Sanguinia, her honor guard, her remembrancer and various other guests were placed in the royal lounge with servants, wine and a grandiose view over the arena. While she was half heartedly listening to the japping of lord Thal’kr her gaze glanced over the rest of the stadium. It was packed. Bread and games seemed to keep the populous obedient. Her headache was still not going away. It was a weird feeling, not even her prescience would allow her to divine what it was. She tried to direct her focus back to what the noble was saying. “...So anyway we have this great gladiator, basically a giant, and the best part is, She’s basically indestructible. Any wound and any torment we inflict on her she recovers from. The populus loves her, especially when we have her fight great beasts like mammoths and nucerian mountain lions. But personally I think her best performance was when we had her fight alongside her adoptive father in an impossible fight, and then when they survived, we told them to kill each other! HAHAHAHA.” The laughter of the fat, opulent tyrant made Sanguinia want to cringe and turn away, but something told her to pay attention. Sanguinia became envious of her bodyguards, for they had helmets behind which they could hide their disgust. This man's ruling ethics could not have been further apart from her own. She tries to distract herself by looking at the faces of the other attendance. To her dismay the only other local that seemed to find anything wrong with this story was a young mortal standing by the balcony and holding a bouquet of flowers. Lord Thal’kr seemed to notice. "Oh? Do you fancy the little one? They are one of my Children. I’ll introduce you.” He turned and called out: “Hei Yarrow come here and give the nice lady the courtesy will you?” The young mortal hurried over, almost tripping over their light robes. They stood in front of the red angel and bowed deeply; clearly they had been raised to be polite and respectful in anticipation for a marriage alliance. “H-hello your highness my name is Yarrow, I’m blessed to meet you,” they blushed but stayed composed even in the presence of someone as intimidating as a primarch. “Come on little one be nice and subservient and maybe the lady will take you away and show you the stars beyond our world,” the tyrant laughed, “what were you doing over there by the balcony anyway? You weren’t thinking any bad thoughts about the gladiators again were you?” “Ah n-no father. Of course not.” “That’s still ‘my lord’ to you.” He shooed young Yarrow away. “Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, And then they thought they could be slick by refusing to fight each other, but we won’t be defied that easily, so we pumped her full of stimulants and had neural-anti cognitors placed in her head. Oh you should’ve seen her then, ripped her father apart like a squealing rabbit. And how she cried afterwards, like a little bitch. Oh what wouldn’t I give to hear that again.” Another noble chimed in:”But what about the time we made her fight her lover?” “Who do you mean?” The tyrant asked. “Gladiolus the beautiful but fearsome young Gladiator,” the noble replied. “Ah yeah HAHA. Well not so fearsome in the end were they?” Lord Thal’kr laughed again. “You have to know, when we learned about their relationship, they had apparently gotten close after the death of her father, we brought the two into the arena. They thought they would be fighting beasts but in reality they would have to fight each other. We gave her just enough time to realize her predicament before we pumped up the pressure on those anti-cognitors and turned her back into a wild savage animal. You should have seen them. Gladiolus pleaded with her to ‘snap out of it’ but she fell upon them and crushed their skull between her thighs like a watermelon. It was a delicious spectacle.” This man seemed to relish in the memory and just as Sanguinia contemplated if it was worth keeping him around he went: “Look! There She is. Child of the mountain, Mistress of the red sands along with our finest gladiators. Hail to those about to die!”
Sanguinia looked down into the arena and got hit with a wave of realization like an orbital bombardment. As she stared down she knew what the feeling was that had plagued her all day. It was this presence that she sensed and her prescience that had been screaming at her what her mind didn’t want to comprehend. But now it stood there below her, clear as day and no longer deniable. She thought no primarch could be more haggard than Morrigan and no such demigod could be more disheveled than Corvess. But she was wrong. Before her eyes stood, wrapped in chains, beaten and broken, her own flesh and blood. And as Angron looked up at the red angel standing at the parapet, all that Sanguinia could do was to close her mind to the visions of what was to come.
“You did WHAT to my Sister?!” The red angel spoke, dry and sharp, hair fell across her face and droplets of black blood fell on the parapet. “Well… we…”, before the tyrant could even speak she fell upon him. A massive hand clamped around his jaw and ripped it off. The guards reacted fast but the astarties reacted faster, thow they could not do much more than dispatch of the armed men before Azkellon ordered them to stand down. They looked over at their primarch who, in this brief moment, had already torn her way through seven other nobles with bare hands and was now about to reach her sword. Azkellon saw that the situation had turned most dire and knew he had to take charge. He turned on the vox:”all channels, situation’s fubar. Proceed with operational backup plan. Don’t go near mother, she is violent and unresponsive.” He then turned towards the brothers standing next to him and shouted: “Sanguinary guard evacuate the premises, ensure the retreat of all imperial non-combatants and most important of all: rescue that Primarch!” He pointed down into the arena, the lower levels of the stadium hadn’t yet realized what was happening, but sure enough there would be mass panic and a stampede. The Astarties split up and Azkellon along with his squad hopped down into the upper levels of the stadium. They did so just in time because the roof of the lodge began to buckle as the red angel cut through men and stone pillars as if they were straw. Azkellon cursed under his breath. He should have insisted on jump packs for this operation. It was no use now, they had to make their way down into the arena by foot, cut a way if necessary. When they were finally in the bottom rows the roof of the lodge above them collapsed and they heard an ear ringing scream: “HOW DARE YOU!” and “MY BABY SISTER!”. Clearly the primarch had finished massacring the major nobles in attendance and was now carving a bloody canyon through the minor ones. The stadium was now in full panik and mortals were scrambling over each other to get out of their own slaughterhouse. The Astarties hopped another fence down into the arena. A few bolter rounds dispatched of the remaining guards and Azkellon made his way over to the still restrained Angron. The next few words he spoke would be crucial to ensure the primarchs' cooperation; he had to choose them carefully and he had to choose them fast. “Mistress of the red sands, we are the angels of the Godemperor of mankind sent to aid you in your escape from this wretched place!” He prayed to Terra that she didn’t actually want to stay here. But to his relief Angron nodded and spoke:”My thanks. Get me out of these shackles, I can fight for myself.” Azkellon hurried to get out his multi-tool and got to work on the primarchs bindings. As he did so he looked her in the eyes and said: “it’s okay, you no longer need to fight for or by yourself.” Angron tried to stay stoic but he could see that the primarch was fighting to hold back tears. She looked as thow decades and decades of prayers prayed cold and lonely cells had finally been answered. When the shackles cracked and broke she turned away: ”They come with me”, she pointed to the other gladiators in the arena. “Very well”, Azkellon knew he couldn’t refuse her or the tenuous trust they had just built would be null and void. His squad freed the gladiators and they hurried out of the arena as Askellon ordered another thunderhawk for evacuation. As the last to leave the arena he looked back and saw the seating area had been filled with so much gore and viscera that blood began to spill over and run down the walls into the sand of the fighting pit. He made another vox call to the red tear and ordered them to get Dove on that thunderhawk along with as many tranquilizers as they could muster. They would need any help they could get if they wanted Sanguinia to calm down.
Angron led the astarties through the underbowels of the arena; clearly she knew her way around. However, that also meant that she chose a way that went past all the prison cells to free as many of the caged slaves, gladiators and animals as she could. Azkellon did not complain, he just wanted to get out of here. When they finally managed to leave the colosseum for good they stopped to take a brief respite. Angron turned to Azkellon and said: “I am grateful for your efforts but please, may I ask, you remove your helmet if you are able to, I’d like to see your face if you have one.” He did so and confirmed what he had felt for a while. Tears of black blood streamed down his cheeks and seeped out of his helmet. She looked shocked. “I’m sorry miss, this doesn’t usually happen, but our mother … your sister… it must be the deep connection we have with her that causes this.” Before he could apologize further for the undignified display, they saw a figure rise above the colosseum. The red angel had spread her bloodstained wings and was flying towards the ruling palace at the other end of the city. Over the vox the voice of the enraged primarch could be heard: “LET NONE LEAVE ALIVE! SHOOT ANY THAT ESCAPE THE CITY!” Azkellon had to quickly amend those orders to ensure that the slaves they rescued would survive. Then he voxed in with the other squad of sanguinary guard to get a status report on the evacuation of the imperial diplomats. Luckily they were almost out of the city and operational groups secundus and tertius hadn’t said anything so it was to be assumed that their part went to plan and there wouldn’t be any planetary reinforcements arriving in the city anytime soon. The squad tended to the malnourished slaves and wounded gladiators as best they could and then embarked on the safest possible route out of Desh’ea. The mortals would slow them down but leaving them behind wasn’t much of an option. Besides, mother had always reminded them that they were once mortal as well.
When they were about half way towards the extraction zone, they passed a squad of blood angel terminators carrying heavy equipment and escorting a young mortal. “Barbiel, is that you?” Azkellon shouted over to them. “Yes, great herald, we have the assets you requested.” “Good, the primarch went that way towards the palace. See if you can stop her madness. … Barbiel?" The crimson paladin seemed to stare off into the space behind him. But when Azkellon saw that it wasn’t just him but the other terminators and the young Dove as well he realized what it was. “This is primarch Angron Thal'kyr. we are escorting her to the thunderhawk for evacuation.” The terminators composed themselves, nodded and then hurried along.
And so passed another tense hour of walking through empty and abandoned streets while avoiding the panicking crowds. The hysteria had spread throughout the entire city and rightfully so. There wasn’t a gutter that didn’t have a trickle of blood running through it. Azkellon knew the power of the primarchs but he was still taken aback at how much carnage a single entity could cause. If there was a god of slaughter, he would surely smile this day.
When they reached the edges of the city Azkellon was relieved to hear the turbines of the thunderhawk. Angron stood still behind him, apparently needing a moment. Surely this was the first time she saw a spacecraft. “Where will this take us?” she asked. “Far away from this sight of misery,” he answered. It wasn’t untrue. “I’ll gladly go but first I need one more person to come with me,” she turned around and walked back towards the city, “I need my Yarrow, I need my desert flower, I cannot leave without them.” Azkellon was glad he had put his helmet back on, as he was certain all the color just drained from his face. He quickly voxed in with the terminator team asking if they had managed to calm down Sanguinia. Indeed they had somehow managed to stabilize her with a combination of Doves' kind words and enough tranquilizers to kill a horde of grox. Then He asked about the Tyrant's Child and after a moment of silence got the answer he did not want to expect. The red angel had slain the young mortal in her episode of unending rage. Azkellon thanked the emperor that he was the only one who could hear that answer. He told them to bring back the body of the slain Yarrow and tell Angron that they were killed by their father. He also stressed that they should ensure that no one ever finds out the truth, especially not Angron or any member of the war hounds legion.
When Angron heard news of the perishing of her second lover, she was inconsolable. She wept until they brought her the lifeless body and she wept over them the entire flight back, and she wept at the funeral when they let their corpse drift into the sun over Nuceria and she wept for several days after. These were a rough couple days despite the planetary conquest going off with very few issues. As Sanguinia read the report her legions apothecaries made about Angron and the butcher's nails in her head, she too fluctuated between rage and sorrow. She cradled and comforted her sister trying anything to lessen her pain. Finally she decided on the surgical removal of the butcher’s nails. When her apothecaries warned her of the dangers and the possibility of killing or stunting her sister, she almost tore one of their heads off shouting: “I’d rather have a brain dead sister than a suffering one.” Alas Sanguinia decided to perform the procedure herself. Her apothecaries suggested returning to nearby Ultramar to take advantage of their medical facilities, but Sanguinia denied them for she could not bear to see her Sister in agony for a single second longer.
Preparations were made and when the day of the surgery came all the medical staff of the red tear that could attend, did so. Even the ones who weren’t required sat in the amphitheater and watched the tense procedure. Sanguinia walked onto the operating floor covered in sterile white robes and a surgical mask over her face. Even her wings were covered in sterile white bindings. They would not remain white for long. Angron was rolled in and placed upon the operating table. Sanguinia looked at the sedated and still body of her sister; she was only covered in a ghostly thin sheet. “Father give me strength”, she muttered under her breath. A dozen astarties and two dozen mortal doctors huddled around the two. One of them handed Sanguinia a custom made pair of operating gloves. She dawned them, flicked them to ensure they sat tight and spoke: “let us begin”. A mortal brought her the scalpel. ‘This shall be the blade I wield today’, She thought to herself.
The surgery was long and arduous; it took three whole days before it was over. By the end Sanquinia was exhausted, she had to focus on making perfect nanometer cuts while simultaneously concentrating on using her prescience to ensure the best possible outcome. She slumped into a chair; her otherwise perfect hair was sweaty and messy. When a doctor came in to tell her that Angron's vital signs read normal, her exhausted face managed to curl into a mellow smile. Dove wanted to comfort her after all the work she did, but she only allowed it for a moment. For Sanguinia knew that her sister would soon awake and she needed to be there. When Angron awoke and looked into her sister's eyes she smiled, feeling as if she had awoken from the nightmare that was her life on Nuceria. But when she saw Dove standing by her sister's side she broke into tears, for she remembered. She remembered not only how she lost Yarrow but she remembered how she lost Gladiolus too. The butcher's nails prevent memories from being formed while in a state of rage but that is only effective in normal men. Angron's nails had prevented her from remembering how she murdered her father and crushed her lover in the arena but now she saw it again, clear as day. She wept and wailed in the arms of her sister, soaking her hair and wings in tears.
The pain of the nails was gone but the pain of the past was one that could not be lifted. Angron engaged with her sister, for Sanguinia managed to take her mind off of the grief she still felt. But this would not last long, for soon the Conqueror arrived carrying the war hounds legion, forcing the two sisters to separate. After this Angron fell into a deep deep depression. Ordered to lead men she barely even knew and on board of a ship she found to be unfamiliar, Angron felt even more alone than in the slave pits of Nuceria. Not even the slaves she rescued were there to accompany her for she had sent them away to a paradise world, far away so they may never again be forced to fight. Angron was alone again, she was frightened again and most of all: she was in a cage again. She locked herself in her chambers, where she sank deeper and deeper into grief and sorrow. When her marines came and tried to talk to her she lashed out in desperation, killing more than a few. Even though the nails were removed, she still felt like she was only here to endure a life of suffering and torment.
submitted by clinical_Cynicism to PrimarchGFs [link] [comments]
“There you are my lord, I have been looking for you all morning! You weren’t on the flight deck, you weren’t on the command deck nor on the Bridge nor in your personal quarters and not even on the observation deck could I find you. Landing group alpha primus were worried to terra and back, that their main asset wouldn’t show up in time for take off. First officer Morel almost cried at the thought of having lost a Primarch! Just what in the Imperiums name has possessed you to roam the lower bowes of the ship!” Sanguinia smiled and laughed: “Oh I just wanted to ensure that the ensins and marines of objective group two and three were well rested. I know they don’t mind doing the less glamorous security work but I don’t want them to feel left out just because they couldn’t take part in the parade today.” DuCarde sighed: “Please at least tell your personal security detail before going on such an unscheduled escapade”. He looked at his Primarch, then blushed and looked away. “But thank you for caring about the men”, he couldn’t stay mad at her, not with that smile. “Well then, let us proceed, before we cause a delay, If we go now we should just about make it in time”, Sanguinia winked at him and led the way.
As predicted the transport shuttles departed just in time and the descent to Nuceria was smooth and without issue. Group primus would head down towards the capitol and land just outside in a spectacular flight show before parading into the city where they would engage in the negotiations. Sanguinia knew the importance of making powerful and benevolent first impressions. Group secundus and tertius would make a less impressive descent and position themselves near the military, logistics and communications centers, just in case the talks went sour or the planetary authority would try to pull a fast one on the Legion. But so far everything went to plan, they were almost at the main square, their diplomats had engaged the planetary politicians and even though her personal honor guard was tense, looking for danger around every corner, Sanguinia made a calm and relaxed impression. She had to make a conscious effort for this impression but she knew as soon as this was done she could return to her beloved little dove and spend with them the time that was otherwise allocated for the conquest of this planet. The Desh’ean nobility welcomed Sanguinia and one man stepped forward and introduced himself as lord Thal’kr, leader of the ruling clan. His pompous attitude suggested he saw himself as an equal to Sanguinia, from one lord to another, this was a nuisance that she would just have to deal with. Usually putting pretentious mortals in their place wasn’t an issue for any primarch and she could do it tactfully too, but something about this seemed to give the red angel a headache. Regardless they followed the planetary customs to the necessary degree and were soon invited to a spectacle in the colosseum. Sanguinia, her honor guard, her remembrancer and various other guests were placed in the royal lounge with servants, wine and a grandiose view over the arena. While she was half heartedly listening to the japping of lord Thal’kr her gaze glanced over the rest of the stadium. It was packed. Bread and games seemed to keep the populous obedient. Her headache was still not going away. It was a weird feeling, not even her prescience would allow her to divine what it was. She tried to direct her focus back to what the noble was saying. “...So anyway we have this great gladiator, basically a giant, and the best part is, She’s basically indestructible. Any wound and any torment we inflict on her she recovers from. The populus loves her, especially when we have her fight great beasts like mammoths and nucerian mountain lions. But personally I think her best performance was when we had her fight alongside her adoptive father in an impossible fight, and then when they survived, we told them to kill each other! HAHAHAHA.” The laughter of the fat, opulent tyrant made Sanguinia want to cringe and turn away, but something told her to pay attention. Sanguinia became envious of her bodyguards, for they had helmets behind which they could hide their disgust. This man's ruling ethics could not have been further apart from her own. She tries to distract herself by looking at the faces of the other attendance. To her dismay the only other local that seemed to find anything wrong with this story was a young mortal standing by the balcony and holding a bouquet of flowers. Lord Thal’kr seemed to notice. "Oh? Do you fancy the little one? They are one of my Children. I’ll introduce you.” He turned and called out: “Hei Yarrow come here and give the nice lady the courtesy will you?” The young mortal hurried over, almost tripping over their light robes. They stood in front of the red angel and bowed deeply; clearly they had been raised to be polite and respectful in anticipation for a marriage alliance. “H-hello your highness my name is Yarrow, I’m blessed to meet you,” they blushed but stayed composed even in the presence of someone as intimidating as a primarch. “Come on little one be nice and subservient and maybe the lady will take you away and show you the stars beyond our world,” the tyrant laughed, “what were you doing over there by the balcony anyway? You weren’t thinking any bad thoughts about the gladiators again were you?” “Ah n-no father. Of course not.” “That’s still ‘my lord’ to you.” He shooed young Yarrow away. “Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, And then they thought they could be slick by refusing to fight each other, but we won’t be defied that easily, so we pumped her full of stimulants and had neural-anti cognitors placed in her head. Oh you should’ve seen her then, ripped her father apart like a squealing rabbit. And how she cried afterwards, like a little bitch. Oh what wouldn’t I give to hear that again.” Another noble chimed in:”But what about the time we made her fight her lover?” “Who do you mean?” The tyrant asked. “Gladiolus the beautiful but fearsome young Gladiator,” the noble replied. “Ah yeah HAHA. Well not so fearsome in the end were they?” Lord Thal’kr laughed again. “You have to know, when we learned about their relationship, they had apparently gotten close after the death of her father, we brought the two into the arena. They thought they would be fighting beasts but in reality they would have to fight each other. We gave her just enough time to realize her predicament before we pumped up the pressure on those anti-cognitors and turned her back into a wild savage animal. You should have seen them. Gladiolus pleaded with her to ‘snap out of it’ but she fell upon them and crushed their skull between her thighs like a watermelon. It was a delicious spectacle.” This man seemed to relish in the memory and just as Sanguinia contemplated if it was worth keeping him around he went: “Look! There She is. Child of the mountain, Mistress of the red sands along with our finest gladiators. Hail to those about to die!”
Sanguinia looked down into the arena and got hit with a wave of realization like an orbital bombardment. As she stared down she knew what the feeling was that had plagued her all day. It was this presence that she sensed and her prescience that had been screaming at her what her mind didn’t want to comprehend. But now it stood there below her, clear as day and no longer deniable. She thought no primarch could be more haggard than Morrigan and no such demigod could be more disheveled than Corvess. But she was wrong. Before her eyes stood, wrapped in chains, beaten and broken, her own flesh and blood. And as Angron looked up at the red angel standing at the parapet, all that Sanguinia could do was to close her mind to the visions of what was to come.
“You did WHAT to my Sister?!” The red angel spoke, dry and sharp, hair fell across her face and droplets of black blood fell on the parapet. “Well… we…”, before the tyrant could even speak she fell upon him. A massive hand clamped around his jaw and ripped it off. The guards reacted fast but the astarties reacted faster, thow they could not do much more than dispatch of the armed men before Azkellon ordered them to stand down. They looked over at their primarch who, in this brief moment, had already torn her way through seven other nobles with bare hands and was now about to reach her sword. Azkellon saw that the situation had turned most dire and knew he had to take charge. He turned on the vox:”all channels, situation’s fubar. Proceed with operational backup plan. Don’t go near mother, she is violent and unresponsive.” He then turned towards the brothers standing next to him and shouted: “Sanguinary guard evacuate the premises, ensure the retreat of all imperial non-combatants and most important of all: rescue that Primarch!” He pointed down into the arena, the lower levels of the stadium hadn’t yet realized what was happening, but sure enough there would be mass panic and a stampede. The Astarties split up and Azkellon along with his squad hopped down into the upper levels of the stadium. They did so just in time because the roof of the lodge began to buckle as the red angel cut through men and stone pillars as if they were straw. Azkellon cursed under his breath. He should have insisted on jump packs for this operation. It was no use now, they had to make their way down into the arena by foot, cut a way if necessary. When they were finally in the bottom rows the roof of the lodge above them collapsed and they heard an ear ringing scream: “HOW DARE YOU!” and “MY BABY SISTER!”. Clearly the primarch had finished massacring the major nobles in attendance and was now carving a bloody canyon through the minor ones. The stadium was now in full panik and mortals were scrambling over each other to get out of their own slaughterhouse. The Astarties hopped another fence down into the arena. A few bolter rounds dispatched of the remaining guards and Azkellon made his way over to the still restrained Angron. The next few words he spoke would be crucial to ensure the primarchs' cooperation; he had to choose them carefully and he had to choose them fast. “Mistress of the red sands, we are the angels of the Godemperor of mankind sent to aid you in your escape from this wretched place!” He prayed to Terra that she didn’t actually want to stay here. But to his relief Angron nodded and spoke:”My thanks. Get me out of these shackles, I can fight for myself.” Azkellon hurried to get out his multi-tool and got to work on the primarchs bindings. As he did so he looked her in the eyes and said: “it’s okay, you no longer need to fight for or by yourself.” Angron tried to stay stoic but he could see that the primarch was fighting to hold back tears. She looked as thow decades and decades of prayers prayed cold and lonely cells had finally been answered. When the shackles cracked and broke she turned away: ”They come with me”, she pointed to the other gladiators in the arena. “Very well”, Azkellon knew he couldn’t refuse her or the tenuous trust they had just built would be null and void. His squad freed the gladiators and they hurried out of the arena as Askellon ordered another thunderhawk for evacuation. As the last to leave the arena he looked back and saw the seating area had been filled with so much gore and viscera that blood began to spill over and run down the walls into the sand of the fighting pit. He made another vox call to the red tear and ordered them to get Dove on that thunderhawk along with as many tranquilizers as they could muster. They would need any help they could get if they wanted Sanguinia to calm down.
Angron led the astarties through the underbowels of the arena; clearly she knew her way around. However, that also meant that she chose a way that went past all the prison cells to free as many of the caged slaves, gladiators and animals as she could. Azkellon did not complain, he just wanted to get out of here. When they finally managed to leave the colosseum for good they stopped to take a brief respite. Angron turned to Azkellon and said: “I am grateful for your efforts but please, may I ask, you remove your helmet if you are able to, I’d like to see your face if you have one.” He did so and confirmed what he had felt for a while. Tears of black blood streamed down his cheeks and seeped out of his helmet. She looked shocked. “I’m sorry miss, this doesn’t usually happen, but our mother … your sister… it must be the deep connection we have with her that causes this.” Before he could apologize further for the undignified display, they saw a figure rise above the colosseum. The red angel had spread her bloodstained wings and was flying towards the ruling palace at the other end of the city. Over the vox the voice of the enraged primarch could be heard: “LET NONE LEAVE ALIVE! SHOOT ANY THAT ESCAPE THE CITY!” Azkellon had to quickly amend those orders to ensure that the slaves they rescued would survive. Then he voxed in with the other squad of sanguinary guard to get a status report on the evacuation of the imperial diplomats. Luckily they were almost out of the city and operational groups secundus and tertius hadn’t said anything so it was to be assumed that their part went to plan and there wouldn’t be any planetary reinforcements arriving in the city anytime soon. The squad tended to the malnourished slaves and wounded gladiators as best they could and then embarked on the safest possible route out of Desh’ea. The mortals would slow them down but leaving them behind wasn’t much of an option. Besides, mother had always reminded them that they were once mortal as well.
When they were about half way towards the extraction zone, they passed a squad of blood angel terminators carrying heavy equipment and escorting a young mortal. “Barbiel, is that you?” Azkellon shouted over to them. “Yes, great herald, we have the assets you requested.” “Good, the primarch went that way towards the palace. See if you can stop her madness. … Barbiel?" The crimson paladin seemed to stare off into the space behind him. But when Azkellon saw that it wasn’t just him but the other terminators and the young Dove as well he realized what it was. “This is primarch Angron Thal'kyr. we are escorting her to the thunderhawk for evacuation.” The terminators composed themselves, nodded and then hurried along.
And so passed another tense hour of walking through empty and abandoned streets while avoiding the panicking crowds. The hysteria had spread throughout the entire city and rightfully so. There wasn’t a gutter that didn’t have a trickle of blood running through it. Azkellon knew the power of the primarchs but he was still taken aback at how much carnage a single entity could cause. If there was a god of slaughter, he would surely smile this day.
When they reached the edges of the city Azkellon was relieved to hear the turbines of the thunderhawk. Angron stood still behind him, apparently needing a moment. Surely this was the first time she saw a spacecraft. “Where will this take us?” she asked. “Far away from this sight of misery,” he answered. It wasn’t untrue. “I’ll gladly go but first I need one more person to come with me,” she turned around and walked back towards the city, “I need my Yarrow, I need my desert flower, I cannot leave without them.” Azkellon was glad he had put his helmet back on, as he was certain all the color just drained from his face. He quickly voxed in with the terminator team asking if they had managed to calm down Sanguinia. Indeed they had somehow managed to stabilize her with a combination of Doves' kind words and enough tranquilizers to kill a horde of grox. Then He asked about the Tyrant's Child and after a moment of silence got the answer he did not want to expect. The red angel had slain the young mortal in her episode of unending rage. Azkellon thanked the emperor that he was the only one who could hear that answer. He told them to bring back the body of the slain Yarrow and tell Angron that they were killed by their father. He also stressed that they should ensure that no one ever finds out the truth, especially not Angron or any member of the war hounds legion.
When Angron heard news of the perishing of her second lover, she was inconsolable. She wept until they brought her the lifeless body and she wept over them the entire flight back, and she wept at the funeral when they let their corpse drift into the sun over Nuceria and she wept for several days after. These were a rough couple days despite the planetary conquest going off with very few issues. As Sanguinia read the report her legions apothecaries made about Angron and the butcher's nails in her head, she too fluctuated between rage and sorrow. She cradled and comforted her sister trying anything to lessen her pain. Finally she decided on the surgical removal of the butcher’s nails. When her apothecaries warned her of the dangers and the possibility of killing or stunting her sister, she almost tore one of their heads off shouting: “I’d rather have a brain dead sister than a suffering one.” Alas Sanguinia decided to perform the procedure herself. Her apothecaries suggested returning to nearby Ultramar to take advantage of their medical facilities, but Sanguinia denied them for she could not bear to see her Sister in agony for a single second longer.
Preparations were made and when the day of the surgery came all the medical staff of the red tear that could attend, did so. Even the ones who weren’t required sat in the amphitheater and watched the tense procedure. Sanguinia walked onto the operating floor covered in sterile white robes and a surgical mask over her face. Even her wings were covered in sterile white bindings. They would not remain white for long. Angron was rolled in and placed upon the operating table. Sanguinia looked at the sedated and still body of her sister; she was only covered in a ghostly thin sheet. “Father give me strength”, she muttered under her breath. A dozen astarties and two dozen mortal doctors huddled around the two. One of them handed Sanguinia a custom made pair of operating gloves. She dawned them, flicked them to ensure they sat tight and spoke: “let us begin”. A mortal brought her the scalpel. ‘This shall be the blade I wield today’, She thought to herself.
The surgery was long and arduous; it took three whole days before it was over. By the end Sanquinia was exhausted, she had to focus on making perfect nanometer cuts while simultaneously concentrating on using her prescience to ensure the best possible outcome. She slumped into a chair; her otherwise perfect hair was sweaty and messy. When a doctor came in to tell her that Angron's vital signs read normal, her exhausted face managed to curl into a mellow smile. Dove wanted to comfort her after all the work she did, but she only allowed it for a moment. For Sanguinia knew that her sister would soon awake and she needed to be there. When Angron awoke and looked into her sister's eyes she smiled, feeling as if she had awoken from the nightmare that was her life on Nuceria. But when she saw Dove standing by her sister's side she broke into tears, for she remembered. She remembered not only how she lost Yarrow but she remembered how she lost Gladiolus too. The butcher's nails prevent memories from being formed while in a state of rage but that is only effective in normal men. Angron's nails had prevented her from remembering how she murdered her father and crushed her lover in the arena but now she saw it again, clear as day. She wept and wailed in the arms of her sister, soaking her hair and wings in tears.
The pain of the nails was gone but the pain of the past was one that could not be lifted. Angron engaged with her sister, for Sanguinia managed to take her mind off of the grief she still felt. But this would not last long, for soon the Conqueror arrived carrying the war hounds legion, forcing the two sisters to separate. After this Angron fell into a deep deep depression. Ordered to lead men she barely even knew and on board of a ship she found to be unfamiliar, Angron felt even more alone than in the slave pits of Nuceria. Not even the slaves she rescued were there to accompany her for she had sent them away to a paradise world, far away so they may never again be forced to fight. Angron was alone again, she was frightened again and most of all: she was in a cage again. She locked herself in her chambers, where she sank deeper and deeper into grief and sorrow. When her marines came and tried to talk to her she lashed out in desperation, killing more than a few. Even though the nails were removed, she still felt like she was only here to endure a life of suffering and torment.
2024.05.15 21:34 MissBarker93 My older sister, that went no contact gave me a harsh reality check + Older sister's side of the story
I am not the OOP, this was originally posted in TrueOffMyChest and is two sisters giving their own sides of a story.
TW: religion, cults, grooming/child marriage, domestic abuse, child abuse
First post by u/Automatic-jay (posted April 27th, 2024)
My older sister (F31) we will call her Jessie, went no contact with me and the rest of the family close to 10 years ago. I was 13 when this happened all I remembered was I came home from school with my other siblings and both of my parents told me that Jessie was no longer a part of our family and that she chose satan over family and I remember being crushed. I think I cried when they first told me because I felt like she just abandoned me. After that conversation, my parents banned us from speaking about Jessie and removed all photos of her around the house. The months that went on without Jessie the more I grew to hate her and got angry that she chose satan over our family.
Meanwhile, for me, I stayed very much loyal to my parents…I studied the Bible day and night and was active in my church, just so I could prove to my parents I was not like Jessie. At 16 my parents signed off and I got married to my now husband. Then 6 months after our wedding, I got pregnant with my first child and I had a tough birth. It was an at-home birth and to put it in simpler terms I almost died…I lost a lot of blood and on top of that went into heart failure. I didn’t know but Jessie tried showing up to the hospital but my parents had security escort her out. Jessie tried to reach out to me numerous times throughout the years but I always blocked her because I was under the impression she was an apostate.
Fast forward to now, I’m 23 and I have 4 daughters. Also recently found out I was pregnant and I went to an eye doctor appointment and guess who was at the front desk. My older sister Jessie. I was kinda stuck for a moment because a part of me wanted to just hug her and tell her how much I missed her. But I just couldn’t given everything I was told about her. She tried to make small talk with me but I gave her the cold shoulder a bit…towards the end of my visit. She gave me a card with her number and told me to please meet up with her to explain her side. After 3 days of going back and forth with myself, I decided to meet up with her, for closure initially. She told me she never wanted to leave me but the church left her no choice. Her ex-husband that she was married to while she was in the church was abusive towards her and was beating the crap out of her and she begged our minister to be released from marriage and he didn’t allow it.. since she was scared for her and my nephew’s life she left.
As awful as it sounds I did not believe her, because her ex husband got remarried to one of my friends and she has no visible signs of abuse or let alone told me she was getting hurt by him. She then went into how our parents are a part of a cult and how it destroyed our family. I remember I did get angry with her and started calling her apostate, and that she was lying to protect herself from sin. She then just lets me have it and says “ I’ve been trying to be nice to you because even if you don’t like feel like it you're a victim. You were a child bride that also dropped out of school to become a wife & mother. The only reason why the church is nice to you is because of your daughters and they don’t want to piss you off and lose the girls. If you want to continue to be brainwashed and spineless be my guest, but if you can’t leave for yourself leave for your daughters” Then she just gets up and leaves.
Ever since that conversation, I’ve been replaying everything I was ever taught in my life and questioning it … I've been googling, reading Reddit stories..but thinking about the religion I invested so much time into being a complete lie..is honestly too hurtful to think about. Especially my husband…is our relationship a lie? Did he groom me or was he also a victim of the circumstances of our religion? I have the answer to none of these questions and I quite honestly don’t know if I want to know.
EDIT: thank you everyone for the feedback, Ive been reading all the comments and to answer a couple repeitive questions. I don't feel comfortable revealing what church Im apart of given i have no idea if anyone actually creeps on reddit and I dont want to risk it. secondly my husband, he's not abusive towards me and never once hit me or his daughters. but also he works 60hrs a week so our time together is limited these days. As far as my sister she has sent me a follow up text after our conversation apologizing to me for being blunt with me and I havent responded because I still have soo much to think about and have virtually nowhere to start it feels. but also I want to apologize if I came across as a victim blamer in my post thats never my intention.
Comment on the original post from the older sister (posted May 1st, 2024):
Hey, It's " Jessie" I'm glad you took my advice and did some research and looked at subreddits about everything I told you like two weeks ago !! It is a shame that you never responded to me and did not follow up on anything, i really wish you would just talk to me. However like I've been saying this entire time I would help you and my nieces in any way to get you out of the situation. Still, your actions, however.. have made it seem like you are not interested given how much detail you have conveniently left out regarding our parents, Your husband, and the reason why I left. Because your husband is 35 years old? I have no idea why you made him younger in these comments. Also maybe you do not know but Mom and Dad had him picked out for you prior to him even asking to court you..right when you were only 13 his name was being thrown out as a suitor for you so idk why you made it seem like it's a women's choice in the comments when it never is and you know that. I know you know the organization is wrong because you refused to answer a lot of questions in these comments and how you conveniently left out a lot of things.
I love you. but I hope you wake up soon and stop purposefully being delusional and protect my nieces from the men in the organization... you know the same men that protected the guy that molested you and I was the only person that believed you? I know you know deep down that they deserve better lives. I know you are a victim of the organization and suffered probably way more than me at this point. Our parents failed us both and never protected us and I wish more than anything I could have protected you better and taken you with me when I left. Again I love you please don't become like our parents.
Second post by u/Money_Particular_127 (posted May 1st, 2024)
I saw that my sister posted here and the post gathered a lot of traction so I thought it would be necessary to share my side I’m Jessie in her story, and I commented on her post I don’t remember her exact username. But I’m here to offer a bit of better context.
My little sister is in a religious cult that she’s willingly participating in and in my opinion putting my nieces in potential harm's way. I know she sees me as some devil that was sent by satan to tempt her but I’m most definitely not that…I'm not gonna say what church to protect my sister, however, she should face some accountability given she’s an adult now. But to start from the beginning, we come from a big family of 8 siblings total of 6 boys and the other 2 which are me and my sister. I pretty much raised my siblings being the 3rd oldest especially my younger sister and it kinda hurt that she brushed past that in her post. But moving on I looked after her and my siblings until I was married off which was when I was 18 and it would probably be 16 if I wasn’t firm about finishing high school, but I didn’t want to get married and the only reason why I married my ex-husband was because he was the only suitor at the time in the religion, that was okay about me continuing my studies and go to college. I regret that now given he was lying he got me pregnant right away and was an abuser. I’m not going to go into detail but he would have most likely killed me or my son if it wasn’t for me leaving when I did. My son was also the main factor in why I left, so it’s baffling to me that my sister has 4 daughters and does not ever have the urge to leave. Instead continued to listen to these same men who told me I needed to stay with my abuser…because it was a testament from god that I needed to get through it with my husband.
Then my birth givers, honestly they should be in jail if you ask me. Especially my father He’s a shit person.. I saw him fistfight with my brothers regularly back when he was like 200 pounds and my brothers were like 80 pounds. He has never hit me personally but I have seen him quite literally knock the wind out of my mother and we were conditioned to think that was normal and it wasn’t. I know my sister is not going to like me bringing in our parents because the way her life is now is thanks to them. But I mean it has its benefits because she’s probably the golden child for them. Because she’s not the difficult child and is the one who does what she’s told.
Now her husband, He’s 35 years old. So yes he was 28 marrying a 16-year-old!! Before you ask how is that legal? In my awful state, you can get married at 16 with parental permission, and on top of that, the age of consent is 16 years old. So everything was legal. I remember when I first heard she was getting married to her husband, I tried everything in my power to stop the marriage from going through…I got the police involved and they were absolutely useless. Because of the First Amendment and on top of that, they privately interviewed my little sister and she basically said she’s not being forced to do anything against her will. So there’s nothing the cops could do. I still get mad at this situation to this day... Luckily her husband is not abusive..she got extremely lucky there. But he’s still horrible in my opinion it’s absolutely ridiculous how she has either been pregnant or had a baby on her hip the entirety of their marriage so far. She couldn’t finish high school because of the lack of help with the baby plus he nearly killed my sister…when he pushed for an at-home birth knowing she had preeclampsia and he also threatened me with a restraining order when I tried to go see her in the hospital.
Now back to our conversation 2 weeks ago, you really hurt me when you didn’t believe me about my abuse. Like I was honestly devastated that you would believe a man who signed his rights away as a father to protect his image than me your sister? But I also know you’re extremely naïve and have been severely brainwashed, so I’m not mad at you. But I was indeed hurt by you…given everything you ever told me I believed you, without any hesitation. Also when you didn’t want to bring your daughters to meet my kids….That hurt me also. Especially seemingly you didn’t want to acknowledge my kids when we met up. I’m saying this because I want you to know that your actions do have cause and effect on other people because I don’t think you understand that fully. I hate that I have resorted to a Reddit post to get your freaking attention but maybe once you see the countless people in here saying the same thing maybe you would realize I’m on your side and I've always been on your side. The people in that organization only care about you and your family because you have daughters & you’re still willing to pop more kids out for them and blindly follow them. Again I will repeat myself I will help you if you let me…but as of right now, you’re not letting me.
UPDATE: I'm so glad this gained traction and you guys got my sister to respond to me so thank you !! however, it wasn't what I wanted to hear. we talked on the phone for about 3hrs today and it was a lot of back and forth. To put it quite simply my sister does not want to leave her husband, but she does want to leave the religion. so she wants time to potentially convince him to leave with her. In my humble opinion, I don't see him leaving the church, But she thinks otherwise. I then asked her if she would still leave If he didn't want to and she didn't give me a firm yes or no the only thing she said wants to wait until she has her baby since she is pregnant. I'm kinda disappointed I am not going to lie, it sounds like she was making excuses to shut me up. I'm sorry it's not the update y'all wanted to hear. I would hate for her to leave me no choice and to go nuclear on her and get my friend who's a social worker to get CPS involved. But I'm not going to do that yet I'm going to calm down for now, but it's just frustrating trying to talk sense into anyone that's so brainwashed and sees me as like one of satan's disciples.
REMINDER: This is a repost sub. I am not the OOP.
submitted by MissBarker93 to BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]
TW: religion, cults, grooming/child marriage, domestic abuse, child abuse
First post by u/Automatic-jay (posted April 27th, 2024)
My older sister (F31) we will call her Jessie, went no contact with me and the rest of the family close to 10 years ago. I was 13 when this happened all I remembered was I came home from school with my other siblings and both of my parents told me that Jessie was no longer a part of our family and that she chose satan over family and I remember being crushed. I think I cried when they first told me because I felt like she just abandoned me. After that conversation, my parents banned us from speaking about Jessie and removed all photos of her around the house. The months that went on without Jessie the more I grew to hate her and got angry that she chose satan over our family.
Meanwhile, for me, I stayed very much loyal to my parents…I studied the Bible day and night and was active in my church, just so I could prove to my parents I was not like Jessie. At 16 my parents signed off and I got married to my now husband. Then 6 months after our wedding, I got pregnant with my first child and I had a tough birth. It was an at-home birth and to put it in simpler terms I almost died…I lost a lot of blood and on top of that went into heart failure. I didn’t know but Jessie tried showing up to the hospital but my parents had security escort her out. Jessie tried to reach out to me numerous times throughout the years but I always blocked her because I was under the impression she was an apostate.
Fast forward to now, I’m 23 and I have 4 daughters. Also recently found out I was pregnant and I went to an eye doctor appointment and guess who was at the front desk. My older sister Jessie. I was kinda stuck for a moment because a part of me wanted to just hug her and tell her how much I missed her. But I just couldn’t given everything I was told about her. She tried to make small talk with me but I gave her the cold shoulder a bit…towards the end of my visit. She gave me a card with her number and told me to please meet up with her to explain her side. After 3 days of going back and forth with myself, I decided to meet up with her, for closure initially. She told me she never wanted to leave me but the church left her no choice. Her ex-husband that she was married to while she was in the church was abusive towards her and was beating the crap out of her and she begged our minister to be released from marriage and he didn’t allow it.. since she was scared for her and my nephew’s life she left.
As awful as it sounds I did not believe her, because her ex husband got remarried to one of my friends and she has no visible signs of abuse or let alone told me she was getting hurt by him. She then went into how our parents are a part of a cult and how it destroyed our family. I remember I did get angry with her and started calling her apostate, and that she was lying to protect herself from sin. She then just lets me have it and says “ I’ve been trying to be nice to you because even if you don’t like feel like it you're a victim. You were a child bride that also dropped out of school to become a wife & mother. The only reason why the church is nice to you is because of your daughters and they don’t want to piss you off and lose the girls. If you want to continue to be brainwashed and spineless be my guest, but if you can’t leave for yourself leave for your daughters” Then she just gets up and leaves.
Ever since that conversation, I’ve been replaying everything I was ever taught in my life and questioning it … I've been googling, reading Reddit stories..but thinking about the religion I invested so much time into being a complete lie..is honestly too hurtful to think about. Especially my husband…is our relationship a lie? Did he groom me or was he also a victim of the circumstances of our religion? I have the answer to none of these questions and I quite honestly don’t know if I want to know.
EDIT: thank you everyone for the feedback, Ive been reading all the comments and to answer a couple repeitive questions. I don't feel comfortable revealing what church Im apart of given i have no idea if anyone actually creeps on reddit and I dont want to risk it. secondly my husband, he's not abusive towards me and never once hit me or his daughters. but also he works 60hrs a week so our time together is limited these days. As far as my sister she has sent me a follow up text after our conversation apologizing to me for being blunt with me and I havent responded because I still have soo much to think about and have virtually nowhere to start it feels. but also I want to apologize if I came across as a victim blamer in my post thats never my intention.
Hey, It's " Jessie" I'm glad you took my advice and did some research and looked at subreddits about everything I told you like two weeks ago !! It is a shame that you never responded to me and did not follow up on anything, i really wish you would just talk to me. However like I've been saying this entire time I would help you and my nieces in any way to get you out of the situation. Still, your actions, however.. have made it seem like you are not interested given how much detail you have conveniently left out regarding our parents, Your husband, and the reason why I left. Because your husband is 35 years old? I have no idea why you made him younger in these comments. Also maybe you do not know but Mom and Dad had him picked out for you prior to him even asking to court you..right when you were only 13 his name was being thrown out as a suitor for you so idk why you made it seem like it's a women's choice in the comments when it never is and you know that. I know you know the organization is wrong because you refused to answer a lot of questions in these comments and how you conveniently left out a lot of things.
I love you. but I hope you wake up soon and stop purposefully being delusional and protect my nieces from the men in the organization... you know the same men that protected the guy that molested you and I was the only person that believed you? I know you know deep down that they deserve better lives. I know you are a victim of the organization and suffered probably way more than me at this point. Our parents failed us both and never protected us and I wish more than anything I could have protected you better and taken you with me when I left. Again I love you please don't become like our parents.
I saw that my sister posted here and the post gathered a lot of traction so I thought it would be necessary to share my side I’m Jessie in her story, and I commented on her post I don’t remember her exact username. But I’m here to offer a bit of better context.
My little sister is in a religious cult that she’s willingly participating in and in my opinion putting my nieces in potential harm's way. I know she sees me as some devil that was sent by satan to tempt her but I’m most definitely not that…I'm not gonna say what church to protect my sister, however, she should face some accountability given she’s an adult now. But to start from the beginning, we come from a big family of 8 siblings total of 6 boys and the other 2 which are me and my sister. I pretty much raised my siblings being the 3rd oldest especially my younger sister and it kinda hurt that she brushed past that in her post. But moving on I looked after her and my siblings until I was married off which was when I was 18 and it would probably be 16 if I wasn’t firm about finishing high school, but I didn’t want to get married and the only reason why I married my ex-husband was because he was the only suitor at the time in the religion, that was okay about me continuing my studies and go to college. I regret that now given he was lying he got me pregnant right away and was an abuser. I’m not going to go into detail but he would have most likely killed me or my son if it wasn’t for me leaving when I did. My son was also the main factor in why I left, so it’s baffling to me that my sister has 4 daughters and does not ever have the urge to leave. Instead continued to listen to these same men who told me I needed to stay with my abuser…because it was a testament from god that I needed to get through it with my husband.
Then my birth givers, honestly they should be in jail if you ask me. Especially my father He’s a shit person.. I saw him fistfight with my brothers regularly back when he was like 200 pounds and my brothers were like 80 pounds. He has never hit me personally but I have seen him quite literally knock the wind out of my mother and we were conditioned to think that was normal and it wasn’t. I know my sister is not going to like me bringing in our parents because the way her life is now is thanks to them. But I mean it has its benefits because she’s probably the golden child for them. Because she’s not the difficult child and is the one who does what she’s told.
Now her husband, He’s 35 years old. So yes he was 28 marrying a 16-year-old!! Before you ask how is that legal? In my awful state, you can get married at 16 with parental permission, and on top of that, the age of consent is 16 years old. So everything was legal. I remember when I first heard she was getting married to her husband, I tried everything in my power to stop the marriage from going through…I got the police involved and they were absolutely useless. Because of the First Amendment and on top of that, they privately interviewed my little sister and she basically said she’s not being forced to do anything against her will. So there’s nothing the cops could do. I still get mad at this situation to this day... Luckily her husband is not abusive..she got extremely lucky there. But he’s still horrible in my opinion it’s absolutely ridiculous how she has either been pregnant or had a baby on her hip the entirety of their marriage so far. She couldn’t finish high school because of the lack of help with the baby plus he nearly killed my sister…when he pushed for an at-home birth knowing she had preeclampsia and he also threatened me with a restraining order when I tried to go see her in the hospital.
Now back to our conversation 2 weeks ago, you really hurt me when you didn’t believe me about my abuse. Like I was honestly devastated that you would believe a man who signed his rights away as a father to protect his image than me your sister? But I also know you’re extremely naïve and have been severely brainwashed, so I’m not mad at you. But I was indeed hurt by you…given everything you ever told me I believed you, without any hesitation. Also when you didn’t want to bring your daughters to meet my kids….That hurt me also. Especially seemingly you didn’t want to acknowledge my kids when we met up. I’m saying this because I want you to know that your actions do have cause and effect on other people because I don’t think you understand that fully. I hate that I have resorted to a Reddit post to get your freaking attention but maybe once you see the countless people in here saying the same thing maybe you would realize I’m on your side and I've always been on your side. The people in that organization only care about you and your family because you have daughters & you’re still willing to pop more kids out for them and blindly follow them. Again I will repeat myself I will help you if you let me…but as of right now, you’re not letting me.
UPDATE: I'm so glad this gained traction and you guys got my sister to respond to me so thank you !! however, it wasn't what I wanted to hear. we talked on the phone for about 3hrs today and it was a lot of back and forth. To put it quite simply my sister does not want to leave her husband, but she does want to leave the religion. so she wants time to potentially convince him to leave with her. In my humble opinion, I don't see him leaving the church, But she thinks otherwise. I then asked her if she would still leave If he didn't want to and she didn't give me a firm yes or no the only thing she said wants to wait until she has her baby since she is pregnant. I'm kinda disappointed I am not going to lie, it sounds like she was making excuses to shut me up. I'm sorry it's not the update y'all wanted to hear. I would hate for her to leave me no choice and to go nuclear on her and get my friend who's a social worker to get CPS involved. But I'm not going to do that yet I'm going to calm down for now, but it's just frustrating trying to talk sense into anyone that's so brainwashed and sees me as like one of satan's disciples.
2024.05.15 19:14 yolkyikes In The Case of The Deceased
I sat in the courtroom, handcuffed and clothed in orange. A dangerous killer I am. Though the evidence is damning and witnesses can testify my guilt, the pockets of my family run deeper than the results of DNA tests when it comes to law.
After 6 months of litigation, the day of the judge's verdict has come. Though my opposition would pull a move no one saw coming. He called a witness. Despite my attorney pointing out the time of witnesses on the stand has passed, the judge allowed the prosecutor to call his witness.
I had slain over 20 women, 3 men, and 6 I don't remember, but the attorney called a witness I recognized. "I call to the stand, Serena Baxby."
The courtroom gasped and my attorney pointed out that Ms. Baxby is deceased. She was dead. But still, men entered the courtroom, wheeling her corpse to the stand in a wheelchair. Her decomposed body sat at the stand, maggots and dust obscured her skeletal features.
She was my tenth victim, killed about a year ago now. No one seemed to understand the point, was it a cruel joke? People were taken aback by the sight and smell as the prosecutor pulled out something from his suitcase. An old book.
He opened the book and began whispering as the lights flickered. My lawyer attempted to object, but for some reason, the judge found this ritual to be perfectly fine.
Suddenly, the corpse jolted. The lights dimmed, I stood to catch a better look at the reanimating corpse. Just as fast as I stood, the corpse rose to its feet as well. The prosecutor screamed Serena's name and asked her. "Who took your life?" She pointed her decrepit finger to me.
They repeated this process over and over again. I got to revisit most of my victims. The evidence was now too damning. Straight from the afterlife, my victims condemned me with truth.
The judge reached his verdict. Innocent. Things just seem to work out for me and my family. I was escorted to a small room, still chained unfortunately, but exonerated of my crimes.
Sitting in the bland room, a lone table with a lone me. The lights went out. I couldn't see. Though I felt slim hands touch my head, looking up, the lights returned. The frail hand was of bone, of one of my nameless sins, the bony hand clenched onto my helpless scalp, pouring blood down my face. The dead tore me to pieces. Starting from the flesh of my face, concluding with the skin off my back. Slowly and meticulously, my reunion with the dead covered the once bland room with crimson.
submitted by yolkyikes to shortscarystories [link] [comments]
After 6 months of litigation, the day of the judge's verdict has come. Though my opposition would pull a move no one saw coming. He called a witness. Despite my attorney pointing out the time of witnesses on the stand has passed, the judge allowed the prosecutor to call his witness.
I had slain over 20 women, 3 men, and 6 I don't remember, but the attorney called a witness I recognized. "I call to the stand, Serena Baxby."
The courtroom gasped and my attorney pointed out that Ms. Baxby is deceased. She was dead. But still, men entered the courtroom, wheeling her corpse to the stand in a wheelchair. Her decomposed body sat at the stand, maggots and dust obscured her skeletal features.
She was my tenth victim, killed about a year ago now. No one seemed to understand the point, was it a cruel joke? People were taken aback by the sight and smell as the prosecutor pulled out something from his suitcase. An old book.
He opened the book and began whispering as the lights flickered. My lawyer attempted to object, but for some reason, the judge found this ritual to be perfectly fine.
Suddenly, the corpse jolted. The lights dimmed, I stood to catch a better look at the reanimating corpse. Just as fast as I stood, the corpse rose to its feet as well. The prosecutor screamed Serena's name and asked her. "Who took your life?" She pointed her decrepit finger to me.
They repeated this process over and over again. I got to revisit most of my victims. The evidence was now too damning. Straight from the afterlife, my victims condemned me with truth.
The judge reached his verdict. Innocent. Things just seem to work out for me and my family. I was escorted to a small room, still chained unfortunately, but exonerated of my crimes.
Sitting in the bland room, a lone table with a lone me. The lights went out. I couldn't see. Though I felt slim hands touch my head, looking up, the lights returned. The frail hand was of bone, of one of my nameless sins, the bony hand clenched onto my helpless scalp, pouring blood down my face. The dead tore me to pieces. Starting from the flesh of my face, concluding with the skin off my back. Slowly and meticulously, my reunion with the dead covered the once bland room with crimson.
2024.05.15 18:37 JFalconerIV Food Fare staff attacked by suspect using brass knuckles
 | A teenage boy is facing charges after several employees at a Food Fare were assaulted by a suspect wielding brass knuckles on Tuesday evening. submitted by JFalconerIV to Winnipeg [link] [comments] The incident happened at about 6:40 p.m. at the grocery store at 905 Portage Ave. Three male employees, ages 19, 22 and 46, were transported to hospital and treated for various upper-body injuries. The suspect fled on foot before officers arrived, the Winnipeg Police Service said in a news release Wednesday morning. The WPS said investigators have learned that staff members removed the suspect from the store earlier in the day after some sort of incident. The suspect later returned, produced brass knuckles and assaulted the three victims, the WPS said. A suspect was arrested at the rear of the 1000 block of Selkirk Avenue. The WPS said officers saw the suspect discard brass knuckles in a nearby yard and found the weapon. The Winnipeg teen is facing three counts of assault with a weapon and one count of possession of a prohibited or restricted weapon knowing its possession is unauthorized. He was released from custody on an undertaking. On Tuesday night, the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs announced it would hold a news conference regarding the incident Wednesday morning. The event was cancelled Wednesday. The Food Fare store has been the site of a few incidents between staff members and suspected shoplifters. WPS spokesman Const. Claude Chancy said Tuesday’s incident does not appear to be related to any incidents media have previously reported on. “This would stand on its own as an unrelated incident,” he said. The WPS declined to reveal the circumstances that led to the suspect being escorted out of the store earlier in the day. Police deferred comment to Food Fare on that matter. “This male returned as a direct response to what had happened,” Chancy said. “The victims were the same people that were involved in the process of escorting him out during the earlier incident.” He said the victims suffered a range of injuries when they were struck with brass knuckles. One may have suffered a concussion. Store owners suspended a supervisor last month after an altercation with an Indigenous woman who was accused of stealing. Security video viewed by a Free Press reporter showed the employee pulling on the woman’s bag. The woman appears to swing her fist at the employee before the staff member appears to punch her in the face. In response, the AMC, which provides food orders and vouchers to clients under a federal government program, announced it had severed its relationship with the grocer but was willing to reconcile if an apology was forthcoming. The AMC said in the Tuesday news advisory that it’s “working closely with the owners of Food Fare, who have expressed their sincere apologies for a previous incident where a woman was injured by security at their store. In response, the owners have agreed to implement cultural sensitivity training for their staff and to draft a comprehensive policy to address shoplifting.” The advisory stated the speakers at the now-cancelled news conference would include Grand Chief Cathy Merrick, Food Fare owner Munther Zeid, as well as Tarik Zeid and Wajih Zeid. A Winnipeg woman said she witnessed another incident involving an employee May 5. Gloria Enns was stopped at a red light at Portage Avenue and Arlington Street at about 3 p.m. when she saw two men fighting. One was wearing a red apron she recognized as a Food Fare uniform. Enns said she called the store and an employee confirmed a worker confronted a male after seeing him steal meat. Food Fare manager Tarik Zeid told the Free Press no one was physically hurt and the employee was “defending the store and the merchandise.” Security footage from the store, which was viewed by the Free Press, appears to show a man take two packages of steaks and slip them into a reusable bag. The employee confronted him at the entrance of the store and tugged on the bag in his hand. fpcity@freepress.mb.ca |
2024.05.15 18:20 Substantial_Low_3873 We worked because of my trauma? Wtf? How do I fix that?
I’m just so frustrated because I feel like I’m failing in my own recovery right now. I’ve been a hot severely depressed mess for over a month now. In addition to that I have been feeling in the last couple weeks that my husband’s behavior has changed and it has freaked me out because I was worried about relapse. Turns out he stopped one of his meds- the one that helped him when he was losing his shit and became emotionally abusive and accusing me of wanting to sleep with all the men in my past for no fucking reason. Fantastic, just what I need right now.
Anyway, I failed the 90 day sex break. I only lasted 30 days. His CSAT said it was ok as long as I was ok. Apparently I’m the driver of this ship. Ok. I worry it’s the blind leading the blind and wonder how many other couples are in this situation.
My therapist says the reason my marriage didn’t fall to pieces years ago or die in its crib is because my husband’s trauma and my trauma fit together like a puzzle. Both hyper sexual, both have addiction in our family, alcohol in his, eating disorder in mine. He had over expression of emotion in his family and rage, I had high encouragement to suppress sadness and anger in my family, but in much more subtle ways than in his nightmare family. I was promiscuous and didn’t want to continue and was glad to find someone to match me. He was hypersexual (even more than me) and controlling but not a fan of monogamy in the same vein as me apparently. And so here we are.
He cheated with cyber sex, porn, onlyfans, emotional affairs, online”friends”, secret friendships, attempted affairs, flirting with the idea of escorts and making porn with others (so he says). And I invited this because of my trauma (rape and child sa victim)? How do I heal then? How does a relationship that is made from brokenness become normal when neither of us know what that is?
When I think about what leaving would look like, I worry that I’m so used to broken that normal would be scary. That sex would be all wrong. I both worry that I would be either too much or not enough. And then of course there is the idea that none of that matters because I could never be with anyone else, both because I Iove my husband and because my special needs kid would make me a pariah in the dating world. Ugh. Does anyone ever actually fix this? It feels like I’m just going to become more and more broken until I’m catatonic at this point.
submitted by Substantial_Low_3873 to loveafterporn [link] [comments]
Anyway, I failed the 90 day sex break. I only lasted 30 days. His CSAT said it was ok as long as I was ok. Apparently I’m the driver of this ship. Ok. I worry it’s the blind leading the blind and wonder how many other couples are in this situation.
My therapist says the reason my marriage didn’t fall to pieces years ago or die in its crib is because my husband’s trauma and my trauma fit together like a puzzle. Both hyper sexual, both have addiction in our family, alcohol in his, eating disorder in mine. He had over expression of emotion in his family and rage, I had high encouragement to suppress sadness and anger in my family, but in much more subtle ways than in his nightmare family. I was promiscuous and didn’t want to continue and was glad to find someone to match me. He was hypersexual (even more than me) and controlling but not a fan of monogamy in the same vein as me apparently. And so here we are.
He cheated with cyber sex, porn, onlyfans, emotional affairs, online”friends”, secret friendships, attempted affairs, flirting with the idea of escorts and making porn with others (so he says). And I invited this because of my trauma (rape and child sa victim)? How do I heal then? How does a relationship that is made from brokenness become normal when neither of us know what that is?
When I think about what leaving would look like, I worry that I’m so used to broken that normal would be scary. That sex would be all wrong. I both worry that I would be either too much or not enough. And then of course there is the idea that none of that matters because I could never be with anyone else, both because I Iove my husband and because my special needs kid would make me a pariah in the dating world. Ugh. Does anyone ever actually fix this? It feels like I’m just going to become more and more broken until I’m catatonic at this point.
2024.05.15 17:32 amnesicpachyderm Every side quest reviewed - share your favorites/most hated quests
I loved Rebirth, and while the side quests were vastly improved they were still pretty hit or miss. Which side quests did you like/hate?
I’ve decided to review all 36 quests for some ungodly reason.
Grasslands:
submitted by amnesicpachyderm to FFVIIRemake [link] [comments]
I’ve decided to review all 36 quests for some ungodly reason.
Grasslands:
- Flowers from the Hill - C
- Kinda cute storyline, but they missed an opportunity for some Aerith backstory - idk, what’s her favorite flower or something? Or a memory tied to flowers? Devious on hard mode.
- Lifeline in Peril - F
- I don’t like Kyrie, I don’t really like to not like Kyrie. A collectathon and doesn’t have much to do with Barret. A unique boss, but not a very interesting one.
- A Rare Card Lost - A
- I like the bartender’s dialogue and VA, you get a great reward, and there’s a nice scene with Tifa that gets referenced later in a meaningful way. Wish there was more to Thorin, though.
- Livestock’s Bane - D
- You get some Red development, but it’s a tracking quest and I don’t like the setup or enemy at the end.
- Where the Wind Blows - A
- A lot of setup required, but the Broden stuff is good and is referenced later. The boss fight is pretty good (the first time). Doesn’t have much to do with Red.
- Hustle and Grind - C
- I don’t really like Beck’s Badasses, but the interview is silly and you get to see the motorbike dudes. An annoying fight and doesn’t have anything to do with Barret, though.
- Stuck in a Rut - C
- Kind of awkward setup but I like the wrinkly old tatted dude and you get a good view of the cost from the hut on the cliff. Following the map was OK.
- When Words Won’t Do - A+
- Probably my favorite quest and it’s an escort mission! Top tier banter between Barret and Cloud and the bow wow wow song is so good.
- Calling All Frogs - B
- I wish there were fewer enemies for the frog encounter because it drags on for too long. Quirky, weird, and Tifa and Cloud flirt. Also frogs are cool.
- The Hardest Sell - D
- I still don’t like her. The decorations bump it up to a D, though. Red has nothing to do with this quest.
- Dreaming of Blue Skies - C
- A nice scene with Tifa at the end, but it’s a tracking quest. Not particularly interesting, but overall OK.
- Tides of War and Worry - A
- I liked this mini game. Revisiting it once much later on was fine and it doesn’t overstay its welcome (and it’s pretty easy).
- Beneath Still Waters - C
- A unique boss, and we get to see our infantry bros again, but aside from them not turning us in there’s nothing interesting about this encounter. Not any Aerith development.
- The Saga of the Seaside Inn - B
- Unique premise, and Yuffie and Cloud continue talking about it as you have to come back to it later. I don’t like collecting the wood blocks - mindless busy work.
- Rendezvous in Costa del Sol - F
- Look I really don’t want to do those mini games again. The Aerith date is kind of off-putting. Fair enough, it makes some sense but it’s still a bummer.
- Bodybuilders in a Bind - D
- I had trouble finding the group of monsters on the hill. The food talk with Tifa is OK, but kind of boring. Missed opportunity to talk about Zangan which would have been much more interesting. The sit-up mini game was way too unforgiving.
- Of Robed Men and Ransoms - C
- A unique mini dungeon with a unique vibe is cool. Makes sense that it’s a Red quest. I don’t like the team rocket duo at the end, they aren’t really interesting in any way.
- Missing: Mr. Birdie - F
- Cute premise, but I did not like setting and then returning to the traps.
- Trouble in Paradise - C
- Kyrie, but you get to threaten to kill her. Also a cool boss fight at the end of this quest. A Yuffie quest even though she really has nothing to do with it.
- Gold Cup or Bust - F
- I really like the lore for this quest, and it’s only a bit of a stretch for it to be a Tifa quest. But man, you have to do a LOT of races for this one. Too many.
- Sand and Circuses - C
- Cool to see Leslie again, will probably come back next game. Some of those fights were kind of annoying, and it forced me to use the materia menu a lot which is always a pain.
- Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop - F
- He should have stopped. Luckily it wasn’t bugged for me.
- The Pursuit of Perfection - A
- I liked following the pictures. Nothing to complain about here.
- O Chicken, Where Art Thou - F
- Annoying AF. Funny ending.
- Teach Me, Great Warrior - D
- Despite the Zach connection I wasn’t really feeling it. The enemies died too quickly to be staggered, that was annoying.
- The Spice of Life - F
- Too much work and not really any payoff. Not really any Aerith development either.
- Escape from Endless Writer’s Block - C
- Kind of annoying to actually get the photos, but story-wise it was nice.
- Woodland Vigil - F
- I did not like going back and forth to do the spotting, and we don’t really learn anything about Zach or Cissnei.
- Bonds of Trust - F
- Did not like this mini game. And you have to do it three times. The story is boring and predictable. Really wish the chocobos could just fly, gliding isn’t nearly as fun.
- Absence of a Sign - D
- A cute moment between Aerith and Cloud, but I didn’t like fighting that same scorpion 3 times and taking the pictures was finicky.
- From Whence Life Flows - D
- I didn’t like following this particular map, I didn’t like having to do them in a specific order and I feel like you don’t really learn much lore from this quest which is kind of annoying.
- Promises to Keep - D
- Didn’t like running across the desert and the story is kind of nonsensical? I like how they handled the Gi overall in this game, though.
- Victim of Circumstance - F
- Hated following the signal, hated fighting enemies that can swallow party members.
- Esoteric Secrets of the Elders - C
- Picking up the plants is kind of fun, there’s a kooky guy in a chocobo onesie.
- My White-Haired Angel - C
- A little too long, a little too annoying of an escort quest. Still nice and it’s kind of funny to keep the cat catching theme going. Funny to have the cats in the piano performance at the end.
- Lament of the Damned - D
- Shinra manor was kind of a letdown, and even though you get to go on a quest with Vincent the actual encounters in the combat simulator were way too repetitive.
2024.05.15 17:31 rabio-sa Comment lui révéler que je sais qu'il va voir des escorts ?
Je suis en couple (F30 et H30) avec un homme depuis 7 mois. Tout se passe bien. Du moins je croyais.
C'est quelqu'un de très porté sur le sexe. Il a toujours été transparent sur son passé : il a fait sa première fois avec une prostituée, il a beaucoup utilisé les applications de rencontres pour du sexe notamment des applications qui renvoie vers des personnes qui ont des demandes particulières (fétichisme, bdsm ect...).
Il a eu recours plusieurs fois à des prostituées (nous sommes dans un pays où c'est légalisé). De ce qu'il m'a dit les dernières datent d'avant notre rencontre l'été dernier. Il m'a toujours dit qu'il était allé les voir soit pour tester des choses soit car il n'avait pas eu de rapports depuis bien trop longtemps.
Je n'ai jamais été réticence envers ses révélations. Je considère que beaucoup d'hommes ont eu recours à ces pratiques mais ne l'avouent pas. J'ai même apprécié qu'il me confie cette partie de lui, pour moi il m'accorde une grande confiance.
Le problème c'est que dernièrement j'ai de gros doutes. Je me demande si il n'y retourne pas pour plusieurs raisons :
Je ne vois pas comment le confronter. Je n'ai pas de preuve tangible (screens ect ...) seulement le souvenir de tout ce que j'ai vu. J'aimerais lui poser la question ce week-end : est ce que tu continues à aller voir des escorts ?
Sans jugement. Je ne veux pas le blâmer. La relation est jeune, peut être que je ne lui donne pas satisfaction sexuellement parlant, je préfère qu'on soit honnête aujourd'hui et qu'on arrête la relation car nous ne sommes lié par rien (mariage enfants....). J'ai peur qu'il ne me dise pas la vérité et qu'il parte dans une colère noire en me disant que je ne lui fais pas confiance ect.
Comment faire si il nie ou qu'il me fait passer pour une folle ? Le croire ou partir....
Merci
submitted by rabio-sa to AskMeuf [link] [comments]
C'est quelqu'un de très porté sur le sexe. Il a toujours été transparent sur son passé : il a fait sa première fois avec une prostituée, il a beaucoup utilisé les applications de rencontres pour du sexe notamment des applications qui renvoie vers des personnes qui ont des demandes particulières (fétichisme, bdsm ect...).
Il a eu recours plusieurs fois à des prostituées (nous sommes dans un pays où c'est légalisé). De ce qu'il m'a dit les dernières datent d'avant notre rencontre l'été dernier. Il m'a toujours dit qu'il était allé les voir soit pour tester des choses soit car il n'avait pas eu de rapports depuis bien trop longtemps.
Je n'ai jamais été réticence envers ses révélations. Je considère que beaucoup d'hommes ont eu recours à ces pratiques mais ne l'avouent pas. J'ai même apprécié qu'il me confie cette partie de lui, pour moi il m'accorde une grande confiance.
Le problème c'est que dernièrement j'ai de gros doutes. Je me demande si il n'y retourne pas pour plusieurs raisons :
- il m'a posé la question sans aucun contexte si je préférais être trompée avec une fille lambda ou une escort. Je lui ai rappelé cette question un mois plus tard. Il était choqué que je m'en souviennes. Et m'a répondu non mais j'ai choisi d'être avec une personne que j'aime plutôt que d'enchaîner les escort en envoyant la tête sur le côté d'un air un peu déçu accompagné d'un sourire "tant pis faut faire un choix". J'ai un peu tiqué sur sa réaction
- samedi dernier (nous nous voyons que les weekends) j'ai remarqué des griffures entre le coup et l'épaule ainsi que sur le bras près du pli de l'aisselle. Il y avait trois griffures fraîches en diagonales. Quand je l'ai questionné déçu il a dit que c'était pas des griffures et s'est énervé. Pourquoi s'énerver dans ce cas là ? J'ai trouvé cette réaction très bizarre.... (Il n'a pas les ongles longs)
Je ne vois pas comment le confronter. Je n'ai pas de preuve tangible (screens ect ...) seulement le souvenir de tout ce que j'ai vu. J'aimerais lui poser la question ce week-end : est ce que tu continues à aller voir des escorts ?
Sans jugement. Je ne veux pas le blâmer. La relation est jeune, peut être que je ne lui donne pas satisfaction sexuellement parlant, je préfère qu'on soit honnête aujourd'hui et qu'on arrête la relation car nous ne sommes lié par rien (mariage enfants....). J'ai peur qu'il ne me dise pas la vérité et qu'il parte dans une colère noire en me disant que je ne lui fais pas confiance ect.
Comment faire si il nie ou qu'il me fait passer pour une folle ? Le croire ou partir....
Merci
2024.05.15 16:46 Free-IDK-Chicken Ashley Madison doc
UPDATE: I've finished the documentary. It's offensive. No real sympathy for the betrayed spouses whose lives were ruined. Far too much sympathy for the cheating men on the site (because the women were almost all bot accounts.) And way too much focus on the money-hungry "Christian" vlogger couple who are doing so much damage by advertising (because of course they wrote a book) that you have to forgive a cheating spouse because that's what god wants. Respectfully, fuck you.
I'm going to preface this by saying that my now ex-husband was not only a violent, abusive narcissist but also a serial cheater so when AM was hacked I immediately searched the data and was not surprised to find him listed. So, I understand that people are going to cheat regardless but jesus christ that doesn't mean you have to HELP THEM DO IT. Noel Biderman might be one of the most revolting people I've ever heard speak. EDIT: I wrote that last line before I knew he was also a serial cheater who asked escort agencies to send him barely legal teen girls and he'd "choose" one. I mean, I'm not surprised at all, but GROSS.
Here's why I'm making this post though - some of these people being interviewed are actively gaslighting us as the audience. Saying "Ashley Madison taught me that the cheater is not the only one to blame."
Yes, they are. YES, THEY ARE. I have no issue with open/poly relationships that are built on communication, honesty and consent - that's not cheating... but when your partner who has sworn to be faithful to you lies to you, goes behind your back and has an affair (emotional or physical) with another person that is your cheating partner's fault and ONLY their fault. Saying otherwise is so damaging for people who have been hurt in this way, especially if we've also been victims of narcissistic abuse.
I'm still in episode one, so maybe the doc will address this - but so far, the irresponsibility of letting that statement go unanswered needed a response.
submitted by Free-IDK-Chicken to netflix [link] [comments]
I'm going to preface this by saying that my now ex-husband was not only a violent, abusive narcissist but also a serial cheater so when AM was hacked I immediately searched the data and was not surprised to find him listed. So, I understand that people are going to cheat regardless but jesus christ that doesn't mean you have to HELP THEM DO IT. Noel Biderman might be one of the most revolting people I've ever heard speak. EDIT: I wrote that last line before I knew he was also a serial cheater who asked escort agencies to send him barely legal teen girls and he'd "choose" one. I mean, I'm not surprised at all, but GROSS.
Here's why I'm making this post though - some of these people being interviewed are actively gaslighting us as the audience. Saying "Ashley Madison taught me that the cheater is not the only one to blame."
Yes, they are. YES, THEY ARE. I have no issue with open/poly relationships that are built on communication, honesty and consent - that's not cheating... but when your partner who has sworn to be faithful to you lies to you, goes behind your back and has an affair (emotional or physical) with another person that is your cheating partner's fault and ONLY their fault. Saying otherwise is so damaging for people who have been hurt in this way, especially if we've also been victims of narcissistic abuse.
I'm still in episode one, so maybe the doc will address this - but so far, the irresponsibility of letting that statement go unanswered needed a response.
2024.05.15 16:36 maximusaemilius Empyrean Iris: 2-182 Abort? (by Charlie Star)
FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Caution swearing!
Also, god I love you Conn… please never change!
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
"Both of you get your suits back on."
"What the hell is going on!?”
Richards demanded, Adam took a deep breath,
"Captain Richards that was not an opening for a discussion, that was an order. Now put the damn suit on, or I swear I will knock you out and do it myself!”
The three of them were floating in the module staring at each other, hands resting against what must have been no more than a few millimeters of aluminum.
He stared at them, and they stared back.
Adam did not break eye contact with the two, willing them to do as they were told. Chavez was the first to move, hurrying over to her space suit and struggling to pull it on in a near panic as bright lights flashed from outside. Inside his heart was pounding but he tried to remain calm for the two standing before him.
He hurried over to help Chavez pull on her gear, finally sealing the helmet in place as Richards finally moved to do the same.
Adam helped pull the hard torso over the man's head and link it to the waist before helping him pull on his gloves and, eventually the helmet. Before he let go, he kept hold of Richards by either side of the helmet staring at him through the glass,
"I promise, if you listen to me, I will keep you safe."
He kept eye contact with the other man until Richards finally nodded, and Adam let him go to float over and put on his own suit. His hands were steady, for now, but he knew as soon as the crisis was over he'd be shaking like a leaf.
If he survived…
He gritted his teeth, cursing himself for thinking like that.
He was Admiral Vir for crying out loud. He had survived far too much to go and die now.
He returned to the helm of the command module as he looked out the thick window at the lights flashing on either side of them. Despite the war that was raging around them, everything seemed so strangely quiet. There was no sound no rumbling, not even a vibration as one of the jets flew past. Despite being at the controls of the vehicle, there was nothing he could do. They only had a certain amount of fuel to get them to the lunar surface, and if he wasted any of it at all, they would be either caught in orbit, or miss the moon entirely.
He had to keep his cool.
Another bright burst of light lit the window to his right. This one was closer this time.
His heart leaped up into his throat.
Richards and Chaves joined him buckling into their seats.
"What is going on?”
Richards demanded again, his mike distant and tinny with the sound of very old technology.
"I believe Anti-Alliance forces are attempting to assassinate me. They have been trying for months now, and I think they are being encouraged by very powerful members of the government."
They watched as another set of ships zoomed past.
He saw a flash of a silhouette, just enough to know that one of them was a Thunderhawk and the other was a silver Rundi drone.
It confirmed his worst fears. The Chairwoman had been behind this the whole time!
[…]
Red nearly collided with the rocket. The Thunderhawk had pulled up the last minute, but he had almost been too late. He jerked the stick to the side, throwing up his wing just in time to avoid hitting the rocket as it made its slow way through space. He dove down on the other side forced to break off pursuit and cut in front of another Thunderhawk coming in from above. He made to look like he was going to ram them, playing a dangerous game of chicken, which he won at the last second as the other pilot panicked and cut to the left.
There were too many of them. Only five out of the original twenty had been destroyed, and he and the rest of their pilots were busy just keeping the thunder hawks away from the rocket, much less to have any time of firing at them. He had sent one of his people down to earth and one of them off towards the moon for backup. The moon was still hours away yet, so the hope that some help would be sent from them was unlikely, and even the woman he had sent down to earth's surface was cutting it close.
He didn't have much hopes that they would be able to hold out that long.
Inside the cockpit his warning lights began to blink and blair as one of the other jets got a lock on him. He rolled right to avoid them and dove down, cutting off the lock but still being pursued by those behind him. Up ahead he saw one of the silver balls erupt into flames as it was targeted by an expert hit from one of the Thunderhawk pilots.
He rolled right.
Someone else rolled left. He cut up just in time to avoid being hit and raced forward to cut off another Thunderbird that was heading directly towards the rocket.
[…]
Eris hurried down the hallway, her knees screaming as she did her very best to sprint, but despite her human anatomy, she was a little too much like a starborn.
With a cry of frustration she reached up and tore off her hoodie, throwing it to the ground and engaging her anti-gravity belt. The ribbons on her back billowed out behind her.
Light spilled in from the windows on either side of the catwalk she was now on, filling her with a buzzing energy that she could feel radiating through the ribbons like electricity. She knew from her study of starborn that they could travel at thousands of miles an hour in the vacuum of space, especially when under the power of a star. She didn't think she needed to go THAT fast, but anything would be better than what she was doing now.
As if in response to her will, she suddenly began to glide forward, picking up speed as she swooped towards the end of the hall, wind catching her in the face and roaring along her cheeks. With her starborn skin, she barely felt a thing as she raced around the corner and out of the waiting door. Two men dressed in military ACUs dived to the side as she blew past them crying out in alarm and confusion as the "Alien" floated by.
Somewhere distantly, she could sense Conn racing in the opposite direction towards the base.
Sunny and Admiral Kelly had Admiral Massie in their custody and were dragging him out into the hallway.
She blew across the open ground her ribbons snapping and billowing behind her as she did. She didn't even have time to imagine what she looked like as she roared over the open field and towards the waiting news vans which were just beginning to pack up their things. They were close to leaving, but she set out a sharp hard telepathic pulse ordering them to stop.
Compelling them to stop.
They froze in their tracks and looked up to see her coming.
Someone scrambled to turn on their camera, not sure what was going on but sure it had to be something good.
She tried not to think about what they would see as the camera flared to life following her approach.
"Make us live."
She ordered,
The news people glanced between each other in confusion,
"But no… we aren’t-"
"What are-"
She came to a sudden jolting stop before them, her billowing black hair fanning out behind her like a curling halo.
"I said, put us on air."
This time the telepathic pulse was too strong to resist. Mostly that, paired with the fact that none of them were sure they really wanted to resist. She was way too interesting to pass up.
They hurried to do what they were doing, and Eris was given just enough time to feel nervous before the camera was turned to her.
They were live.
She read it in the minds of those behind camera who she cut off as she began to speak,
"Citizens of Earth, there has been a horrible conspiracy against you. The UN president has ordered the assassination of Admiral Adam Vir and has continually attempted to sabotage the mission. Just now General Massie was taken into custody after ordering the deployment of twenty Thunderhawk’s to harass the rocket and make its destruction look like some sort of collision with space debris."
The group gawked at her as she raised her hand with the small silver device and began playing the recording.
She knew something like this would never be admissible in court. She was pretty sure it would be considered entrapment of some kind, which is why it must be heard now, before everyone, so that the actions of the president could be judged by a jury of the world where it could not be hidden by political machinations.
"Communications have been lost with Apollo 11. And it is... Well... It is likely that he is already dead..."
Her voice broke,
"No matter what happens, I need you, and this nation to understand what is happening before it gets swept under the rug. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and experienced their meeting in the thoughts of a man who is both xenophobic and hateful to his own humankind."
She kept talking trying to give them all the information she could, spilling thoughts she had heard in the head of the UN president and General Massie alike. Every meeting, every liaison, every name until her voice was beginning to crack.
[…]
The UN president was just standing to enter her vehicle when a slow muttering began in the crowd behind her. She turned as the ground before her went silent.
She watched as a wave ran through the people. A wave of nudging and whispering and showing off news feeds they had pulled up on their wrist implants. It wasn't long before the entire crowd was either staring down at their arms or clustered around someone else for viewing.
"What is going on?”
She wondered, turning to one of her men who was staring down at her own wrist.
"Madame president?"
He said with a look of confusion.
She could hear it now.
"Her and General Massie have ordered members of the UNSC to adjust funds in order to hide the twenty Thunderhawk’s they were squirting away for just such an event."
She hurried forward, grabbing the secret serviceman by the arm, staring at it as she watched the streaming newsfeed and the freaky white alien with the large dark eyes and flowing black hair.
"She is afraid of aliens, she wishes to isolate and eventually use humanity's superior forces to overtake trade in the galaxy, forceful if need be."
The muttering behind her had turned into an angry grumbling, and she turned to see the eyes of hundreds that turned towards her.
"Get me out of here."
She hissed. the Secret Serviceman took a step back with a look of confusion and indecision on his face.
"It's your job."
She snarled, but he just stared at her.
She hurriedly ran over to her car as the crowd began to filter in around them pressing close. A few of the secret service men pulled guns, but a large majority of them were frozen with indecision and were taken over by the crowd. She scrambled into the back seat of her vehicle and slammed the door shut screaming at the driver to get moving.
The crowd was surrounding them now, pounding at the glass.
She could hear their angry voices raised for her to be heard behind bullet proof glass.
Outside, she watched a lone figure step onto the platform where the lectern was and stare at her with its beady black eyes. The Chairwoman of the GA stood over the crowd like it's filthy alien lord.
And even though Rundi could not smile, she could swear it was smiling.
[…]
Baby K hit a rough patch of turbulence coming down from the atmosphere. She struggled with the controls as she was thrown left and right inside the cockpit of her rickety shuttle.
Donovan Red had ordered her down here to grab the UNSC, but she was so scared and full of adrenaline that she had dropped it at too steep an angle. The ride was much bumpier than it was supposed to be, and her teeth were rattling inside her head.
Just then two Jets suddenly cut in behind her out of nowhere, and she heard her console beep and warn her about a lock on, making it clear that she was just one click of a trigger away from imminent doom.
"This is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have crossed into restricted UNSC airspace, identify yourself or be destroyed! You have ten seconds to comply, over."
She scrambled for her communications, but her fingers felt as stiff as wood as she scrambled for the button.
"I repeat, this is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have entered restricted UNSC airspace, you are ordered to identify yourself or be destroyed. Five seconds remaining. Over."
She slammed her first into the comms button nearly panicking,
"UNSC!"
Her voice was rattling,
"This is B-baby K, and I... The Apollo 11 is under attack!"
She was breathless as she forced the words out.
There was silence over the coms,
"Say again? Uhm I mean please repeat over.”
"Apollo 11 is under attack!"
”…”
”…”
More silence,
”Roger that. Please stand by. Over."
The lock lifted and the two jets pulled up to the side of her, staying close now.
She recognized those jets as two F-90 Darkfires.
They stayed by her side for a moment, and as close as they were she could see one of the pilots fidgeting with the coms, talking and wildly gesticulating, while his copilot was beginning to wildly flip switches.
Meanwhile, a second voice came in over the coms.
"On your left! Eagle Dispatch Two here, unidentified vessel, please land on UNSC base airstrip one. Just contact the control tower once you get close for guidance and instruction."
Baby K looked over into the other jet, just to see the pilot adjusting his helmet and clicking an oxygen tube to the front of his helmet. His co-pilot had already put the additional oxygen mask on and was also flipping switches.
”Uhm aren’t you going to escort me?”
Baby K managed to blurt out in confusion,
”Godspeed Baby K, Eagle Dispatch Two over and out.”
Both men in the jet to her left had apparently finished their preparations and gave her a quick salute.
Then suddenly, both jets adjusted their angle and cut engines, before switching to their big fusion engines, rocketing them up and out of sight within seconds.
[…]
So far it had been a relatively quiet day at the Ellington Field Joint Reserve Base. Most of the air traffic had been canceled due to the launch of the Apollo mission, so there was not much to do, leaving much of the Airport less staffed than normal.
In the Air Traffic Control tower of the base, only two men were working. Though “working” was stretching it, considering Senior Controller M. Fredrick was currently in the middle of his book (though he was at least in front of his station) and his comrade Senior ATC Instructor A. Millard was currently sitting in a corner, watching a movie on his implant.
”So what are you watching? One of those old Star Wars movies?”
”You bet! Those are the best! By the way any info on that “lost civilian” who got into our airspace?”
”No not yet, though I sent Eagle Dispatch and told them to be extra unfriendly, that will scare these civilians off for sure!”
”Pffft, why couldn’t they watch the start like any other person? There is always some dumb rich kid doing dumb stuff with daddies private shuttle… I don’t understand why we always let them off with a warning…”
The console started beeping,
”Oh look that’s them now!”
”Put ‘em on speakers!”
”Will do!”
…
”ATC this is Eagle, come the FUCK in!”
Fredrick rolled his eyes,
”Ahem… This is Elling Field ATC, calling Eagle Dispatch One. We hear you, over.”
”ATC what the FUCK took you so long!?”
”Ellington Field ATC, to Eagle Dispatch one, firstly: language, secondly: please follow standard radio rules, over.”
”THE APOLLO IS UNDER ATACK BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS!”
”Ellingt-WHAAAAT!? Repeat please! Over!”
”THE APOLLO IS BEEING ATACKED BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS! REQUETING IMMEDIATE ASSIST!”
Fredrick just stared at Millard dumbfounded. As the senior officer Millard was quick to collect himself and jumped up and towards his console.
”What are you waiting for Fredrick! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE GARRISON!”
Fredrick ignored all protocol and just flipped the switch to connect his comms to every recipient available.
”ATC to all personnel and everyone who can hear me, the Apollo is under attack, I repeat, the apollo is under attack. I want all available planes that can reach the outer atmosphere ready ASAP! Get the darkfires on the runway I want them in the air yesterday!”
[…]
Conn raced towards the airstrip, feeling the wind in the ribbons at his back. He couldn't go nearly as fast as he wanted to with air resistance.
Why the hell did Adam always have to get into so much trouble, why did he always have to be the center of attention!?
Everyone either hated him or loved him, but the problem was people who hated him also wanted to kill him.
Why did he have to be so controversial!?
Why did he have to be hated for something that was such a big deal. Why couldn't he be hated for having controversial political opinions. Conn paused…
On second thought, controversial political opinions were kind of what had gotten them here in the first place, so he guessed that was kind of a useless comparison. How about being the kind of guy who liked to talk too much about fishing. That was a great way to make people hate you for being boring, but it didn't usually mean that people wanted to kill you.
Maybe they could get the man a hobby doing something that wasn't so controversial…
Like…
Kicking small Animals or…
Cannibalism.
He came roaring to the stop at the edge of the airfield just in time to watch an entire platoon of pilots racing towards jets. He could hear their minds and looked up to see a rather dinky shuttle descending from the sky. He floated forward towards one of the jets as two pilots leaped inside.
He was going to need a ride.
The pilots turned to look at him, but Conn just shook his head.
The pilots decided to ignore him in the confusion and Conn grabbed on tight.
Starborn, he had come to learn, were a very interesting species in comparison to others. Vertically, as in from the top down he was very fragile and likely to break his neck or collapse his spine if there was any kind of pressure, but with horizontal forces, he was practically indestructible. Below him the ship roared to life and soon they were gathering speed along the runway.
His grip was tight, and he used the extra energy from his ribbons to speed himself up along with the jet to reduce the pull on his arms.
His grip wasn't that strong.
They went vertical almost immediately, and he made sure to orient his body in the correct direction as they went hurtling into the sky.
[…]
Red's right wing had been hit. If there had been atmosphere around him he would have been a goner, but there was no air resistance here, so once he regained control of his roll, he pulled back into position and fired one last shot as the opportunity arose. The sixth Thunderhawk was destroyed in an eruption of debris, which he dodged only with difficulty, limping without the aid of the maneuvering jet on the end of his one wing. Things were only speeding up now, the Rundi were almost gone and the pressure was being laid thick on his people. They were hard to hit but the pursuit made it almost impossible for them to do any real maneuvering of their own. He was almost hit again as another Thunderhawk sped underneath him. They rolled this way and that rocking from one side to the other. Flying through debris and over strips of silver metal.
Below them the earth hung as a glowing orb.
Red cut in a wide circle coming in with the sun at his back, using it to blind one of the enemy Thunderhawk’s as he came in. He watched the group of them form up suddenly as a ring around the slow moving rocket, intending quite certainly to rush it all at once. He screamed into the comm trying to order his men around, but it was going to be too late, he could already see it coming.
The jets rushed forward, and he did too, screaming inside his helmet as they went to broadside Apollo 11.
And then with all the silence of space, sixteen F-90 Dark Fires came spitting overhead all at once, raining down a line of ordinance that cut through the group of unsuspecting Thunderhawk’s.
Space around them was filled with a myriad of silent explosions as each and every one of them was ripped to shreds.
All except one…
He saw it at the last moment.
It had been hit in the tail and had gone wildly off course.
It turned sideways, but had just enough force... For its wing to tear straight through the aluminum siding of the rocket.
FUCK!
[…]
Chavez and Richards had been ordered to strap into their seats.
Adam had taken it upon himself to lock down the rest of the main cabin. Outside the flashing lights were like a fireworks display without sound. He grabbed onto one of the rails, forcing equipment back into place, so that if anything happened it wouldn't fly out.
His legs were kicked up behind him as he floated forward reaching for some of the controls as a sudden bright wash of light filtered in through the windows. He heard a scream over his com, and then the air around him was rent with a horrific tearing noise, which suddenly went silent. There was a rush, and he jerked forward as he was sucked back... And out of the ship entirely.
His hands and legs kicked and flailed as he tried to right himself, hearing his own breathing as the only sound as he watched the rocket begin to spin, debris erupting around him as air, and whatever wasn't strapped down was sucked through the small opening.
The rocket was spinning wildly but still on course, while he was spinning wildly in a silent abyss.
Grunting against the force of his spin, he reached down for the controls to the CO2 canister built into the pack of his spacesuit.
He groaned, not sure which way was up or down or back. He tried to right himself against the spin by firing in the opposite direction to slow his spin.
He could see the rocket now spinning in the opposite direction with the sudden loss of oxygen. He hoped the other astronauts were ok. He saw the silhouette of a jet fly past in the distance making its way towards the spinning rocket.
At least there was someone here to help.
Maybe the others would survive-
And then he just… stopped, coming to a confusing halt in the middle of space.
That shouldn't have been right!
He should have kept going forever!
He tried turning his head, but he felt like the pillsbury doughboy in this two thousand year old suit.
What was happening?
"Did you miss me Baby?”
Well shit, now he sort of wished he could keep spinning.
There was a tugging on the outside of his suit, and Conn floated into view in front of his helmet.
"Hey sweetheart."
"You are probably the last person I wanted to see."
He said, though he didn't entirely mean it, and unfortunately Conn knew that too, the mindreading asshole that he was.
”I could hardly let the father of my child go spinning off into space without taking accountability for his family. After al child support is paying way more than widows pension."
"Shove it up your ass Conn."
"No really, not even the vacuum of space is going to save you from your responsibilities. Now, about custody, I was thinking you could have every other weekend and a couple of major holidays…”
He gave a rueful sort of smile as Conn grabbed him by the life support pack and started floating them towards the rocket.
The F-90s had somehow managed to slow the spin of the rocket, and pull it back on course with grappling magnets.
All around them space was filled with debris. No more working Thunderhawk’s were present and those that were were quickly being grappled. One sleek racing jet slowly cruised past them. One of its wings was damaged, but whoever was inside waved with one hand as he rolled past.
Adam lifted a hand as Conn brought him the last few hundred feet to the torn opening in the side of the ship, allowing him to step through.
Conn patted him on the side of the helmet,
"Make sure to be home by dinnertime sweetie."
Before blowing him a kiss and vanishing back out the hole.
Adam floated there, a bit nonplussed for a moment before turning back to the front of the ship where Chaves and Richards were still strapped into their seats staring at him and after Conn. He floated over to strap himself in.
"Admiral! You're ok!”
"Yes, it seems that I am, thanks to a... Friend of mine."
Just then Conn appeared again just before their right side window, and like the classy gentlemen that he was began rubbing his butt up against the glass.
He sighed,
"Friend is kind of stretching it."
"Apollo 11 this is Houston, do you copy!"
The man on the other end of the line sounded close to tears, and Adam hurried to respond,
"Houston this is Apollo 11."
On the other side he thought he heard the sound of voices cheering in relief.
"What is your status, over?”
"We are a bit beat up Houston, we have a tear in our hull, but our suits are ok, and we have help."
"Prepare to abort mission."
Adam frowned,
"Now wait a second there Houston! I didn't get sucked out the side of my own rocket to just quit now. Tell the boys to come up here and patch us up and we can finish the mission. All systems are still functioning, and we are back on course."
He glanced over at the others,
”That is, if the crew wants to continue."
There was a pause and then Chavez timidly piped in,
"I'd be ok with that."
Richards sighed,
"Roger Houston, patch us up."
Granted it may have been cheating. Apollo 11 hadn't had support with special tools that could just patch up a spaceship within ten minutes, but then again the original Apollo 11 hadn't been in the middle of a firefight while on their journey to the moon.
So it was with some trepidation that Houston allowed it, and before long they had air back inside the cabin back up to pressure, but they also had a sixteen-man rotating escort for the rest of the way.
The group of them were even shocked to see Rundi drones join the formation, only to learn that it had been the UN president who had allegedly called the hit on him. It was hard to believe, but they were only getting snippets here and then from over radio and from Conn, who floated around occasionally to rub another part of his anatomy against the window and give them teasing updates.
The moon was growing slowly in their vision.
"Hehe, I can see my house from here."
Adam remarked as they prepared to detach the lunar module from the rest of the ship.
They landed without incident, observed by mobile camera crews and news reporters as he made his own footprint on the never changing dust of the moon's surface. He gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was fine and hesitated only once before setting up the UN flag in the dirt. He refused to let his enthusiasm be dampened by the day's events and hopped around dancing and leaping for joy as another one of his childhood dreams was fulfilled.
…
That was before he plowed face first into the moon's surface and required help from Richards to stand back up again.
They left soon after taking another three days of escort back to earth before strapping themselves in for final entry.
Conn left them just as they were entering orbit with a very big and very drawn out middle finger for all three of them.
"Your friend is super delightful isn't he?”
"You don’t know the half of it, try having a child with him."
Adam muttered, refusing to elaborate even as they stared at him in confusion.
They fell from the sky and landed somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, picked up by the waiting navy vessel who was within nine miles of their landing site. They were fished from the water and returned safe and sound to the ship to cheers and cameras. Adam's legs felt a little like jelly after days of not using them, and he was finally able to relax lying on the deck of the ship under the sun as people ran around them on either side.
His hands shook slowly building up after the stress of the last week. He took long deep breaths and closed his eyes.
The next few days were going to be a real shit show.
And somehow it wasn’t because he was now known as the man who faceplanted on not one, but TWO interstellar bodies…
The media was way to busy with the other story, a massive net of deceit and corruption that would now be uncovered.
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Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.
submitted by maximusaemilius to HFY [link] [comments]
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Caution swearing!
Also, god I love you Conn… please never change!
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
"What the hell is going on!?”
Richards demanded, Adam took a deep breath,
"Captain Richards that was not an opening for a discussion, that was an order. Now put the damn suit on, or I swear I will knock you out and do it myself!”
The three of them were floating in the module staring at each other, hands resting against what must have been no more than a few millimeters of aluminum.
He stared at them, and they stared back.
Adam did not break eye contact with the two, willing them to do as they were told. Chavez was the first to move, hurrying over to her space suit and struggling to pull it on in a near panic as bright lights flashed from outside. Inside his heart was pounding but he tried to remain calm for the two standing before him.
He hurried over to help Chavez pull on her gear, finally sealing the helmet in place as Richards finally moved to do the same.
Adam helped pull the hard torso over the man's head and link it to the waist before helping him pull on his gloves and, eventually the helmet. Before he let go, he kept hold of Richards by either side of the helmet staring at him through the glass,
"I promise, if you listen to me, I will keep you safe."
He kept eye contact with the other man until Richards finally nodded, and Adam let him go to float over and put on his own suit. His hands were steady, for now, but he knew as soon as the crisis was over he'd be shaking like a leaf.
If he survived…
He gritted his teeth, cursing himself for thinking like that.
He was Admiral Vir for crying out loud. He had survived far too much to go and die now.
He returned to the helm of the command module as he looked out the thick window at the lights flashing on either side of them. Despite the war that was raging around them, everything seemed so strangely quiet. There was no sound no rumbling, not even a vibration as one of the jets flew past. Despite being at the controls of the vehicle, there was nothing he could do. They only had a certain amount of fuel to get them to the lunar surface, and if he wasted any of it at all, they would be either caught in orbit, or miss the moon entirely.
He had to keep his cool.
Another bright burst of light lit the window to his right. This one was closer this time.
His heart leaped up into his throat.
Richards and Chaves joined him buckling into their seats.
"What is going on?”
Richards demanded again, his mike distant and tinny with the sound of very old technology.
"I believe Anti-Alliance forces are attempting to assassinate me. They have been trying for months now, and I think they are being encouraged by very powerful members of the government."
They watched as another set of ships zoomed past.
He saw a flash of a silhouette, just enough to know that one of them was a Thunderhawk and the other was a silver Rundi drone.
It confirmed his worst fears. The Chairwoman had been behind this the whole time!
Red nearly collided with the rocket. The Thunderhawk had pulled up the last minute, but he had almost been too late. He jerked the stick to the side, throwing up his wing just in time to avoid hitting the rocket as it made its slow way through space. He dove down on the other side forced to break off pursuit and cut in front of another Thunderhawk coming in from above. He made to look like he was going to ram them, playing a dangerous game of chicken, which he won at the last second as the other pilot panicked and cut to the left.
There were too many of them. Only five out of the original twenty had been destroyed, and he and the rest of their pilots were busy just keeping the thunder hawks away from the rocket, much less to have any time of firing at them. He had sent one of his people down to earth and one of them off towards the moon for backup. The moon was still hours away yet, so the hope that some help would be sent from them was unlikely, and even the woman he had sent down to earth's surface was cutting it close.
He didn't have much hopes that they would be able to hold out that long.
Inside the cockpit his warning lights began to blink and blair as one of the other jets got a lock on him. He rolled right to avoid them and dove down, cutting off the lock but still being pursued by those behind him. Up ahead he saw one of the silver balls erupt into flames as it was targeted by an expert hit from one of the Thunderhawk pilots.
He rolled right.
Someone else rolled left. He cut up just in time to avoid being hit and raced forward to cut off another Thunderbird that was heading directly towards the rocket.
Eris hurried down the hallway, her knees screaming as she did her very best to sprint, but despite her human anatomy, she was a little too much like a starborn.
With a cry of frustration she reached up and tore off her hoodie, throwing it to the ground and engaging her anti-gravity belt. The ribbons on her back billowed out behind her.
Light spilled in from the windows on either side of the catwalk she was now on, filling her with a buzzing energy that she could feel radiating through the ribbons like electricity. She knew from her study of starborn that they could travel at thousands of miles an hour in the vacuum of space, especially when under the power of a star. She didn't think she needed to go THAT fast, but anything would be better than what she was doing now.
As if in response to her will, she suddenly began to glide forward, picking up speed as she swooped towards the end of the hall, wind catching her in the face and roaring along her cheeks. With her starborn skin, she barely felt a thing as she raced around the corner and out of the waiting door. Two men dressed in military ACUs dived to the side as she blew past them crying out in alarm and confusion as the "Alien" floated by.
Somewhere distantly, she could sense Conn racing in the opposite direction towards the base.
Sunny and Admiral Kelly had Admiral Massie in their custody and were dragging him out into the hallway.
She blew across the open ground her ribbons snapping and billowing behind her as she did. She didn't even have time to imagine what she looked like as she roared over the open field and towards the waiting news vans which were just beginning to pack up their things. They were close to leaving, but she set out a sharp hard telepathic pulse ordering them to stop.
Compelling them to stop.
They froze in their tracks and looked up to see her coming.
Someone scrambled to turn on their camera, not sure what was going on but sure it had to be something good.
She tried not to think about what they would see as the camera flared to life following her approach.
"Make us live."
She ordered,
The news people glanced between each other in confusion,
"But no… we aren’t-"
"What are-"
She came to a sudden jolting stop before them, her billowing black hair fanning out behind her like a curling halo.
"I said, put us on air."
This time the telepathic pulse was too strong to resist. Mostly that, paired with the fact that none of them were sure they really wanted to resist. She was way too interesting to pass up.
They hurried to do what they were doing, and Eris was given just enough time to feel nervous before the camera was turned to her.
They were live.
She read it in the minds of those behind camera who she cut off as she began to speak,
"Citizens of Earth, there has been a horrible conspiracy against you. The UN president has ordered the assassination of Admiral Adam Vir and has continually attempted to sabotage the mission. Just now General Massie was taken into custody after ordering the deployment of twenty Thunderhawk’s to harass the rocket and make its destruction look like some sort of collision with space debris."
The group gawked at her as she raised her hand with the small silver device and began playing the recording.
She knew something like this would never be admissible in court. She was pretty sure it would be considered entrapment of some kind, which is why it must be heard now, before everyone, so that the actions of the president could be judged by a jury of the world where it could not be hidden by political machinations.
"Communications have been lost with Apollo 11. And it is... Well... It is likely that he is already dead..."
Her voice broke,
"No matter what happens, I need you, and this nation to understand what is happening before it gets swept under the rug. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and experienced their meeting in the thoughts of a man who is both xenophobic and hateful to his own humankind."
She kept talking trying to give them all the information she could, spilling thoughts she had heard in the head of the UN president and General Massie alike. Every meeting, every liaison, every name until her voice was beginning to crack.
The UN president was just standing to enter her vehicle when a slow muttering began in the crowd behind her. She turned as the ground before her went silent.
She watched as a wave ran through the people. A wave of nudging and whispering and showing off news feeds they had pulled up on their wrist implants. It wasn't long before the entire crowd was either staring down at their arms or clustered around someone else for viewing.
"What is going on?”
She wondered, turning to one of her men who was staring down at her own wrist.
"Madame president?"
He said with a look of confusion.
She could hear it now.
"Her and General Massie have ordered members of the UNSC to adjust funds in order to hide the twenty Thunderhawk’s they were squirting away for just such an event."
She hurried forward, grabbing the secret serviceman by the arm, staring at it as she watched the streaming newsfeed and the freaky white alien with the large dark eyes and flowing black hair.
"She is afraid of aliens, she wishes to isolate and eventually use humanity's superior forces to overtake trade in the galaxy, forceful if need be."
The muttering behind her had turned into an angry grumbling, and she turned to see the eyes of hundreds that turned towards her.
"Get me out of here."
She hissed. the Secret Serviceman took a step back with a look of confusion and indecision on his face.
"It's your job."
She snarled, but he just stared at her.
She hurriedly ran over to her car as the crowd began to filter in around them pressing close. A few of the secret service men pulled guns, but a large majority of them were frozen with indecision and were taken over by the crowd. She scrambled into the back seat of her vehicle and slammed the door shut screaming at the driver to get moving.
The crowd was surrounding them now, pounding at the glass.
She could hear their angry voices raised for her to be heard behind bullet proof glass.
Outside, she watched a lone figure step onto the platform where the lectern was and stare at her with its beady black eyes. The Chairwoman of the GA stood over the crowd like it's filthy alien lord.
And even though Rundi could not smile, she could swear it was smiling.
Baby K hit a rough patch of turbulence coming down from the atmosphere. She struggled with the controls as she was thrown left and right inside the cockpit of her rickety shuttle.
Donovan Red had ordered her down here to grab the UNSC, but she was so scared and full of adrenaline that she had dropped it at too steep an angle. The ride was much bumpier than it was supposed to be, and her teeth were rattling inside her head.
Just then two Jets suddenly cut in behind her out of nowhere, and she heard her console beep and warn her about a lock on, making it clear that she was just one click of a trigger away from imminent doom.
"This is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have crossed into restricted UNSC airspace, identify yourself or be destroyed! You have ten seconds to comply, over."
She scrambled for her communications, but her fingers felt as stiff as wood as she scrambled for the button.
"I repeat, this is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have entered restricted UNSC airspace, you are ordered to identify yourself or be destroyed. Five seconds remaining. Over."
She slammed her first into the comms button nearly panicking,
"UNSC!"
Her voice was rattling,
"This is B-baby K, and I... The Apollo 11 is under attack!"
She was breathless as she forced the words out.
There was silence over the coms,
"Say again? Uhm I mean please repeat over.”
"Apollo 11 is under attack!"
”…”
”…”
More silence,
”Roger that. Please stand by. Over."
The lock lifted and the two jets pulled up to the side of her, staying close now.
She recognized those jets as two F-90 Darkfires.
They stayed by her side for a moment, and as close as they were she could see one of the pilots fidgeting with the coms, talking and wildly gesticulating, while his copilot was beginning to wildly flip switches.
Meanwhile, a second voice came in over the coms.
"On your left! Eagle Dispatch Two here, unidentified vessel, please land on UNSC base airstrip one. Just contact the control tower once you get close for guidance and instruction."
Baby K looked over into the other jet, just to see the pilot adjusting his helmet and clicking an oxygen tube to the front of his helmet. His co-pilot had already put the additional oxygen mask on and was also flipping switches.
”Uhm aren’t you going to escort me?”
Baby K managed to blurt out in confusion,
”Godspeed Baby K, Eagle Dispatch Two over and out.”
Both men in the jet to her left had apparently finished their preparations and gave her a quick salute.
Then suddenly, both jets adjusted their angle and cut engines, before switching to their big fusion engines, rocketing them up and out of sight within seconds.
So far it had been a relatively quiet day at the Ellington Field Joint Reserve Base. Most of the air traffic had been canceled due to the launch of the Apollo mission, so there was not much to do, leaving much of the Airport less staffed than normal.
In the Air Traffic Control tower of the base, only two men were working. Though “working” was stretching it, considering Senior Controller M. Fredrick was currently in the middle of his book (though he was at least in front of his station) and his comrade Senior ATC Instructor A. Millard was currently sitting in a corner, watching a movie on his implant.
”So what are you watching? One of those old Star Wars movies?”
”You bet! Those are the best! By the way any info on that “lost civilian” who got into our airspace?”
”No not yet, though I sent Eagle Dispatch and told them to be extra unfriendly, that will scare these civilians off for sure!”
”Pffft, why couldn’t they watch the start like any other person? There is always some dumb rich kid doing dumb stuff with daddies private shuttle… I don’t understand why we always let them off with a warning…”
The console started beeping,
”Oh look that’s them now!”
”Put ‘em on speakers!”
”Will do!”
…
”ATC this is Eagle, come the FUCK in!”
Fredrick rolled his eyes,
”Ahem… This is Elling Field ATC, calling Eagle Dispatch One. We hear you, over.”
”ATC what the FUCK took you so long!?”
”Ellington Field ATC, to Eagle Dispatch one, firstly: language, secondly: please follow standard radio rules, over.”
”THE APOLLO IS UNDER ATACK BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS!”
”Ellingt-WHAAAAT!? Repeat please! Over!”
”THE APOLLO IS BEEING ATACKED BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS! REQUETING IMMEDIATE ASSIST!”
Fredrick just stared at Millard dumbfounded. As the senior officer Millard was quick to collect himself and jumped up and towards his console.
”What are you waiting for Fredrick! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE GARRISON!”
Fredrick ignored all protocol and just flipped the switch to connect his comms to every recipient available.
”ATC to all personnel and everyone who can hear me, the Apollo is under attack, I repeat, the apollo is under attack. I want all available planes that can reach the outer atmosphere ready ASAP! Get the darkfires on the runway I want them in the air yesterday!”
Conn raced towards the airstrip, feeling the wind in the ribbons at his back. He couldn't go nearly as fast as he wanted to with air resistance.
Why the hell did Adam always have to get into so much trouble, why did he always have to be the center of attention!?
Everyone either hated him or loved him, but the problem was people who hated him also wanted to kill him.
Why did he have to be so controversial!?
Why did he have to be hated for something that was such a big deal. Why couldn't he be hated for having controversial political opinions. Conn paused…
On second thought, controversial political opinions were kind of what had gotten them here in the first place, so he guessed that was kind of a useless comparison. How about being the kind of guy who liked to talk too much about fishing. That was a great way to make people hate you for being boring, but it didn't usually mean that people wanted to kill you.
Maybe they could get the man a hobby doing something that wasn't so controversial…
Like…
Kicking small Animals or…
Cannibalism.
He came roaring to the stop at the edge of the airfield just in time to watch an entire platoon of pilots racing towards jets. He could hear their minds and looked up to see a rather dinky shuttle descending from the sky. He floated forward towards one of the jets as two pilots leaped inside.
He was going to need a ride.
The pilots turned to look at him, but Conn just shook his head.
The pilots decided to ignore him in the confusion and Conn grabbed on tight.
Starborn, he had come to learn, were a very interesting species in comparison to others. Vertically, as in from the top down he was very fragile and likely to break his neck or collapse his spine if there was any kind of pressure, but with horizontal forces, he was practically indestructible. Below him the ship roared to life and soon they were gathering speed along the runway.
His grip was tight, and he used the extra energy from his ribbons to speed himself up along with the jet to reduce the pull on his arms.
His grip wasn't that strong.
They went vertical almost immediately, and he made sure to orient his body in the correct direction as they went hurtling into the sky.
Red's right wing had been hit. If there had been atmosphere around him he would have been a goner, but there was no air resistance here, so once he regained control of his roll, he pulled back into position and fired one last shot as the opportunity arose. The sixth Thunderhawk was destroyed in an eruption of debris, which he dodged only with difficulty, limping without the aid of the maneuvering jet on the end of his one wing. Things were only speeding up now, the Rundi were almost gone and the pressure was being laid thick on his people. They were hard to hit but the pursuit made it almost impossible for them to do any real maneuvering of their own. He was almost hit again as another Thunderhawk sped underneath him. They rolled this way and that rocking from one side to the other. Flying through debris and over strips of silver metal.
Below them the earth hung as a glowing orb.
Red cut in a wide circle coming in with the sun at his back, using it to blind one of the enemy Thunderhawk’s as he came in. He watched the group of them form up suddenly as a ring around the slow moving rocket, intending quite certainly to rush it all at once. He screamed into the comm trying to order his men around, but it was going to be too late, he could already see it coming.
The jets rushed forward, and he did too, screaming inside his helmet as they went to broadside Apollo 11.
And then with all the silence of space, sixteen F-90 Dark Fires came spitting overhead all at once, raining down a line of ordinance that cut through the group of unsuspecting Thunderhawk’s.
Space around them was filled with a myriad of silent explosions as each and every one of them was ripped to shreds.
All except one…
He saw it at the last moment.
It had been hit in the tail and had gone wildly off course.
It turned sideways, but had just enough force... For its wing to tear straight through the aluminum siding of the rocket.
FUCK!
Chavez and Richards had been ordered to strap into their seats.
Adam had taken it upon himself to lock down the rest of the main cabin. Outside the flashing lights were like a fireworks display without sound. He grabbed onto one of the rails, forcing equipment back into place, so that if anything happened it wouldn't fly out.
His legs were kicked up behind him as he floated forward reaching for some of the controls as a sudden bright wash of light filtered in through the windows. He heard a scream over his com, and then the air around him was rent with a horrific tearing noise, which suddenly went silent. There was a rush, and he jerked forward as he was sucked back... And out of the ship entirely.
His hands and legs kicked and flailed as he tried to right himself, hearing his own breathing as the only sound as he watched the rocket begin to spin, debris erupting around him as air, and whatever wasn't strapped down was sucked through the small opening.
The rocket was spinning wildly but still on course, while he was spinning wildly in a silent abyss.
Grunting against the force of his spin, he reached down for the controls to the CO2 canister built into the pack of his spacesuit.
He groaned, not sure which way was up or down or back. He tried to right himself against the spin by firing in the opposite direction to slow his spin.
He could see the rocket now spinning in the opposite direction with the sudden loss of oxygen. He hoped the other astronauts were ok. He saw the silhouette of a jet fly past in the distance making its way towards the spinning rocket.
At least there was someone here to help.
Maybe the others would survive-
And then he just… stopped, coming to a confusing halt in the middle of space.
That shouldn't have been right!
He should have kept going forever!
He tried turning his head, but he felt like the pillsbury doughboy in this two thousand year old suit.
What was happening?
Well shit, now he sort of wished he could keep spinning.
There was a tugging on the outside of his suit, and Conn floated into view in front of his helmet.
"You are probably the last person I wanted to see."
He said, though he didn't entirely mean it, and unfortunately Conn knew that too, the mindreading asshole that he was.
"Shove it up your ass Conn."
He gave a rueful sort of smile as Conn grabbed him by the life support pack and started floating them towards the rocket.
The F-90s had somehow managed to slow the spin of the rocket, and pull it back on course with grappling magnets.
All around them space was filled with debris. No more working Thunderhawk’s were present and those that were were quickly being grappled. One sleek racing jet slowly cruised past them. One of its wings was damaged, but whoever was inside waved with one hand as he rolled past.
Adam lifted a hand as Conn brought him the last few hundred feet to the torn opening in the side of the ship, allowing him to step through.
Conn patted him on the side of the helmet,
Before blowing him a kiss and vanishing back out the hole.
Adam floated there, a bit nonplussed for a moment before turning back to the front of the ship where Chaves and Richards were still strapped into their seats staring at him and after Conn. He floated over to strap himself in.
"Admiral! You're ok!”
"Yes, it seems that I am, thanks to a... Friend of mine."
Just then Conn appeared again just before their right side window, and like the classy gentlemen that he was began rubbing his butt up against the glass.
He sighed,
"Friend is kind of stretching it."
"Apollo 11 this is Houston, do you copy!"
The man on the other end of the line sounded close to tears, and Adam hurried to respond,
"Houston this is Apollo 11."
On the other side he thought he heard the sound of voices cheering in relief.
"What is your status, over?”
"We are a bit beat up Houston, we have a tear in our hull, but our suits are ok, and we have help."
"Prepare to abort mission."
Adam frowned,
"Now wait a second there Houston! I didn't get sucked out the side of my own rocket to just quit now. Tell the boys to come up here and patch us up and we can finish the mission. All systems are still functioning, and we are back on course."
He glanced over at the others,
”That is, if the crew wants to continue."
There was a pause and then Chavez timidly piped in,
"I'd be ok with that."
Richards sighed,
"Roger Houston, patch us up."
Granted it may have been cheating. Apollo 11 hadn't had support with special tools that could just patch up a spaceship within ten minutes, but then again the original Apollo 11 hadn't been in the middle of a firefight while on their journey to the moon.
So it was with some trepidation that Houston allowed it, and before long they had air back inside the cabin back up to pressure, but they also had a sixteen-man rotating escort for the rest of the way.
The group of them were even shocked to see Rundi drones join the formation, only to learn that it had been the UN president who had allegedly called the hit on him. It was hard to believe, but they were only getting snippets here and then from over radio and from Conn, who floated around occasionally to rub another part of his anatomy against the window and give them teasing updates.
The moon was growing slowly in their vision.
"Hehe, I can see my house from here."
Adam remarked as they prepared to detach the lunar module from the rest of the ship.
They landed without incident, observed by mobile camera crews and news reporters as he made his own footprint on the never changing dust of the moon's surface. He gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was fine and hesitated only once before setting up the UN flag in the dirt. He refused to let his enthusiasm be dampened by the day's events and hopped around dancing and leaping for joy as another one of his childhood dreams was fulfilled.
…
That was before he plowed face first into the moon's surface and required help from Richards to stand back up again.
They left soon after taking another three days of escort back to earth before strapping themselves in for final entry.
Conn left them just as they were entering orbit with a very big and very drawn out middle finger for all three of them.
"Your friend is super delightful isn't he?”
"You don’t know the half of it, try having a child with him."
Adam muttered, refusing to elaborate even as they stared at him in confusion.
They fell from the sky and landed somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, picked up by the waiting navy vessel who was within nine miles of their landing site. They were fished from the water and returned safe and sound to the ship to cheers and cameras. Adam's legs felt a little like jelly after days of not using them, and he was finally able to relax lying on the deck of the ship under the sun as people ran around them on either side.
His hands shook slowly building up after the stress of the last week. He took long deep breaths and closed his eyes.
The next few days were going to be a real shit show.
And somehow it wasn’t because he was now known as the man who faceplanted on not one, but TWO interstellar bodies…
The media was way to busy with the other story, a massive net of deceit and corruption that would now be uncovered.
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.